Nine Steps to Sara (8 page)

“We haven’t had lunch yet,” Sara gave Will a pointed look, turning to Joanie for support, but she was on her own.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I’d rather hit the candy shack over an antique shop any day of the week,” she snorted. 

“
Alright
, but keep the sampling to a minimum until after you’ve had more to eat than a mouthful of bacon,” Sara sighed, giving up in the face of his enthusiasm. 

“Sorry, my Lady, but I thought it would interest the boy,” Will offered an unrepentant smile as he fell into step beside her.  “You could hardly have expected him to be interested in a tour of the china shop.”

“Yes, but now I won’t be able to take him into the china shop after he’s all hopped up on chocolate,” she returned with a wry grin.  “I thought you were going to call me Sara.”

“Only when we’re alone,” he reminded her gently.  “I
’d
be very happy to keep him company while you’re busy browsing.  I admit, I’ve never been much for shopping myself.”

“No interest in antiques?”

“Plenty of interest, a little short on funds for the nonessentials of life,” he admitted and Sara exchanged a knowing smile with him.

“Ah, I’ve definitely been there,” she admitted.  “I appreciate the offer then, I’m sure Jack would be more than happy to have a local expert, but I warn you, he’s eight; that means he’s made of questions.”

“I remember the age well, my Lady.  I assure you, I’m up to the challenge.”  With a wink, Will left her side to keep pace with Jack, easily engaging him in conversation. 

“When did you become best friends with the chauffeur?” Joanie asked as soon as she caught up, having a little trouble with her heels on the cobblestones.

“He’s not the chauffeur,” Sara smiled, her eyes on Will’s back, watching Jack laugh at something he’d said.

“Okay, Mr. McHottie then?”

“We had a conversation outside before I came to get you, that’s all.”

“You seem pretty chummy after one conversation, I didn’t think you normally worked that fast.  He is pretty hot for a Brit though, I’ll give you that.”

“Joanie!”

“What?”

“What a thing to say!” Sara breathed, looking around to see if anyone was in listening distance.  The street was pretty sleepy,
only
a few pedestrians out, but everyone seemed to be watching them with undisguised interest. 

“I’m just saying, he’s got all his teeth, and he’s not all pasty pale, that’s a good start.”

“People might hear you,” Sara hissed, wondering for the zillionth time why that never occurred to her best friend.

“So what?  They’re going to judge me for being an American anyway, why not give them something interesting to talk about?” she grinned.  “So, what else does he do for you?” Joanie linked her arm through hers when Sara stared back at her blankly.

“Huh?”

“He works for you, right?  What else does he do?” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively until Sara laughed.

“Ugh, you’re sick, you know that?”  Joanie’s unflappable sense of humor was part of the reason they’d been friends for so long.  Sara was willing to overlook the cynical touches that crept in more often than not, especially because she knew that at her core, Joanie wasn’t petty or spiteful, just... colorful.

“Hey, I just want to know where I can get one.  Ooh, that’s a great idea.  Instead of getting me a lady’s maid like you got, do you think you could get me my own manservant?  Or more like a cabana boy?  He could fan me with palm fronds and offer me peeled grapes and stuff.”

“We’re in
England
, not the
West Indies
,” Sara rolled her eyes.  “I should get you a nanny instead.”

“On second thought, I’ll take a lady’s maid, only one that isn’t afraid of her own shadow like yours.”

“You have to be a lady before I can get you a lady’s maid,” Sara teased and Joanie took it in stride.

“Touché.”

While Will kept Jack entertained, Sara visited every shop
lining
the sides of the main street, not wanting to slight anyone.  Joanie came with her when
it piqued her interest
, but more often than not, begged off to sit outside on one of the many wrought iron benches provided for just such a purpose. 

Everywhere Sara went, the people seemed to know exactly who she was and where she’d come from.  She probably should have expected that, but she hadn’t expected them to be so open and welcoming, as if she was the greatest thing since sliced bread.  Maybe she felt a little on display as people watched her shop, but no one had an unkind thing to say and they were very sweet to Jack.  There weren’t many people her age though, the population seemed to be predominantly in their fifties or older.  There were no children to be seen anywhere and there was no sign of a school. 

An interesting mish mash of odds and ends led her into a deserted curio shop, the lonely bell above the door her only company until a raspy voice spoke at her elbow.

“I’ve dipped wicks for your lands my entire life.”

“Huh?” Sara turned to find a stooped old man, smiling up at her with a gap-toothed grin.  Unruly tufts of hair stuck out above both ears giving him a slightly frazzled appearance.  Grizzled and worn, his eyes shone a vivid, bright blue in stark contrast to his grayed out complexion. 

“Dipped wicks,” he repeated as if that made it perfectly clear.  “And poured as well, though I don’t think they burn as evenly.”

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He presented her with a pair of hand dipped taper candles, joined by a single wick and she started to clue in on the topic at hand.  “These are my
specialty;
you can thank Bernice for those.”

