His Sleeping Beauty
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, the view from here is enough. I appreciate it just fine so don’t count on me, I mean…”
“Come on over anytime,” he said, as if she hadn’t explained she wasn’t coming at all. “The band will be tuning up around four.”
“A pool party would be wasted on me,” she said. “I don’t swim.”
“Don’t or can’t?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together in a puzzled look.
“Both. Either.” There. That ought to get him off her case. She didn’t have to explain why she didn’t swim, run, jog or ride a bike. All she wanted to do was to stop him from cutting down the tree. She didn’t want to socialize or go to any parties. She had piles of paperwork to do. Besides the research, she was also editing a pamphlet on the Missions of the Bay Area.
“No problem. Swimming is not required. In fact, most of the women I know don’t want to get their hair wet. But schmoozing is required. You do schmooze, don’t you?” He was leaning so far over the fence, she could see the laugh lines around his eyes and the stubble of beard on his chin.
“I’m not sure,” she said, taking a step backward. “In any case, I won’t be schmoozing today. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I have work to do.”
“It’s Saturday,” he said. “Don’t tell me you have to work all day.”
“Wait a minute. Don’t sound so shocked. You said entertaining was part of your work. So you’re working on Saturday, too.”
He held up his hand. “Touché,” he said.
“I love my work,” she said, and turned to go. Besides, she didn’t know how much longer she could be exposed to his bare chest without staring as if she’d never seen a half-naked man before. He was having an unsettling effect on her. It must be that she hadn’t had her coffee yet.
“That’s what your aunt said about you,” he said.
I’ll bet she did, Sarah thought. I bet she told you all about me. Aunt Mary might have even told him she needed to go to a party with a bunch of people she didn’t know so she could expand her horizons. Funny how people always seemed to think they knew what was best for you. Her parents sure did. They had hovered over her for years, giving advice and checking up on her daily even after she’d left home and had a life of her own.
Sarah loved her aunt dearly, but why couldn’t she see that she was doing just fine the way she was? She turned back to face him. “Did she also tell you I’m here to keep an eye on you?”
“Can’t keep an eye on me from over there at your house. You’d better come to the party or I’ll have to come and get you.” He grinned at her which annoyed her.
“I’ll think about it,” she said firmly, and this time she made it back to the house without a backward look. But even then, she couldn’t shake the view she’d had of his tanned torso, quizzical gaze and granite jaw.
Yes, he was some hunk of man. If her aunt had mentioned that, she hadn’t heard it. And if she had, she wouldn’t have done anything differently. She hadn’t drooled over him, she’d merely confronted him about mutilating the tree. Hopefully she could last the week without another run-in. One thing was for sure, she had no intention of going to his party. She looked forward to a long, peaceful afternoon immersed in another century.
Max stood at the fence, absently scratching his jaw, watching Sarah walk across the lawn, shoulders back, hips swaying gently under those baggy pants. It was her. Sleeping Beauty. Only not such a beauty behind those awful glasses and that oversize T-shirt. He was torn between immediately blurting out what had happened last night and keeping his mouth shut for the moment. Sooner or later he’d have to tell her. It looked like it was going to be later.
She was certainly an unusual type, even without the sleepwalking. Ms. Plain by day, a beauty by night. Definitely not his type. But then who was, these days? He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost two years, and he wasn’t looking for one.
He had firsthand knowledge of how a seemingly perfect marriage could go sour and ruin the lives of not only the couple, but everyone else around, including children, friends and extended family. His parents’ marriage had shown him that, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Anybody with his job would naturally be discouraged from getting serious about anyone. Sure there were divorce lawyers who were married. Most of them married more than once. Who needed that kind of complication in their life? Alimony payments, recriminations. Unfair settlements. Child custody battles. Not for him. He saw enough of it. He wanted no part of it in his personal life.
Which was why he avoided serious relationships. Casual affairs, good times…sure. As long as both sides were consenting and had no unrealistic expectations, why not? But after the train wrecks he’d seen in divorce court, the fights, the broken homes and broken hearts, marriage was definitely not for him.
