Rooms - James L. Rubart [32]
He fished a twig out of grass and tossed it toward the ocean. “If you’ve been here five years, you must know everyone.”
“The locals still say I’m new in town, but they’re friendly, and yeah, I know most of them.” She pulled on the silver loop in her ear and smiled.
“Maybe you could introduce me around. Love to find out about the land my house is built on. Its history.”
“House?”
“I inherited a home just south of Arcadia Beach State Park.”
“There are six or seven homes along that stretch. Could you add some vagueness to your description?” She winked.
“It’s on the ocean. Does that help?”
“Oh, that one. Of course!” Sarah laughed.
“It’s kinda hard to miss. About nine thousand square feet.”
“Wow, that’s big. I’m not sure I know it.”
He couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. She was bright and would know if a nine-thousand-square-foot home was built in a small town like Cannon Beach.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Micah chuckled. “It’s probably the biggest home from Astoria to Tillamook. And I mean right on the beach.”
“Does that make it tough when the tide comes in?”
“Are you always that literal?”
A grin broke out on Sarah’s face, and Micah matched it with one of his own.
“So how’d it wind up with you?”
She didn’t say this with envy or curiosity or even judgment. He suspected the answer wouldn’t matter to her either way. He liked that. “Long story.”
“I’d like to hear it sometime.”
It wasn’t a come-on. He knew it and she knew he knew it. Another friend in Cannon Beach. Hmm. Could be a good thing. As long as the conversations avoided God and dads.
“How ’bout dinner on Tuesday? No charge for a tour of the house or the story.”
“Tuesday nights I have a standing date with twenty-three men and women who aren’t as mobile as they once were.”
“Old folks home?”
“Mature folks home. I read to them, laugh with them.” She paused. “Sometimes cry. It’s cliché to say, I know, but I get more out of it than they do.”
Micah wondered if he should ask for another night, but Sarah saved him the trouble.
“Thursday night is open, if your invitation is still on the table.”
Her dark chocolate-colored eyes twinkled at him, and he assured her it was.
As he rode home, he thought about Julie. Was there any hope for them? Did she care anymore? Did he?
And what about this Sarah girl? He wasn’t ready for another relationship. Micah shifted his bike into a higher gear and bore down on the pedals.
What was he worried about? It was just one dinner.
CHAPTER 13
Thursday Micah woke early. He wanted the dinner to be perfect and gave himself the whole day to prepare. By the time the sun started its descent toward the sea, he was ready to entertain the mysterious Sarah Sabin.
At 5:57 p.m. the doorbell echoed through the house like a wind chime. Micah glanced in the mirror, smoothed his hair with both hands, clipped toward the door, and opened it.
“Hi, Micah.” Sarah smiled.
Wow. Beautiful. Remember, pal, you’re not 100 percent sure things between you and Julie are over. Just friends with Sarah, okay? The hint of her perfume made him repeat the thought.
“Hi, Sarah.” He tried not to stare. Radiant.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry.”
After Sarah stepped inside, she drifted toward the picture windows. “Wow. That’s an amazing view.” She gazed slowly around the great room. “I love this place already. You inherited it from your uncle?”
“Great-uncle.”
He took her coat and went back to the entryway closet to hang it up. He’d never opened it. The pegs by the front door had worked fine. His eyes narrowed. A stack of letters sat on the shelf, up against the right edge of the closet wall. He pulled them down. They were tied together with twine, and the edges of the envelopes went from yellow at the top to slightly faded on the bottom. The return name and address on the top envelope were Archie’s, but the letter was mailed to a Christopher Hale. In smaller print at the bottom was “Attention: Micah Taylor.”
His head spun. He riffled through the first five or six envelopes. Same mailing