A Stranger Like You Page 6

  “George?” Sarah enquired as she pulled up a chair. The kitchen was clean, and now she could relax with a glass of Port and a stranger’s memories.

  “My late husband. We fell in love almost immediately. Got married a few months later. His father was fighting in Vietnam, so he couldn’t attend the wedding. A few months later, we received news of his death. He died a hero in Vietnam. George inherited quite some money as he was the only child.” Gladys started fiddling with a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. “Well, as I fell in love, my dreams started to take new shape. George and I started dreaming of having a place where we could entertain all day and make a living. So when this property came on sale, we didn’t hesitate. We renovated it some, built the extra cottages and believed this is where we would grow old together.” A wistful look settled in Gladys’s eyes as she told the story.

  “Please do continue, it sounds like a wonderful love story.” Sarah encouraged.

  “Oh, it was, dear.” Gladys wiped tear from her eye. “We thought if we could run Oak Cottages together it would be the perfect life. I would cook for the guests, he would show them the sights and we’d always be together. Then he got drafted ...” Gladys reached into her pocket for a handkerchief with little flower prints on it.

  “He never came home, did he?” Sarah gently probed.

  At Gladys’s nod Sarah felt such empathy for this woman. She was so strong, so independent, yet the loss of George, her true love, still haunted her almost forty years later. It was that kind of love that Sarah wanted, not an arranged marriage.

  “I’m truly sorry.”

  At those words, Gladys quickly wiped away the tears and blew her nose. “Don’t you be sorry. I had the love of one of the greatest men the world has ever seen, I’m living the dream we had for each other, and living that dream allows me to feel close to him even forty years after I lost him.” She put her hand on Sarah’s. “Don’t ever be afraid to love, Sarah. I can tell you’re running from something, and I haven’t pried and I won’t. I’ve been around long enough to know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” She touched Sarah’s hand. “But until then, just remember true love isn’t something you can run from, it follows you.”

  “I’m not running from love.” That was the most Sarah was willing to tell her at this time, and at least it wasn’t a lie.

  “Then at least I don’t have to worry about a desperate man banging on our door in the middle of the night.” Gladys let out soft laugh at her own statement.

  The following morning Sarah was up early helping Gladys prepare and serve breakfast. After the guests had all checked out, her morning was consumed with collecting and changing linens. It was hard but satisfying work.

  Once she was content all the chores were done she headed to the small study to browse the internet for work in the area. She found a site that boasted all available positions in Blue Hill, but once she started browsing, she frowned at the few positions available. She was glad when Gladys entered the study with a lovely tea set and petit fours on a tray.

  “Come, sit down,” Gladys summoned. “I see you’re looking for vacancies in the area?”

  Sarah stood up from the computer after closing the browser and went to join Gladys. “Yes, I am. But I can’t seem to find anything that isn’t either at the diner, the lumberyard or on a boat.” She let out a woeful sigh.

  “Maybe I can help you with that.” Gladys looked at Sarah over the rim of her cup. “But before I can make any suggestions, I need to know how long you are planning to stay in Blue Hill.”

  Sarah picked up one of the delicate petit fours; the burst of flavors in her mouth was amazing, tart and sweet at the same time.

  “This is wonderful!” She picked up her tea. “To answer your question, I’m not entirely sure.” Sarah thought about lying to Gladys, but she had been so kind, maybe it was time to tell her why she was here. “If I hadn’t ended up in Blue Hill, I would’ve been married by now.”

  She explained the whole story, from the initial planning of the wedding where her father and mother sat her down and explained how crucial this marriage would be to their wealth and their position in the community; to the moment where she pulled up at Oak Cottages. Gladys listened intently without interrupting until Sarah was finished.

  “Well, dear, I’m sure your parents have your best interests at heart, however I cannot fathom how they think they can force you to marry someone you don’t love.” Gladys shook her head, contemplating her own statement, and continued, this time sounding slightly pissed off. “On second thought, they didn’t have your best interest at heart, a marriage without love is a business agreement, and the world has enough of those.”

  Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t know what she expected Gladys’s response to be, but she was grateful for it.

  “I agree, and I have no idea how long it will take them to get over the fact that I’m not getting married. I thought a few months would give them some time to think and to realize this isn’t a good idea, and if they still think it is a good idea, they’ll know I’m not willing to be part of it. But for that part I need to grow a backbone first.” She toyed with the rim of the glass before continuing in softer tone. “As long as I can remember, I’ve been pushed and manipulated into doing what they expected of me.”

  Gladys nodded, her eyes roaming the room as if searching for the right words. “Right. Well, we’re going into autumn, and Oak Cottages still have a few bookings ahead before we close up for winter. How about I offer you food and board, and you help me?”

  Sarah couldn’t believe it; she might be able to stay in the lap of luxury. “But what about Lila?”

  “Lila’s had enough chances as it is, and I’m sure she’s only still helping out because her mother and I are good friends. And if she really wants to work at Oak Cottages, there is more than enough for both of you to do. It’ll lighten my load, and I won’t have to worry about Lila not showing up whenever we have guests.”

  “I’d like that. Would I need to move to another room?” Sarah asked.

