Sara's Song (43 page)
Authors: Fern Michaels
“Of course I want to know, but I don't want him to know I want to know. Look where they put him. He's going to be looking straight at me all during lunch. I don't think he recognizes me.”
Nellie's voice was dry and droll when she said, “
I
didn't recognize you.”
I
didn't recognize you.”
“He's staring at me. I don't think he knows it's me. God, I feel giddy. What should I do?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth.
“Smile. Wave. You know, do that thing with one finger. Invite him over. I should thank him for that very generous check.”
Sara took a deep breath. She lifted her index finger and wiggled it. She managed to work at a sickly smile at the same time. He mouthed her name. Sara nodded. He was off his seat and standing at their table before she could blink.
In a jittery-sounding voice, Sara introduced him to Nellie, who invited him to join them for lunch. He accepted. Nellie kicked her ankle under the table.
“It's been a long time. Almost a year. How are you?”
“Good. I'm here on business. I'll be leaving on Monday.”
“How is, ah ... how is Jack?”
“Jack's good. Real good. Fit. He's taking life real serious these days. He keeps busy. Fit. Did I say that? He exercises a lot. You know, to keep fit.”
“Is he here in LA?”
“Here in LA? Well, yes, as a matter of fact he is. Business. There's always business to take care of. How about you? My cleaning lady forwarded your note. I'm sorry we missed you.”
“I was . . . ah ... passing through. Actually, it was out of my way, but I had all the time in the world. I just thought . . . it would be nice. You did get the song, didn't you?”
“Yes. It was nice of you to return it. Did you go back to that little town?”
“Yes. I stayed for seven months. I could never live there again. You can't go home again.”
“I've heard that. Did you go to New York?”
“That didn't work either. I'm here now.”
“At loose ends?”
“Yes and no. I have . . . plans.”
“I see. Will you be here long? If you are, why don't you come up to the house. I'm sure Jack would like to see you. He would really love to see you. He's ah . . . making changes in his life. What that means is he's going public. You might want to tune in on Tuesday evening. Eight o'clock.”
“That's very interesting. What made him decide to do it?”
Adam closed the menu. “Look, this is all bullshit.”
“Well, good for you, Mr. Lord,” Nellie piped up. “I was just going to say the same thing. Let's cut to the chase here. My friend has been waiting for your brother to make a move in her direction. As you can see, this is not the same old Sara Killian we all used to know. Now, why is your brother dragging his feet? It's obvious to me the two of them could use some help.”
Adam grinned. “He's been waiting for Sara to make a move. He's not the same old Dallas either. I'm not sure I like these new improved models. He's in love with you, Sara. He thought because of his . . . problem, you could never be interested in someone like him. You being a doctor and all.”
“My friend here thought the same thing but in reverse,” Nellie chirped. “My friend has disavowed medicine as her life's work. She's going into the pottery business. What's your brother got up his sleeve?”
“He said he was going to Montana. He's thinking of going to college. I think you should say something, Sara.”
“Listen, Adam, I can handle my own affairs. I don't think Dallas will appreciate your . . interfering.” She was so lightheaded she was seeing two of him. Maybe it was the glass of wine she'd gulped.
“We sat in your driveway the other night. For an hour,” Nellie chirped again.
“Nellie, for God's sake!”
“Sara, you are forty years old. Mr. Lord Jr. is almost forty years old. You two need to get it together. You can't play mind games with one another, and you need to stop acting like teenagers. You told me you were in love with him. Mr. Lord says his brother is in love with you. What is our problem here?”
“Nellie, don't say any more. She's getting on in years, Adam, don't pay attention to anything she says. He should have stopped me before I got on that plane you chartered for me. Did he do that? No, he did not. I wasn't that hard to find. A thank-you note for the song would have been nice. Did I get that? No, I did not. I rest my case.” She downed the second glass of wine in two gulps.
Adam looked at Nellie. Nellie looked at Adam. “I think I'm going to skip lunch,” Adam said. “Thanks for inviting me to join you. Make sure you tune in on Tuesday. Dallas will be leaving for Montana right after the broadcast. They're doing it live from Dallas's house. That's in case you have the urge to sit in the driveway again.”
“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Sara snapped.
Adam leaned across the table. “No, Sara, I'm not. It just seems very foolish to me that the two of you wasted so much time and are in danger of losing one another all over again. I've watched Dallas this past year. He has worked so hard, accomplished so much. He's ready to go prime time to bare his soul. He's not doing it for himself or for me. We made our peace. He's doing it for you, Sara. Then he's going to wait just long enough to see what you do. An hour, two at the most, and then he's gone. You think about that for the next few days. Have a nice lunch, ladies, on me.” He tossed some bills on the table before he walked away.
“If you cry, Sara, all that gunk on your face is going to run, and you'll look like a ghoul. The man is right. More wine?”
Sara held out her glass. She felt miserable and wondered if she looked the same way. In between bites of the tasty crabmeat salad, she talked about Dallas. “I can't believe he's going public. Why would he do that with his whole life ahead of him? He could rock into the twenty-first century. Look at Mick Jagger. He's going to be prancing around until his legs give out. Performers like Dallas and Mick never retire. Dallas is thinking about going to college. That blew my mind.” Her monologue continued until she wound down with, “Prime-time television means the world is going to see and hear everything. Everyone will be passing judgment. Forget damage control.”
