Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [77]
No sooner had she walked in than she was surrounded by her staff. Everyone was talking at once. Most of her life, Sarah had maintained a distance from people, but none of that reserve was in evidence this afternoon. She felt free and alive and very much in love with her husband.
Jennifer proudly showed her the quilts in progress. Sarah examined each one, amazed at their beauty and the talent of her staff. She couldn’t have done a better job herself and said so.
Dennis stood at her side, his arm about her waist. He, too, appeared impressed with the work that had been done in Sarah’s absence.
The doorbell above the shop chimed and Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see Calla. Her daughter looked upset and near panic.
“Jennifer,” Calla cried, “does anyone know where my mother—” She stopped talking when she saw Sarah.
“I’m here,” Sarah said and stretched out her arm to her daughter.
Calla hesitantly advanced toward her. “I stopped at the house after school and you weren’t there. I…I didn’t know what to think.”
“I’m fine,” Sarah told her, struggling to hold back tears. This was the first sign she’d seen of Calla’s love in a very long while. “I should’ve let you know I had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”
“I’d better get back to work,” Dennis said, and squeezed her hand, aware of Calla’s feelings toward him. Whenever possible, he tried to give her plenty of breathing space.
“You’ll get a ride home?” he asked. “Lie down for a couple of hours?”
Sarah assured him she would, although at the moment she felt like celebrating, not resting.
“I…I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Calla said, sounding self-conscious. She backed away from her mother as though she’d suddenly remembered their estrangement.
“You didn’t. How about one of Hassie’s sodas?” Sarah asked, and then for incentive, she added, “Just you and me. I’ll tell you what the doctor had to say.”
Calla shrugged as if to imply that she didn’t have anything better to do.
“Great.” Sarah smiled at Jennifer, then walked over to Hassie’s with her daughter.
Unfortunately Hassie was gone for the afternoon, but Leta Betts put together a darn good soda herself. She served them, then hurried to help a customer who seemed bewildered by the different kinds of film on display.
More like longtime friends than mother and daughter, Sarah and Calla sat on the padded stools and sipped their sodas and chatted. “The baby’s going to be all right?” Calla asked.
“So far, so good.”
Calla’s lips formed a smile. “What’s it like being pregnant?” she asked.
“Actually, it’s pretty incredible.”
“Do you really feel the baby kick?”
“All the time.”
Calla’s questions revealed thought and sensitivity. Apparently she’d done quite a bit of thinking about this baby. That pleased Sarah. In the last months, Calla had revealed no indication of jealousy or sibling resentment.
Then, in a carefully casual voice, Calla said, “Dad phoned the other day.”
Involuntarily, Sarah tensed. If Willie had gotten hold of Calla it could be for only one reason. He wanted something. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what it was, either. He was after Calla’s hard-earned paycheck.
“Do I dare ask why he called?”
“He said he needs money. A loan.”
“You didn’t give it to him, did you?” It wasn’t any of Sarah’s business, but she’d blurted out the question before she could think better of it.
“Mother, please,” Calla returned, rolling her eyes. She held on to the straw with one hand and the glass with the other. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
So Willie didn’t get a dime. “Good for you.”
Calla didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, then glanced in Sarah’s direction, her eyes sober. “It wasn’t easy, you know?”
Sarah did know. Calla was Willie’s daughter and any daughter sought her father’s approval, even if that father was as inadequate as Willie. Refusing him money must have been difficult.
“He asked me to get it from you,” she added. “He seems to think you’d give it to me if I asked.”
Willie was right;