The Magic in her Gift

Sara’s finally getting what she wants
out of life, a husband, a new home and a family of her own. Okay,
so she doesn’t love him, she’s very fond of him, at least most of
the time. She’s not getting any younger and that biological clock
is ticking away.

Everything’s going according to plans
when a ghostly visit from her dying grandmother turns her life
upside down. She’s leaving Sara the magic to make all her dreams
come true. It’s too bad she dies before telling her granddaughter
how it works.

Sara travels to a romantic, private
island off the coast of New Guinea to settle her grandmother’s
estate and dreams of the perfect man. He’s handsome, sexy and
hopelessly in love with her. He’s also running out of time. Will
she find the magic in her gift before it’s too late?

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This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
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The Magic in Her Gift

Copyright © 2011 Missy
Martine

ISBN: 978-1-55487-838-3

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in
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Smashwords Edition

The Magic in Her Gift

By

Missy Martine

Dedication

I’d like to dedicate this
book to my best friend and husband who just happen to be the same
person. Without his support and encouragement, I would have never
started writing.

Chapter 1

“
Sara, what in the world are
you wearing?”

Cringing at the sound of her mother’s
voice, Sara rolled her eyes and glanced down at her jeans and
T-shirt. “I’m sorry, Mother. I thought this was an informal lunch
to talk about the wedding plans. I didn’t think it mattered what I
wore.”

“
You’re about to become Mrs.
Bartle Everett III. Your days of informal dressing are over and you
might as well start adjusting. Your future husband and his son are
joining us for lunch. Don’t you want to make a good impression on
them?”

“
Bart and Michael are going
to be here? Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?”

“
Really, Sara, what did you
expect? He doesn’t want you embarrassing him in front of his
friends and colleagues. It’s only natural he’d want to oversee all
the details of the wedding.”

Forty-four years old and divorced, Bart
Everett was a wealthy corporate attorney with a thriving practice
in downtown Atlanta. He needed a wife socially and professionally,
and Sara’s prominent family made her an acceptable choice. She
didn’t try to make herself believe it was a love match, she knew
better. Sighing, Sara glanced at the luncheon buffet the caterer
had set up and reached for one of the canapés.

“
Don’t you dare eat
that!”

Startled, she drew back her hand and
glanced at her mother. “Why not? I’m hungry. I didn’t get a chance
to eat breakfast this morning.”

“
Because they’re not good
for you. You have to start thinking about your weight, Sara. If you
work at it, I think you could lose a couple of dress sizes before
the wedding. I’m sure you don’t want to walk down the aisle in a
tent dress. I’ll have the cook put together a salad for you after
Bart gets here. He’ll be pleased to see you making the
effort.”

“
I’m sure he will be,” she
muttered. Bart had never been shy about telling her that she needed
to lose weight. At one hundred and sixty pounds, Sara considered
herself chubby, not fat. Her five and a half foot frame was curvy
and rounded, but not flabby. Add that to her brown eyes and long
brown hair, and it didn’t equal a beautiful woman. Sometimes she
wondered why he chose her from all the women he knew. She looked
around at her mother’s palatial home and the answer became
clear.
But why am I marrying him?
She snorted.
Because
you’re lonely and your mother wants you to.
The sound of the doorbell pulled her thoughts back to the
present.

“
Bart, how good to see
you.”

Sara watched as her mother raised her
cheek for the obligatory kiss hello. He was nearly six feet tall,
with blond hair and blue eyes and towered over her mother’s petite
frame. Following closely on Bart’s heels was his fourteen-year-old
son, Bartle Michael Everett IV. Michael was tall and thin, with a
sour face to match his disposition. He’d made it very clear to Sara
what he thought of her as a potential stepmother. Stifling a groan,
she went to greet her future family.

“
Good afternoon, darling.”
Bart Everett eyed his fiancé up and down, a look of displeasure
crossing his face and then bent to kiss her cheek. “You’re looking
very informal today.”

“
I’m sorry, Bart.” Sara
crossed her arms over her stomach, unwilling to meet his gaze. “I
ran errands for Mother this morning and didn’t have time to get
home before lunch.”
Damn, why am I
apologizing? I haven’t done anything wrong.

“
It’s all right, dear.” He
patted her shoulder in a condescending manner. “As long as you
don’t make a habit of it, there’s no harm.” He turned his attention
to her mother. “Gwendolyn, I’m sure you remember my son,
Michael.”

“
Yes, dear boy. It’s a
pleasure to see you again.”

Bart gripped his son’s shoulder and
brought the boy forward. “Michael, be polite.”

“
Thank you, Mrs. Weller.
It’s nice of you to invite me here.”

Sara snickered. “Maybe you should start
calling her Grandma. That’s what she’ll be in just a couple of
months.”