The way it was, his time was his own. His choices were his own. No compromises. No tears. No tantrums. No sleepless nights. He was a lucky man.
Chapter Two
Max knew full well what it was like to work on Saturday and Sunday, too. He’d teased Sarah, but she’d nailed him when she accused him of working today, too. He found his job challenging and he didn’t mind working on weekends at all. He hadn’t gotten where he was by slacking off. If he wanted to stay where he was, which was on top of the game, he had to work twice as hard as the others.
He got plenty of repeat business, which was a sad commentary on marriage, but when his clients turned to him to help out with the next settlement, he was there for them. Today he’d invited everyone he’d represented in the past few years. Some were good friends, some just clients. Some were remarried, some single, and some soon to be single.
Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even know why he’d bothered to invite Sarah to his party. She wouldn’t fit in and she probably wouldn’t have a good time. So it was a good thing that she wasn’t likely to show up. It was only that her aunt had not so subtly suggested she needed to get out more. And after last night, he felt he should keep an eye on her. Also he felt bad about waking her up this morning. After a night of sleepwalking, she needed her rest.
Max wondered if Sarah could remember what happened. The walking, the gathering of nuts, or the kiss? No, of course not. She would have said something. Or given some kind of sign. A look, a frown or a smile. He couldn’t get over how different she looked. And yet there was a hint of that beautiful creature of the night in the way she held her head, the look in her eyes. It was maddening how elusive it was, there for a brief moment, and then gone again.
He hadn’t realized until this morning how the tree was shading his pool, and he wanted to get out and do something before the party. Anything but worry about the few unhappy clients who felt they deserved more than they’d gotten in their settlements, and were blaming not only their ex, but him, too. It was a gut-wrenching business, dealing with people who’d failed while participating in one of life’s most important unions, and it was sometimes depressing, but somebody had to do it and the proceeds had enabled him to enjoy the kind of lifestyle he’d once only dreamed of.
But there was pressure to keep it up. Today was the day to thank his clients with his yearly party, show off his new house, and do some general PR for himself. He really didn’t need an extra woman there. One who’d stand out from all the others. He could hear the comments now.
“Who’s the lady in the glasses? The one standing over there by herself.”
“Doesn’t look like one of Max’s clients.”
“Or one of his girlfriends.”
“Where’d she come from?”
They hadn’t seen her in the middle of the night. They had no idea how she looked in a sheer nightgown. He felt his pulse kick up a notch just thinking about it. He was sorry he’d invited her, because he definitely didn’t want her at his party. Oh, well, she probably wouldn’t come. So why worry?
His cell phone rang and he took it out of his back pocket. It was the caterer. They’d be setting up at three and were checking on the facilities at his house. Large oven, microwave, freezer space? Yes, yes and yes.
But when they came that afternoon in their white van with Countryside Catering painted on the side, they said they’d understood he had a double oven. He looked around the spotless, unused kitchen and wondered if he’d told them he had. Since he’d moved in a month ago, he really hadn’t used the kitchen and he probably never would. He usually ate out or ordered in, so the kitchen was terra incognito.
While some of the crew set up tables on the spacious patio and started a barbecue going behind the house, others took over the kitchen, mixing salads, arranging appetizer puffs on baking sheets. Max wandered outside and looked across the fence. No sign of his neighbor. She was probably inside buried under a pile of history books. It was better that way. She wouldn’t fit in with the group. He knew it and she probably knew it, too.
When he first saw her this morning he realized she was exactly what he’d expected from her aunt’s description. And the complete opposite of the exotic creature of last night. Then the longer he stood there the more he was aware of her dual personality and changeable looks. He couldn’t help wondering if she’d walk every night. Did he hope she’d wander in a see-through nightgown every night? Of course not. Now that he knew who she was. But what if she went somewhere else in her sheer nightgown? Down the street? Out into the street? That was a scary thought. He’d have to go after her. And he had to tell her. Or did she already know?