  “No, that won’t be necessary, unless ...” Gladys pondered a moment. “We won’t be booked full again until next summer. I’ve checked the bookings and we have one cottage open until spring. You’re welcome to it. I know that’s a long way off, but at least you’ll have the option, and it’s one less cottage for me to worry about come winter, and that way you’ll even have some privacy.”

  Sarah was elated. She’d have her own cottage, Gladys would be cooking her delectable meals, and she’d be able to work and live at Oak Cottages. She stood up and shook Gladys’s hand. “Thank you so much, Gladys. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Well, come on now.” Gladys stood and motioned towards the door, indicating Sarah should precede her. “Let’s go take a look at your cottage.”

  As they followed the footpath toward the cottages, Gladys kept on chattering.

  “It won’t be a lot of work, and you’ll still have plenty of free time. I’ll mostly need you at breakfast and to do housekeeping. Some days will be quiet, some days will be havoc.”

  Sarah laughed as she stepped onto a wooden porch. The view was even more breathtaking than on the veranda of the main house. There were two chairs and a small table where she could enjoy morning coffee or an afternoon read.

  When Gladys opened the door the scent of lavender polish mixed with the musty smell of wood drifted out. Sarah eagerly stepped inside. It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small either. Her gaze first settled on a heavy bookcase that stood below the window overlooking the Mount Desert Narrows. Adjacent to the bookcase was a small writing desk with a pad of paper and a desk light.

  It looked cozy and inviting. She walked towards a beautiful log bed boasting a quilted bedspread in hues of orange and red wine. The earthy scent from fireplace and the comforting color scheme made her feel at home instantly.

  She stepped into the en suite bathroom, and although it was small, the colors complemented the wood of
the cabin. She turned away and noticed against the far wall there was a fireplace with a log pile. A comfortable couch rested in front of the fireplace; it wasn’t as beautiful as it was inviting. A flat screen television was mounted above the fireplace.

  The cabin boasted none of the luxuries and amenities Sarah was used to, but oddly enough she felt home.

  She turned to Gladys. “I’ll take it!”

  After settling in and collecting her things from the main house, Sarah felt the temperature dropping. Autumn was different in Maine than it was in Savannah. In Savannah it felt like you could finally breathe when summer subsided and autumn blew in. In Maine it felt clean and the air tasted new. She sat on her porch until it was time for bed, dreaming of new beginnings.

  The following morning Sarah made her way to the main house after clearing out the cottages of dirty linens and empty supplies. A car was parked out front and she made her way round the back to enter that way. As she approached she heard voices in the kitchen. Gladys was chattering about the convention guests, and a male voice laughed. Sarah peered through the door, without Gladys and her guest noticing her.

  “Lisa’s in love again, this time it’s a musician from Long Island,” the man said with a faint smile touching his lips.

  “Well, at least she’s not hiding from love like you are.” Gladys slid a cup of coffee toward him as Sarah stepped in. “Oh, there you are, Sarah; our next guest has arrived.” She took Sarah’s hand and led her towards the man.

  Sarah was confused. “I thought we didn’t have guests until the weekend?”

  “Honey, Caleb has been coming here for so long, he’s more like family, and strangely enough he’s never shown up without me having a place to put him. Sarah Rothman, meet Caleb Sullivan.”

  He was tall; even sitting, Sarah could see this wasn’t a small man. He was built with the taut muscled limbs and grace of an athlete. Dark brown hair; Sarah guessed it would appear black when wet. His eyes were the same shade of green the sea took on before a storm and when he looked at her and smiled, her heart nearly stopped. There was something in his gaze that felt like he could see into her soul.

  When their hands touched, it sent tingles up her arms. Sarah had never had a reaction to a man before; it was completely foreign to her. She quickly withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, as if that would stop her response to this handsome stranger.

  “Pleased to meet you, Sarah,” Caleb said as he curiously watched her. He had felt the connection too and was no less surprised by it. “Are you the new housekeeper?”

  “Well, yes, I mean no.” Sarah stumbled, unsure of her new position, and looked towards Gladys for clarification.

  Gladys felt the tension in the air and knew something more than an autumn storm brewed. “Sarah is helping out for a couple of months; she’s staying in one of the cottages.” Gladys headed to the coffee machine and poured some for Sarah. She handed her the mug. “Have a seat, dear. Caleb was just telling me about his sister’s new boyfriend.”

  “We’ll see if he lasts long enough for her to call him her boyfriend.” Caleb said affectionately. He turned to Sarah. “You see my sister has this addiction to falling in love. And every time she does, she believes it will last forever.” He picked up a biscuit from the plate Gladys had placed in front of them. “Until it doesn’t.”

  Sarah merely nodded, not knowing how to react on information about his sister’s love life, when they had barely met.

  Caleb and Gladys chatted amiably about his family and Oak Cottages, and Sarah felt left out. She had never been comfortable discussing her private life with strangers, and yet she wanted to be part of this easy banter and caring. She deduced from the conversation that he had two brothers and a sister. He lived in Wilmington, but came here frequently enough for Gladys to serve him in the kitchen.