“
I, uh, I don’t,” Gwendolyn
stammered. “I don’t think that’s necessary. After all, the boy
already has grandparents.”

Sara sighed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was
only joking.”

Bart cleared his throat. “Well, ladies,
I think it’s time we had some lunch and talked about the
wedding.”

“
Of course, please come in.
I’ve had the buffet set up adjacent to the kitchen. I thought we
could fill our plates and take them out to the terrace.”

Sara followed everyone to the dining
room and watched as Bart and Michael loaded their plates with
canapés, fruits, vegetables and cheese. Before she could begin to
do the same, her mother offered her a small bowl with salad greens.
The look on her face told Sara she’d better not refuse. Grinding
her teeth, she took the salad and walked out onto the terrace. The
approving nod she received from Bart made her want to dump the dry
lettuce on his head and drive to the nearest fast food
restaurant.

“
Well, ladies?” Her future
husband smiled. “Shall we talk about the ceremony?”

Two hours later, Sara was ready to pull
her hair out. She wasn’t sure why they’d even wanted her at their
meeting. They promptly shot down every idea she suggested in favor
of whatever her mother or Bart wanted. She’d been imagining her
dream wedding for years and none of her dreams were going to come
true.

“
Thank you for the lovely
lunch, Gwendolyn. I think we’ve made good headway on the plans for
the wedding. Now, I’ll leave it in your capable hands to guide Sara
in choosing the perfect wedding gown.” He leaned over and kissed
Sara on the cheek. “Get some rest, my dear. You’re looking a bit
tired today. My mother will be calling you soon so she can discuss
the rehearsal dinner. Do try and be agreeable. She’s already got
everything planned and really only needs you to agree to
everything.”

“
Of course, Bart. I’ll do
whatever she wants. Are you coming over tonight?”

Bart glanced at his son and then took
Sara by the arm and led her into the house. “No, I think we should
maintain some distance until the wedding. You’re going to be very
busy with the preparations and you should be concentrating on your
diet and getting into shape. That way when we’re finally together
after the ceremony it’ll be like a treat, a reward for all your
hard work.”

Sara’s mouth dropped open in shock. He
wanted her to think of sex with him as a reward. “Bart, who do
you—”

“
Bart,” Gwendolyn
interrupted, “I’ll start getting together all the information you
asked for today and get everything back to you by the middle of
next week. I would appreciate you getting me the guest list from
your mother as soon as possible. You can tell her I’ll be calling
to set up a meeting to go over the seating
arrangements.”

“
That’ll be fine, Gwendolyn.
I’ll have her get that list to you in the next couple of days.”
Bart turned and looked out the patio door. “Come along, Michael. I
promised your mother I would have you home in time for
dinner.”

As Sara watched, Bart and Michael left
without saying another word to her. Fuming, she turned to her
mother. “I have to leave, too, Mother. I’ve got to set up my lesson
plans for the next month.”

“
Oh, for goodness sakes,
Sara. Wouldn’t now be a good time to end that foolishness? The
wedding is only a couple of months away and you won’t be continuing
at that ridiculous job after you’re married. If you quit now you
would have the whole month to concentrate on the wedding
preparations.”

“
I have no intention of
quitting my job after we’re married. Why would you think that?”
Sara taught kindergarten and it was the only thing in her life,
besides her painting, that she truly enjoyed.

“
Your social
responsibilities will take up a great deal of time once you become
Bart’s wife. You’ll have to be available for all types of functions
involving his career and family.”

“
I really don’t have time to
discuss this right now, Mother. I’ve things I need to get done.”
She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thanks for lunch and for all
your hard work on the wedding. I’ll talk to you later.” Without
waiting for her mother to respond, Sara headed toward the front
door, not stopping until she sat behind the steering wheel of her
car. With a wicked grin, she pulled out her cell phone and punched
in the number five on her speed dial. With any luck, she could have
a pizza delivered just about the time she arrived home.

Smiling, Sara closed her lesson plan
book and poured herself another glass of red wine. Relaxing back
into the sofa cushions, she rested her feet beside the empty pizza
box on the low coffee table and closed her eyes. A feeling of utter
peace settled over her.

“
Sarafina.”

Sara’s eyes flew open and her feet hit
the floor when she thought she heard someone say her name. Slowly
her gaze traveled around the small room, not seeing anything out of
the ordinary. She glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine and
giggled. “Guess I better lay off the good stuff if I’m gonna start
hearing things.” Coming to her feet, she picked up the bottle and
pizza box and carried them into her small kitchen.

“
Sarafina!”

The wine bottle hit the floor, the
burgundy red liquid spreading across the white linoleum. The voice
was louder now, the tone demanding and urgent. Only one person had
ever called her Sarafina. Sara slowly turned toward the living room
and then gripped the back of a kitchen chair as the blood quickly
drained from her face. “Grandmother?”