The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,62

the house.

“The mail is on your desk. You’ll also be happy to see that your plants survived in your absence,” Ann said, indicating the still-healthy plants in her study, “and that the backyard birds didn’t starve.”

“Thanks Ann. I really appreciate it. Which reminds me, I have gifts for you both, but they’re buried in my luggage somewhere . . .”

“You’re such a giver. That’s why we like giving to you in return,” Ann said, with feeling.

Before Ann could return to her interrogation about the trip, Becca said, “You must be exhausted. We’ll let you get unpacked. Get some rest,” she finished, giving Sarah another hug. Ann followed suit, leaving her alone with her broken heart.

Sarah looked around her house. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed it. Tomorrow was Monday. Her telephone interview with Harper Legal Consultants was at two, giving her less than a day to rest and catch up on things, before circling back to the more pressing matter of her unemployment.

Last week had been a wonderful fantasy . . . well, up until Friday night . . . but it was time to close that door and come back down to reality. Return to being sensible Sarah. She’d get a job, put her nonsensical past behavior behind her, bury her ridiculous dreams for the future, and get over Alex. In that order.

Part II

Chapter 1

As much as she dreaded returning to the job search, she found she was fortunate to have something to take her mind off Alex, if only for a while. It had been almost two weeks since she’d left England, but he proved difficult to forget, even though four thousand miles separated them. In Guy’s words, she’d fallen ‘arse over tip’ in love with Alex.

She knew now that what she’d taken for heartbreak after her hapless marriage to Adrian ended had only been wounded pride, a deflated ego, and of course the shame of having failed. What she suffered then paled in comparison to what she suffered now. This was the real thing.

Subtle reminders taunted any attempt to put that perfect week behind her: the faint scent of his cologne that lingered on her clothes when she’d unpacked; the cheesy Jane Austen replica cross he purchased for her in Lacock; other small, inconsequential souvenirs like the program from As You Like It; the notorious hair clip; and of course the photos of them from the trip.

Stop, she admonished herself. She promised herself she would close the door. Alex would get over it. He’s a handsome, charming, sweet, sexy . . . . Stop! Someone with an open heart, minimal baggage, and a strong constitution for public attention would come along and make him forget about her.

She was confident he would get over it, but would she?

“Do you want to get together this weekend, maybe do a little shopping?” Ann asked with her usual buoyant enthusiasm, but Sarah knew she was just trying to cheer her up.

“Sure,” she said with feigned interest. “Where should we go?” she asked, idly flipping through a catalog that sold books, videos, and other gifts.

“Let’s go to the new outdoor shopping center. It’s supposed to be enormous.”

“Sure. That sounds great.”

Both she and Becca had been poking and prodding her into various social activities. After finally breaking down and telling them about Alex, they’d been especially solicitous, but also extremely meddlesome.

They were hurt at first that she hadn’t fully disclosed all the details of her vacation. Then they couldn’t understand why she refused to contact him again; get over her fear of public scrutiny, and apologize for leaving him. Wasn’t he worth overcoming her trifling social anxiety disorder?

She finally had to put her foot down and threaten that if they didn’t stop nagging her, she would stop talking to them altogether. And it wasn’t social anxiety disorder. It was simply an aversion to public attention.

Ann rambled on about the kids and Rob. Even though she felt guilty about it, Sarah only listened with half an ear. Suddenly, there it was: Alex’s movie, Jude the Obscure. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat and her eyes welled with tears.

“Sarah . . . Sarah . . . are you there?” Ann’s insistent voice yanked her back to the present, reminding her that she was still on the phone.

“Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” Sarah hung up before Ann could answer.

Was Mansfield Park also in the catalog, she wondered? She flipped quickly through the pages. After turning a few more pages, she found