  When the cups were empty and the biscuits eaten, Gladys started clearing. “Caleb, it’s been wonderful catching up and I do hope you stay for a quite a while?” Tea time was over and Gladys was back to business.

  “I was hoping you could squeeze me in for at least two months.” He looked at Gladys expectantly. “Maybe through winter if you’ll have me?”

  “I see,” said Gladys conspiratorially. “This isn’t just a visit is it? You’re starting a new book?”

  “Caught,” Caleb threw his hands in the air. “Knew I wouldn’t be able to come here without you sniffing out the truth. Can you fit me in?”

  “I’m sure I can make a plan for you in one of the cottages, and if we do happen to have an overlap of bookings, you can just move to the main house for a night or two. But I doubt that, tourist season is coming to an end.”

  “Great.” Caleb seemed pleased and asked pleadingly, “Same cottage, one at the end?”

  “Yes, that’ll be fine. You missed the masses by one day. We were full until this morning. Your only neighbor will be Sarah, so you don’t have to worry about toddlers and tantrums next door, like last time.”

  Sarah sat quietly listening. Caleb would be her neighbor for as long as she stayed at Oak Cottages, both of them in their own cottages, out at the point. So there was no getting away from him and the butterflies he caused. Gladys mentioned something about checking her reservations and left the two of them alone.

  Somewhere a distant bell of recognition chimed in her memory at his name. “You’re a writer? Are you C.B. Sullivan?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he answered with an easy smile.

  “I’ve read some of your novels. Mostly crime, isn’t it?” Sarah had read a few of his books. They weren’t just fiction. His novels were based on crimes solved by the FBI. The writing was exceptional, but the crimes and perpetrators sometimes highly disturbing. She always made sure to follow up with a romantic comedy.

  “That’s right. Is that a southern accent? Texas?” He redirected the subject smoothly.

  “Savannah.” As soon as the word left her mouth she wondered if he’d ever heard of the Rothmans of Savannah.

  “I’ve never been. Heard it’s a great place, why’d you leave?” Sarah looked at him like a deer caught in the head lights, and immediately he knew that was not information she was willing to share. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, my parents always complain I’m too curious.”

  Sarah was caught off guard; she should’ve known people would ask, and she needed to prepare an answer for when they did. “Don’t worry. I was travelling a bit, and when I reached Blue Hill I thought I’d stay awhile.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

  Caleb, being very intuitive about people, knew this wasn’t the whole story, but he’d leave that for another day. “I’ll get my bags from the car and head on up to the cottage.”

  “I’ll fetch the keys from the office and meet you there,” she answered; showing guests to their quarters was now part of her job description. Even if the guests made her legs feel like molten marshmallows.

  Sarah met him out front with the cottage keys. Since he knew the way, she fell into step beside him. She couldn’t place the dark writing of C.B. Sullivan with this sociable handsome man. Somehow she had always pictured a dark and disturbed writer, with nothing but his typewriter and gloomy room for company.

  “You keep looking at me funny.” Caleb stopped.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just I never imagined you like this.” Sarah indicated to the expanse of Caleb.

  “Well, thank you, Ma’am. I think that is a compliment.” Caleb raised his one eyebrow in question.

  Sarah laughed; his easy humor was a fresh change compared to the politically correct men she was used to meeting. “I wasn’t talking about your appearance,” and she pressed her lips together as in thought. “Only.”

  “You can’t leave me hanging, explain.”

  “I thought you’d be a miserable old man hunched over a typewriter with gray hair and a cigarette dangling from your lips.”

  Caleb laughed a deep baritone sound. “Give it a couple of weeks.” He started walking again. “Everything about your menta
l image is correct except for the typewriter, and the cigarettes.” He patted the laptop bag he had over his shoulder. “Why do you think I come here to write?”

  “The view?” Sarah asked as she looked towards the water.

  “That, and the fact that no one can put up with me when I’m writing. The first year I nearly bit Gladys’s head off twice for trying to change my linen. The second year she realized when I do surface for air is the only time she can descend and spring clean the cottage.”

  They reached the cottage and he set the bags down at the door, turned around to absorb the view that had always cured him of writer’s block.

  Sarah moved to go but tripped over the bag at her feet.

  Caleb caught her by the arm in time to stop the fall. “Careful now, you won’t be much help to Gladys with a broken leg.” He meant it as a joke but mid-sentence his voice turned husky as his eyes connected with hers.

  Sarah couldn’t move. Both were aware of the frisson of excitement, which suddenly heated the air. His touch was warm and firm and she could feel the power in his arms; his eyes were hypnotizing, she could get lost in those eyes.

  She swiftly pulled her arm free. “I’m fine.” She turned and walked away.

  “I’ll see you at dinner,” Caleb said to her retreating back, glad he had the same effect on her as she did on him.

  If only he knew what affect that was. He’d experienced desire, small bouts of fascination, but he’d never felt like his wind was punched out after looking into a woman’s eyes. Her eyes were beautiful, but he’d seen blue-eyed blondes before. He’d explore this feeling later; right now he needed to set up his work space.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Milan Watson is the mother of two little boys and wife to a supportive husband, who doesn’t mind doing the dishes when she finds herself lost in a story.