He also wondered if he was exactly what she’d expected from him. Or hadn’t her aunt bothered to say anything about him except to warn her about the tree? It didn’t matter. If he laid off the chain saw he wouldn’t see her again, unless she walked at night or…No, he was convinced she wouldn’t come to the party. Why should she? She didn’t know anyone. She didn’t even know him. Not as well as he knew her.
One of the caterers came out to the backyard, wiping her hands on her white apron.
“Mr. Monroe, it’s almost four and we have to have another oven.”
“Sorry about that, but that’s all I’ve got.”
She glanced across the fence. “What about using your neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins’ oven? We catered a party there a little while back. Nice lady. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“No, she wouldn’t, but she’s not home.” Too bad he’d gotten off on the wrong foot with Ms. History Buff by waking her up this morning and trying to reconcile her nocturnal self with her daytime persona, and he sure didn’t make up for it by inviting her to his party. She’d made that clear. It was probably the last place she’d want to be this afternoon. But why not? Would it hurt her to put in an appearance? Lots of people went to parties where they didn’t know anyone. That was the point. You went to meet new people. Why did he care? He didn’t. Well, maybe just a little. Okay, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see how she’d look dressed for a party. Somewhere between her sleepwalker nightgown and her baggy shorts, he imagined.
Why shouldn’t she drop in, say hello, look around, and slip away if she was bored? It was a great day, there’d be fabulous food—if he could borrow her oven—and some attractive people there, though given her scholarly interests, she might find some of them on the shallow side.
“She’s got someone house-sitting,” he said. “I’ll go ask her.” She could always say no.
In answer to his knocking, she came to the back door, this time wearing a pair of elastic-waist shorts and the same T-shirt. Clearly she was not in a party mood. She was carrying a large book in one hand, no big surprise, and looking owlish behind those glasses.
“Yes?” she said disdainfully, as if he was a door-to-door salesman or someone handing out religious pamphlets.
“Hi. Remember me, your next-door neighbor?” he said cheerfully. He didn’t wait for an answer. “I hate to bother you, but it’s about my party, I think I mentioned I was having a party? Well, the caterers need an extra oven. It wouldn’t take long, but they’re baking these…I’m not sure what they are, but they’d sure appreciate it if they could use your oven for a little while. Unless you’re using it,” he added.
“No, I’m not. I guess it would be all right,” she said doubtfully.
“That’s great. I’ll send them over. Thanks.” He reached out and shook her hand, the one that wasn’t clutching the book to her chest. “Your hands are cold,” he said. “You should come outside in the sun.”
“I can’t, I’m…”
“Working, I know, but you can’t stay inside on a day like this. It’s a crime against nature. I still expect you to drop in at the party. You can spare a few minutes, half hour at least, can’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said. In this case, that “maybe” sure sounded like a no.
He shrugged and told himself to forget it. Forget her. Hadn’t she made it perfectly clear she did not want any part of his party?
An hour later, the hot appetizers were sizzling, thanks to Sarah’s oven. The three-piece band was playing mariachi music and the bartender was making margaritas. His guests were tanned and reeking of ambition and money. Many were desperately seeking someone new to share their lives with, despite their past failures, but they all seemed to be having a good time. Sometimes Max worried about that desperation he saw on their faces.
He almost wanted to say, Slow down, take it easy. Give it a rest. There are worse things than being alone. Being single has its advantages. And if you do get married again, don’t rush into anything.
But would they listen to him, their divorce lawyer? What did he know about wedded bliss? He knew plenty about the pain of divorce. Their divorces. Was he such a sterling example of single happiness? He thought so. They probably didn’t.
He worked his way through the crowd, keeping his counsel to himself, making small talk and occasionally casting a glance across the fence. Wondering if the music penetrated the walls of her house or if she’d tuned everything out to concentrate.