Sara accepted them; they were a deep, rich blue on the bottom fading to a lighter shade at the top.  “Oh, you make candles, I
get it
,” she breathed a sigh of relief that they were finally on the same page.  “Bernice?  Is that your wife?”

“She’s my queen,” he laughed, or maybe he coughed, she couldn’t be sure.

“Right…”

“Of the bees, you know.” 

“
B
ees,” Sara nodded, thinking she was still missing part of the conversation, or maybe his picnic basket was missing a few sandwiches up top.  “So, you’re a bee keeper and a candle maker.”

“
Chandler
by profession,” he admitted proudly.  “Though I have to sell my treasures to keep afloat these days,” he looked around with a brokenhearted sigh.  Though one wall of the shop was devoted to candles, the rest was dominated by everything from carved jewelry boxes to cartography equipment.   

“I’m sorry, Mr…?”

“Name’s Pottinger, my Lady.  Don’t feel sorry for me though.  All about to change, mark my words.  Well, you know all about that.”

“I know all about what?”  Sara couldn’t decide if she was supposed to know what he was talking about
,
or if he didn’t make sense to anyone but himself. 

“The change coming.  There’s bound to be an end to the rum luck we’ve had these past thirty years now there’s a Darling back in the house.” 

Her brows knit together in puzzlement as to why he’d link his success or failure to anything having to do with her family’s house.  “Why would that have anything to do with your luck?”

“Ah,” he tapped his nose knowingly.  “I take your meaning, my Lady.  Play it close to the vest by all means.  You never know who might be listening.”

Sara stared back at him blankly.  “Who might be listening?  We’re the only ones here.”

“Never you mind about that, there’s always ears about,” he nodded sagely, voice dropping conspiratorially.  “Mind what you say, especially when you think you’re alone, my Lady.  Mark my
words;
we won’t see the light without a fair amount of darkness ahead.”

She didn’t even begin to know how to respond to that piece of advice.  Luckily, she didn’t have to as the bell above the door jangled cheerily and Will strode in.  “Ah, there you are, my Lady.  We
wondered
where you’d gotten off to.  Jack’s been asking for you.”

“Oh yes, best see to the boy’s needs,” the old man drew a raspy breath.  “It wouldn’t do for anything to befall him yet, would it?”

Yet?
  Sara opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but Will was already at her elbow, steering her towards the door.  “Good afternoon, we really must be off now,” he had them outside on the street with a jangle of the bell inside of five seconds. 

“There is something seriously wrong with that guy,” Sara murmured, looking back over her shoulder where Pottinger waved cheerily from the window.

“He’s harmless
really;
just a bit… eccentric is all.”

“Eccentric?  You should have heard some of the stuff he said about bad luck.   And what was that about Jack not being ready for an accident
yet
?”

“You’ll have to forgive some of the older folks around here, they’re a mite superstitious.  I’m sure it was his way of saying we should take care not to let Jack wander off alone until he’s accustomed to the territory,” he shrugged it off.  “No worries there, your friend’s with him.”

Maybe so, but she couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to that conversation than could be shrugged away.  “Oh, I forgot to pay for these,” she still had the taper candles in her hand.

“Don’t fret, Sara, I’m sure he’ll add it to the account.  He supplies the house with all of the candles; I pick them up once a week.”

“Oh.”
At least he was calling her Sara again…
  “So you play delivery boy as well? Besides not being a chauffeur.  What else do you do?”

“I
dreamt
of being an architect once, but it didn’t work out.”

“No?  Why not?” 

“Jack and Miss Sunshine are waiting for us at the
Bell
and
Cross;
it’s a small inn with a public dining room.  I thought you might want a bit of refreshment.”

It wasn’t lost on her that he’d changed the subject, but she had no right to demand he tell her his secrets; especially not on the first day.  “That’s probably a good idea, it’s been a long time since breakfast, Jack is probably starving.  Or did you let him eat all that candy?”

“I might have let him carry the bag,” he replied with a faint smile, refusing to look at her and Sara couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Then real food is definitely in order.  Miss Sunshine, huh?  I take it Joanie’s not on your list of favorite people so far?”

“Let’s say if she was the heir, I would have let her walk to town,” he replied with a wink, holding the door open for her.

“Hey Mom, wait ‘til you see what I got!” Jack ran up to greet Sara as soon as she stepped into the dining room.  Large trestle tables were set up to encourage community dining as well as a few smaller tables along one wall.  A quick search showed Joanie taking up the entire side of one table, her feet propped up on the chair beside her. 

“What is it, kiddo?”

“I got a lucky hat for fishing.  Will said you have to have a lucky hat or the fish won’t bite.  I’ve never heard of that before, have you?”

“Ah… it’s been a long time, but ye
s
, I think there’s a fair amount of luck involved with fishing,” Sara grinned over Jack’s enthusiasm. 

“Will said he’d teach me how to fish if you said so, will you say so?”