Nellie placed her knife and fork across her dinner plate. She leaned across the table, her gaze locked on Sara. “I guess he isn't the wishy-washy person you thought he was. He's taking responsibility for what he did, and he's going to let the chips fall where they fall. You were always afraid to do that, Sara. I'd say Dallas has guts. Did you see how proud his brother looked? People are very forgiving of their idols. Time will make everything okay. You're on the same road, Sara. I hope you aren't judging or condemning.”
“No. I just don't understand how he can walk away from all that . . . what's the word I'm looking for? Stardom? Adulation? Money? Probably all of the above.”
“Didn't you just do the same thing? God in heaven, Sara, you're a doctor. You're giving up all those years of sacrifice and schooling. You're going to ride into the sunset and what was it you said you were going to do? Make pottery? What's the difference? I wonder what the odds would be in Vegas of two people like you and Dallas doing something like this and then getting together again? One in a million, two million? The big question is, what are you going to do now?”
“Do?”
“Yes. What are you going to do? Adam said Dallas wasn't going to hang around after the broadcast. You talk a good game, but are you going to follow through? For some reason I don't think you're going to get up to bat again if you flub this up.”
Sara gulped at the rest of her wine. Had she had three glasses or four? “You know, Nellie, a girl likes to hear the words firsthand. Just because Adam said what he said doesn't mean it's so. For all I know, he just wants to be rid of him.”
“That's a crock, and you know it. What are you going to do?”
“I'm going home. I think I'll take a taxi. Neither one of us should be driving. Whoa, that wine was strong,” Sara said when she stood up. She tugged at the skinny dress and almost lost her balance.
A voice behind her said, “Sara, is that you? Nellie, it's nice to see you again. How's life in the private sector?”
“Dr. Granger. Drinking your lunch again,” Nellie snapped as the tipsy doctor ogled Sara.
“Your colleague looks like she had a little too much herself.”
“Stuff it,” Nellie snapped again.
Sara tried to focus on the handsome doctor who was now standing in front of her. “Brian, I am going to report you to the hospital. You're drunk. Do you know how I know you're drunk? You look like I feel. The only difference is I'm going home. In a taxi because I'm not fit to drive. You're going back to the hospital to take care of patients. I can do what I said. Nellie is my witness. I resigned from the medical profession. I'm going to be making pottery from now on. I'm also going to call the police and tell them you're going to be driving that Mercedes-Benz while under the influence. They might even give me a reward for turning you in. You're a disgrace to the medical profession.”
“You do that. You just go ahead and do that,” Brian Granger blustered.
“Don't think I won't. Where's my cell phone, Nellie? Damn, I think it's still on the bed with my black bag. Maybe it's in the bag. Maybe I lost it. Oh, who cares. I'll call when I get home.”
“People are staring, Sara,” Nellie hissed. “Everyone who is anyone eats here. There's a man with a camera pointing at us.”
“Where?” Sara demanded. “Does he have a good shot of us?”
“The best,” Nellie retorted.
Sara pulled her arm back and let go with a rock-hard punch that almost dislocated her shoulder. Brian Granger fell to the floor.
“He's out cold, Sara. This will make the six o'clock news and the late edition,” Nellie gasped. “I've wanted to do that for the last ten years. Thank you, Sara.”
“It was my pleasure. Did they get my good side.”
“Front and back. By back I mean that skimpy dress that hiked up all the way to your bra strap.”
Sara dusted her hands. “No kidding. Should I make a comment? You know, so they get the story straight?”
“Why the hell not,” Nellie muttered. “On second thought, let's quit while we're ahead.” She yanked Sara's arm to drag her out of the restaurant.
Outside the well-known eatery, Sara tugged at the skimpy dress. To the parking attendant she said, “Get us a cab, please.”
“Certainly, Dr. Killian.”
“I'm not a doctor anymore, young man. I quit.”
“She retired,” Nellie said as she pushed Sara into the backseat of the cab.
“Spell your last name,” the reporter who snapped their picture called out.
“Why should I? No. Nellie, tell him how to spell Brian Granger's name.”
“Burn rubber, driver,” Nellie barked.
“I'm probably going to get sick,” Sara said.
“Not in my cab you aren't,” the driver said.
“Can I get sick if I promise to give you a Dallas Lord original song?”
“No!”
“Shit!” Sara said.
Nellie buried her face in her plump shoulder to stifle her laughter.
Sara slept through the six o'clock news. Not so the Lord brothers and Tom Silk, who were dining on beef stew and crusty French bread when the evening anchor, his voice full of laughter, announced the day's lighter moment at a well-known eatery.
Adam's jaw dropped. Dallas pushed his glasses tighter on the bridge of his nose. Tom Silk said, “Holy shit!”
“That's Sara,” Dallas said.
“So it is,” Adam drawled.
“I never would have thought the doctor was a brawler,” Tom said.
“That's Sara,” Dallas said again.
“Good legs. Snazzy dress, what there is of it,” Tom said.
“Which just goes to show you should never judge a book by its cover,” Adam said as he bit into a chunk of bread.
“That's a cliché. You need to be more original, Adam. Sara's here in LA. No wonder I couldn't find her. Did I hear that guy right when he said she was going to make pottery?” Dallas asked.
“I heard that,” Adam guffawed.
“How do you not want to be a doctor anymore?”
“How do you not want to be a rock star anymore? I guess if you want to know the answer to that question, you'll have to ask Sara?”
“It's not the same thing,” Dallas said.
“The hell it isn't. What makes her any different from you? You're alike in so many ways. That's probably what drew you together in the first place. This is really good stew,” Adam said as he filled his plate for the third time.
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