“I had no idea you could bake like that. What was in that apricot one?”
“I used Moscato d’Asti in the zabaglione,” she said over her shoulder as she went to her bedroom. “See you in the morning.”
Mike stood there blinking. She’d used an Italian dessert wine to make the creamy sauce. Since he’d met her, he’d had the impression that Sara knew little about cooking. True, Tess had sent him her apple bread, but that could have been the only thing she knew how to make. But from what he’d seen and tasted today, Sara could give the pastry chef at the five-star hotel where he’d worked undercover a run for his money.
The more he learned about Sara Shaw, the more he liked.
16
MIKE SPENT SATURDAY at a golf course in Williamsburg with Sara’s father, a retired doctor who was as laid-back as his wife was hyper. He spoke of Sara with love in his voice, and Mike often felt the man watching him.
It went against Mike’s grain to throw any sports match, but he didn’t want to make Sara’s father look bad. At the first tee, Mike didn’t make his best effort and the ball fell far short of the hole.
Dr. Henry Shaw looked at Mike in speculation. “The lower your score, the better I’ll speak about you to my youngest daughter.”
Mike looked at the man for a moment, mumbled “another matchmaker,” then made a hole in one.
By the time they got back to the clubhouse, half a dozen men were asking for games with him.
“What they need are lessons,” Dr. Shaw said under his breath and slapped Mike on the shoulder.
“So what about our deal?” Mike asked.
“I would have done that anyway. Luke said you were a natural athlete, and I wanted to see if it was true.”
“Now I see where Sara got her love of conniving.”
Dr. Shaw laughed heartily. “Don’t tell her mother that. Ellie thinks Sara is the ‘weak’ one.”
The two men had lunch together, and Mike was introduced to everyone as “Sara’s friend.” Not one person mentioned that Sara’s wedding date—to another man—was soon approaching.
That night, Mike was to go on his date with Ariel Frazier.
“I’ll cancel it if you want,” he told Sara when he got back to the apartment.
“Why would I want that? Ariel is intelligent, well traveled, and she’s beautiful. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
It was, of course, absurd, but Mike was disappointed when Sara didn’t mind that he had a date with another woman. During the last few days, they’d come to … well, almost live together. They shared most meals, went nearly everywhere together, and people in Edilean seemed to consider them a couple.
“Are you sure?” Mike asked.
“Go on. Have a good time. I’ll see what Joce is doing. Luke said he’d be busy writing, so Joce will be alone.”
“If you’re sure it’s all right …”
“Go! Enjoy yourself.”
As soon as Mike was out the door, Sara texted Joce:
DID I EVER MENTION THAT I HATE ARIEL FRAZIER?
Jocelyn replied with
MIKE WON’T LIKE HER. COME OVER AND WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT.
As Sara clicked off her phone, she tried to remember Greg’s face. She could, but not clearly. And she had no pictures of him to remind her. One of Greg’s former girlfriends had been a professional photographer, and he said she’d been so horrible to him that she’d turned him against ever again having his picture taken. When Sara thought of that now, she wondered if it was a true story.
Over the last few days not only Greg’s face had faded from her mind but also the … well, the essence of him. All she seemed able to remember now was the work he piled on her and how he made her feel confused and inadequate.