Rocky Mountain Legacy

“If you had to cart those musty old wedding catalogs out of the storeroom, you’d be checking yourself for dust, too.” Sara avoided Katie’s quizzical gaze. “I’m not sure why you chose me for that crummy job, but I sure got filthy. I’m glad you forgot you’d left this suit from the cleaners here. I needed a change.”

“You look great in it.”

“Thanks. I worked up an appetite, too. I can hardly wait for lunch.”

“Hmm.” Katie turned away, checked the clock. “It’s early, but you might as well go now, while it’s quiet. Who knows what the afternoon will bring?”

“As long as it’s not more dust.” She paused, chose her words carefully. “I’m meeting someone for lunch, so I probably won’t be back early.”

Sara had expected her sister to start asking questions. Yet Katie seemed oddly uninterested in anything except the computer in front of her.

“Fine.”

“Okay, then, see you later.”

“Uh-huh.” Katie didn’t even glance at her. That was odd.

Sara stepped through the door and lifted her face, reveling in the sun’s warmth. Even L.A. weather couldn’t match the startling clarity of an October morning in Denver. Crisp leaves hung in shimmering burned umber against the cerulean sky. Tiny gusts of wind danced several fallen ones across the sidewalk in front of her. They crackled when she stepped on them.

God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world.

Adam Woodward, Sara’s grandfather, had penned Robert Browning’s famous poem in his diary many times in the last months of his life. In her senior year of high school, when Sara had discovered the leather-bound volume, she’d read it. There she’d felt more kinship with a man she’d never met than she’d ever known with her family.

She’d begged Winnie to provide other journals and poured over them, too, identifying with her grandfather’s yearning to leave Europe and the family pottery business to make his own mark in America. The porcelain doll faces Winnie kept in a special glass case proved Grandpa Adam’s talent. They also whetted Sara’s creative itch.

Her grandfather’s faith was the one thing Sara couldn’t share. She’d never felt the close bond with God that her grandfather wrote about, never felt accepted or approved of by God. Never felt she fit into the image the minister described. Her family’s easy faith made Sara uncomfortable in church, as if she didn’t measure up. As if she didn’t have the right to be there, to pretend she belonged where she so clearly didn’t.

Years later not a lot had changed in her faith journey.

Sara quashed an inner voice that asked her why and instead concentrated on the beautiful day.

The nonlethal shoes Sara borrowed from Abby Franklin, Woodwards’ chief jeweler, made the two-block walk to Cartier’s fly past. Sara wouldn’t admit her light heart had a thing to do with the fact that she would see Cade Porter in a few minutes. Of course not. He was a client, a very nice one, but only a client. But she couldn’t dislodge a tiny tremor of anticipation quaking in her midsection.

Until reality hit.

“Mother?” Sara flopped against the entrance column in a rush of disbelief. Her parents were in Italy. That was why she’d had to come home to help out.

“Hello, darling!” Fiona Woodward enveloped Sara in a cloud of expensive perfume. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” After a moment she drew away. “Love that suit.”

“Thanks.” Sara knew from experience how easily her mother could evade questions. “What are you doing here, Mom? I thought you were—”

“In Italy. We were.” Fiona preened a little, flashing an anniversary ring Sara had never seen before. “Your father and I flew home this morning, a few days early so we could help with the big society wedding on Saturday. We decided to stop for lunch before going to the store. Are you home for a while?”

A quick scan of the restaurant showed Sara that Cade had not yet arrived. Given her mother’s insatiable curiosity about every detail of her life, Sara considered that a definite blessing.

“Honey?” Her mother twisted to survey the area. “Are you meeting someone?”

There was no point prevaricating. Her mother would find out. She always did. Then the questions would be nonstop.

“I am meeting a friend for lunch.” Sara opened her eyes wide and smiled innocently. “But I want to hear all about your trip.”

“Meaning you’ll be in town for a few days?” Her mother’s eyes sparkled. “How lovely. We’ll have time to talk. I must run now, though. Your father went to snag a cab.”

Grandma Winnie!

“Mom, there’s something you should—”

“No time now, darling. Later. After work.” With a quick buss cheek to cheek, Fiona rushed away, high heels tapping against the concrete.

Sara raised her hand to call her back, but her mother closed the door on a cab and it was too late to say anything to prepare them for Winnie’s illness. Well, maybe it was better if Katie did it. They’d listen to her.

Good thing Cade wasn’t here yet. No telling how long her mother would have stayed if she’d known about him. Why hadn’t she refused to help him? Getting involved in his sister’s wedding would only give the family more leverage. Now her parents were back, maybe she could return to L.A., although she’d go without having done any of the special-effects work she’d hoped to begin.

A hand brushed her arm.

“Hello.” Cade’s blue eyes sparkled in the sunshine. “Been waiting long?”

“Actually I just arrived.”

“Bad morning?” His hand rested against her waist as he escorted her to the maître d’s desk.

Sara pretended nonchalance while her heart leaped at the contact.

“My mother was here.”

“I’m sorry I missed her.”

I’m not.

“She and my father have been in Italy, celebrating their anniversary. I had no idea they were coming back today. I don’t think anyone else does, either.” In fact, judging by Katie’s plan to clear out storerooms, Sara was certain her parents were supposed to be gone for at least another week.

Fiona mentioned a big society wedding, but no one had told Sara. She ignored the tiny twinge of hurt she felt at being left out. How silly to feel hurt. She wasn’t a real employee at Woodwards. She didn’t want to be.

“Your parents came home because of your grandmother?”

“I don’t think they know about her yet. I thought the family was keeping it a secret so my parents could enjoy their well-deserved vacation.”

“Maybe someone decided it was better if they knew the truth.”

“I guess.” But no one had told her that, either, which bugged Sara.

They were seated at a window table overlooking Cartier’s delightful garden. Outside, golden sheaves of mature grasses waved in the breeze. A few flowers, unscathed from last night’s frost, still bloomed.

“I haven’t been here before. Thanks for asking me.” Sara accepted from the waiter the heavy white card with the day’s menu on it. “I’ll look, but after those buttery croissants yesterday, I’m on salad for a while.”

“Aw, come on. You can’t expect me to enjoy my meal while you’re nibbling rabbit food.” Cade’s white teeth flashed.

“I guess soup would be okay.” With those blue eyes staring, Sara wasn’t sure she’d be able to swallow a thing.