The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,63
it. His handsome face graced the cover of the DVD. He was attired in Regency garb, facing the actress who she assumed played Fanny Price, his arm around her waist. She felt an irrational stab of jealousy for the actress. She flipped a few more pages. Tess of the d’Urbervilles was also in the catalog.
She hadn’t forgotten that his movies were likely available, but some vestiges of self-preservation had prevented her from tracking them down. Now, out of the blue, here were all three.
On a whim, she went to her computer and ordered them, paying the excessive cost for two-day shipping, so she would have them by the weekend. So much for self-preservation.
Lying on the couch, still in her pajamas yet having never gone to bed, Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes. She’d just finished watching Jude the Obscure . . . for the second time.
Seeing Alex in the romantic period costumes was agony, hearing his beautiful voice, the flowing lines spoken in his clipped accent, torture. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. She’d already watched the other two movies twice each.
Her doorbell rang. Reluctantly, she went to see who it could be. Ann. She groaned. She’d completely forgotten about their shopping date. Shame-faced, Sarah opened the door.
Before Sarah could apologize, Ann blurted, “Why aren’t you dressed? Are you sick? What’s the matter?”
She held the door wide for Ann to come in. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot . . .”
“You look like something the cat dragged in,” she said without mixing her metaphors for once. “And you’ve been crying.”
She plopped down on the sofa, pulling Sarah down with her. That’s when she saw the DVDs on the coffee table.
“Is this him?” she said picking up the cover for Mansfield Park and examining it. “Oh my. He is gorgeous! I’m sorry, that slipped. Isn’t it unusual for an Earl to have a . . . profession? I mean, shouldn’t he be, I don’t know, managing his Earldom?”
“Flogging his serfs, conspiring to usurp the crown, locking virgins in the tower?” Sarah shook her head. “You’ve been reading too many bodice-rippers.”
Ann swatted at her. “No but, it just seems weird that he would be an actor.”
“Many titled men and women have professions outside their estates, from publishers and journalists, to broadcasters and artists.” Sarah sniffled. “Oh, Ann. I miss him so much.”
“Honey, why are you doing this to yourself?” She took Sarah’s hand in hers. “I’ve already told you I think you should call him, but if you’re standing by your stubborn refusal, why are you torturing yourself this way?”
“I don’t know.” Sarah looked down and a crystal teardrop fell on their hands. “Maybe I just need to get him out of my system, and this is the final cleansing self-flagellation.”
“Ah. Come here.” She gave Sarah a big hug. “My Aunt Bertie always said, ‘When life throws you a curve ball, make lemonade.’ I’m still not sure what that means, but it seems appropriate.”
Sarah laughed out loud. It felt good. “Thanks.”
“What are best friends for, if not to make each other laugh?”
Chapter 2
The in-person interview with Harper Legal finally came through. Next week Sarah would fly to Atlanta, the company headquarters, for a full day of interviews, including lunch and dinner, before flying home the next day.
It was a grueling process, and one she was not looking forward to. It didn’t help that the potential job just wasn’t doing it for her. But it was income, and distraction, both of which she could use right now.
Ann came over to help her decide what to wear: the conservative black Tahari suit with the python Stuart Weitzman pumps, or the slightly edgy chocolate brown Mark Jacobs, with the croc peep toes of the same name.
“Oh, definitely the Mark Jacobs,” Ann confirmed. “Gives you an I’m-confident-yet-understated look. And the peep toes add a little sex-appeal,” she added as she stepped into the shoes and struck a pose in front of the mirror. “A girl’s gotta use all the weapons in her arsenal.”
Sarah chuckled at her friend’s antics.
The phone rang. Ann followed Sarah into her sitting room strutting her stuff like a runway model. “Ooh. Love these shoes. If you ever decide you don’t want them anymore, remember me, your best friend in the whole world.”
“Hello,” Sarah said into the phone while shaking her head at her friend.
“Hi, Sar, it’s Kim.”
“Oh, hi, Kim. What’s up?”
“Listen, I’ve got some horrible news. Ken’s dead.”
“What!” Sarah collapsed into the armchair, her hand to her chest.