He told himself to forget about her. Sure, she looked like something out of a fairy tale in the middle of the night. But by day, she was prickly and studious. She wasn’t his type and she wasn’t his responsibility. She wasn’t even his neighbor. He would have had better luck inviting her outgoing and sociable aunt. He didn’t mind escorting the niece back to bed if she came onto his property in the middle of the night, but a daytime party was a different matter.
He knew she really didn’t want to come, and he also knew if she did, she’d feel out of place. He’d done his duty last night and today he’d invited her over. Her aunt hinted she needed a social life, but he couldn’t force it on her. What did her aunt expect, that he’d drag her niece out of her house, force her to drink some tequila and do a Mexican hat dance? If she were here, her aunt would say, as any normal person would, “Good job, Max. The ball is in her court now. You’ve done everything you could and more. Don’t worry about her.”
He wasn’t worried about her. He’d almost forgotten about her. But when Sarah finally appeared, he almost dropped his drink, he was so surprised. He set his glass down, waved and beckoned to her, afraid she’d change her mind when she saw the kind of people who were there. He shook his head slightly at the sight of her in a buttoned-up-to the neck, simple blue dress and low-heeled shoes. She always surprised him.
She couldn’t be any more different from the rest of the crowd. She looked like she was on her way to the office. Or to an afternoon tea. She should have just kept on her shorts and T-shirt. She would have fit in better. As it was, she stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. The other women were wearing strapless stretch tops with bare midriffs showing above short shorts or cropped pants and tiny T-shirts whether they had the figure for it or not.
She looked so apprehensive she might have been facing the lion’s den. And when she saw that he’d seen her, she had a trapped look in her eyes that said she knew she couldn’t escape. He couldn’t remember when he’d had that effect on a woman before. Why had she taken an instant dislike to him?
Did she wake up last night and realize what had happened? If she did, and she knew what had happened, she wasn’t letting on, and she was a good actress. Or was it just the tree trimming that had turned her off? Had her aunt said something about him to discourage her? He’d like to know what it was.
He opened the gate in the fence between their houses and called to her. She forced a smile.
“I have to thank you for the use of your oven. I don’t know what we would have done without it.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Come on in,” he said. “They won’t bite.”
“These are your friends?” she asked, stepping onto his patio. He caught a whiff of some floral fragrance. So she cared enough to put some perfume on. And she’d brushed her brown hair so that it hung straight and shiny to her shoulders. She wasn’t even wearing her glasses. She resembled the mysterious Sleeping Beauty a little more than she had this morning. He didn’t know her at all, but he sensed that coming to a party with a lot of strangers was a big effort for her. Her aunt would be pleased. Too bad she couldn’t have a good time while she was at it.
“Mostly business acquaintances.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a divorce lawyer.”
“How sad. So everyone here is divorced?”
“Some have remarried since I represented them.”
She looked around the patio. “It must be depressing, dealing in human misery.”
He bristled at the remark because there was a grain of truth in it. But he was proud of his success. “I don’t think of it that way,” he said evenly. He personally didn’t wreck anyone’s home or break up anyone’s marriage. He deliberately stayed away from any commitment. He did his best for his clients and he didn’t like her thinking he took advantage of other people’s misery. “The way I look at it, I’m the one who gets them out of their misery. Have you every been married?”
She shook her head. “Have you?”
“No.”
“I can see why.”
“Because of my thinning hair, my bloodshot eyes, my bowed legs?” he teased.
She blushed and let her gaze slide from his face then down to his Top-Siders, as if she was trying to decide what really had prevented him for getting married. “No, I mean you must get discouraged dealing with divorces all day. No wonder you haven’t taken the plunge yourself. All those bitter people out there. If I were you, I’d avoid marriage also.”
“Why have you?” he asked.
“I…I…I haven’t met the right person,” she said, shifting her gaze to the guests.
“Tell me,” he said, “do these people look bitter to you?” They might be bitter, but he thought they put up a pretty good front.
People were laughing, men were tossing a beach ball back and forth across the pool, a few women were dangling their legs in the shallow end of the pool, while others were tossing down exotic drinks, and some couples were even nuzzling on colorful chaise lounges.
