The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,1
leaving he turned and said, “Go, on. Get out of here. I’m sure you’re anxious to start your weekend, and perhaps share the news with your family.”
“Thanks, Ken. And I’ll think about your offer.” She hadn’t really set her sights on general counsel, but maybe this was exactly what she needed, a new challenge, a new focus.
Before leaving the office, she called her sister.
“Brighton Beach Antiques, Rebecca Kent.”
“Hi, Becca. I’m on my way.”
“You’re leaving early. What gives?”
“I’ve wrapped everything up for the week, and I could use a walk on the beach. Is it raining there?”
“No. Clear, sunny, and breezy.”
It wasn’t unusual for downtown Jacksonville to be covered under a blanket of storm clouds, while the beach stayed clear and sunny. The strong easterly sea breezes often held back the western-born thunderstorms, with the intra-coastal waterway acting as a dividing line between sun and rain.
“Great. Have time for a walk before we meet Ann for dinner?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you at the house as soon as I finish up these invoices.” Becca owned a successful antiques business specializing in English furnishings. Her husband, a retired financial planner-turned-author and part-time professor, served a silent partner in the business, with an emphasis on silent. Becca was a very savvy businesswoman, with an eye for beautiful, tasteful home décor.
“Perfect.”
Sarah picked up her purse and turned off the lights, looking back at her office. Maybe soon she’d be moving to the big corner office with a spectacular view of the River City and its many bridges.
On her way out, she stopped by Carlos’ desk. “Carlos, can you give this contract to Kim to handle? I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Sure. Have a nice weekend.”
“Thanks. See you Monday.”
He wore an odd expression, like he wanted to say something.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“No. Good night.” He watched her walk down the hall, an expression of yearning evident to any who cared to notice.
In the hospital parking garage, Sarah slid into the delicious buff leather seats of her ruby-red metallic impulse buy. Too bad it was raining. She’d like to put the top down.
Shifting the car into gear, she pulled out of the garage. Maybe leaving early she’d beat the rush hour traffic. Anna Nalick sang on the radio entreating everyone ‘to just breathe.’ Sarah took her advice and drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.
Impulsive. That wasn’t an adjective commonly associated with her. Dependable, steady, deliberate. Those were more common. Some would even consider her cautious. She’d always considered herself a planner. Until recently.
Was she too cautious? Well, this sleek sports car that now called her single-car garage home was anything but.
She cringed when she thought about what her best friend, Ann, and Becca would say when they saw it. Ann would likely think it was cool. Becca, on the other hand, would likely lecture in her give-me-strength mother-of-teenagers tone. Becca took her older sister role a little too seriously at times.
She could also imagine their elation when she told them about her meeting with Ken; and their frustration at her need to think about it.
The offer was a testament to Ken’s faith in her legal skills and abilities. A little nervous butterfly fluttered in her stomach.
The job would mean a lot of change, something she wasn’t very good at. She preferred the familiar, the routine. Taking another deep breath, she told herself she would just establish new, higher-paid routines.
After crossing the intra-coastal, Sarah pulled over to let the top down for the remaining few miles to Becca’s beach house. The sun shone in a brilliant blue sky, the steel-gray clouds she’d left behind reflected in the rearview mirror.
Never mind that her too-public divorce left her shying away from public attention, heads turned at the beautiful brunette in the sexy red Porsche.
The wind tangled her hair, blowing away the remaining stress of the day. Cool wet sand massaging bare feet, accompanied by the soothing aromatherapy of the Atlantic’s salt tang, was almost in her grasp. Nature’s most perfect spa treatment.
“I ran into Adrian yesterday,” Becca said with some hesitation, as she and Sarah walked on the beach. “Honey, he’s getting married again.”
“Oh. Well. Wow.” Sarah stopped in her tracks, and bent over as if inspecting a shark’s tooth, so Becca wouldn’t notice the tears that sprang into her eyes.
“Congratulations to the happy couple, I guess. That didn’t take long,” Sarah continued. “Is it his nurse?” Adrian’s cliché affair with his operating room nurse was the proverbial final straw in their short, troubled marriage.