“I guess not. They actually look pretty happy. I’m sure that’s thanks to you. You got them out of a bad situation into something better.”
“That’s how I look at it, otherwise…”
She looked at him as if waiting expectantly for him to finish his sentence. As if she really wanted to know. Otherwise, what would he do? He was a divorce lawyer, one of the best. He was in demand. And he would be as long as he did his job and got his clients large settlements. What would he do if he didn’t think he’d improved his clients’ situation? He met her gaze, looked into her clear blue eyes and answered her as firmly as he could. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night,” he said.
She looked away and a tiny frown line appeared between her fine eyebrows. When he mentioned sleep, did it trigger some memory of last night? Did she wonder if she’d had an episode? Did she remember anything?
“Well,” she said, brushing her hands together as if to dismiss any worries, either his or hers. “Don’t let me keep you from your schmoozing.”
When she said that, he realized he’d been talking to her exclusively for a long time and hadn’t noticed what was going on behind him at the party. Not that anyone else had missed him. Just a glance told him that his guests were milling and mixing and generally amusing themselves. They didn’t even miss him.
“I’d better get back to the guests. Come on, let me introduce you…”
“I can introduce myself.”
He shot her a quick look. “Okay.” But he thought it wasn’t likely she’d go up to strangers. More likely she’d stand around and sneak back to her house when he wasn’t looking.
Before he could make the rounds, his cell phone rang and he went inside to give directions to someone who couldn’t find the house. He stood by the open French doors looking out at the party scene, his eyes glued to Sarah. She was standing at the edge of the pool, talking to an old college buddy of his whose divorce had been finalized last month.
He had to say, in her dress and pale skin, she stood out like an English rose in the middle of a tropical garden. Of all the women there, she was refreshingly different. Frisbees sailed through the air, couples danced on the patio to the live music and a beach ball bounced off the diving board and into the deep end.
Suddenly there was a scream and a splash and he went running out to the pool. There was Sarah flailing about in the deep end, her head sinking under the water, her hair trailing behind her.
“Call 911,” he yelled. Then Max jumped into the water to save her.
Chapter Three
They say your whole life passes in front of you when you think you’re going to die, but all Sarah could think of as the water closed over her head and she began sinking to the bottom of the pool, was that she should have worn nicer underwear, instead of those white cotton granny underpants and sports bra. Which was stupid, because the coroner wasn’t going to notice, but the man next door might.
And then she thought of her parents, who’d say, What were you doing even close to a swimming pool! You know what could happen.
Then everything went black.
The next thing she knew she was lifted out of the water and propped up on cool blue tiles. She gasped for breath, coughing and spitting out water. She reached for her inhalator, but it wasn’t there. She’d left it at home. Max was leaning towards her, his face blurred, his eyebrows drawn together.
People were shouting.
“What happened?”
“Who is she?”
“Where are the paramedics?”
“Is she alive?”
“Does anyone know CPR?”
“Give her mouth-to-mouth.”
Her heart pounded. Until she realized it wasn’t an asthma attack. Even though she was choking and scared, she had enough presence of mind to know she didn’t need an inhalator and resuscitation wasn’t necessary. All she needed was a few minutes to expel the water out of her lungs and she’d be fine. She was proud of herself. She didn’t panic.
Someone patted her on the back and she coughed water into Max’s face. He didn’t flinch. Blurry-eyed, she looked around at a dozen faces staring down at her, who were all looking scared, and some downright terrified. She wished she could reassure them, but she couldn’t speak. Even more she wanted to sink down into oblivion. She wished she’d never come to this party. She hated being the center of attention. Memories of schoolmates staring at her during an asthma attack, of being sent to the school nurse came flooding back. She was conscious of her dress plastered to her body, her hair hanging in wet strands. The humiliation was almost worse than drowning.
“What happened?” she gasped.
“You got knocked into the pool,” a man’s voice came from somewhere behind her. “Sorry about that. I didn’t see you standing there when I jumped in. How are you?”