Chapter 26
By the time Sarah heard a buzz on her intercom, she was packing away the last of the breakfast dishes. He’s here. She took a deep breath then yelled out to her brother, “Mark, time to go.”
She hurried toward the coffee table to straighten the pens, manuscript copy, and notepad she’d placed there earlier. Movement behind her made her peek around.
Mark smirked at her, “Nervous?”
She shook her head and lied, “Nope.”
He released a mocking laugh, “Yeah right. That’s the fourth time you’ve adjusted those.”
She poked her tongue out, making him laugh again.
“You want me to answer it?”
She shook her head, “I should be fine.”
Another lie. The expression on Mark’s face told her he’d picked up on that too. They walked in silence to the front door.
Sarah pressed the intercom button on the wall, “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Charles.”
“I’ll buzz you in.”
A few minutes later, footsteps came to a halt opposite her front door. She inhaled, wiped the sweat she knew was on her palms against her jeans then pulled a forced relaxed smile onto her face. What was there to be nervous about? She was only going to be alone with a brilliant man whom she just so happened to find physically attractive . . .
She made herself forget that as she opened the door. In front of her was a clean-shaven, though still weary-looking Charles Morgan. The black briefcase he held in his left hand would have seemed formal, were it not for the light blue jeans and clean white shirt he wore.
He offered the familiar half-smile when he saw her, “Hi.”
She smiled back, “Hi.”
Beside her, Mark stretched his hand toward Charles, “We haven’t officially met. I’m Mark.”
Charles’s smile disappeared when he accepted Mark’s hand, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
They descended into silence. The feeling that Charles was sizing up Mark came over Sarah. It became a little tense. Was she the only one feeling it?
To break the mood, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed her brother on the cheek, “See you later.”
When Mark stepped across the threshold and moved past Charles, he paused and caught Sarah’s gaze. He shook his hand in a “hot” gesture and mouthed the word, “McDreamy.” She had to use everything she had to stop herself from laughing. A smug look appeared on her brother’s face before he swaggered away, triumphant.
***
What was he doing there? He should’ve known he’d be intruding. It was Saturday morning for goodness sake.
Charles cleared his throat, “I’m sorry to put you on the spot. I can leave if this is a bad time?”
Sarah waved her hand, “It’s not. Please, come in.”
As Sarah sidestepped so he had room to enter, he caught a vague floral scent from her hair. Was it jasmine? He heard the door close. When she moved past, she brushed him with her body. The action sent a pleasant prickle down his arm.
Her face crinkled as she stepped away, “Oh, I’m sorry. Tight space.”
“It’s okay.”
She flashed an uncertain smile then indicated at the sofa, “Take a seat.”
“Thank you.”
He sank into it and placed his briefcase on the coffee table in front of him.
“Would you like some tea before we start?”
He glanced up, “You have tea?”
Most American’s didn’t keep it lying about their homes.
“Ah . . .” Her hand came up to her neck in an awkward gesture. “I may have bought some after my visit the other day.”
He grinned, “Thank you. I’d love a cup.”
“Milk and two sugars, right?”
He knew his face registered shock when he replied, “Yes. How did you know that?”
Sarah lowered her gaze and stammered an explanation, “Uh, I remember from when Joan made it for you.”
Good memory.
“Obviously you enjoyed your first British tea drinking experience since you went and bought some?”
She looked up at the same time as her lips curled into a full, open-mouthed, enchanting smile. “I did actually. The tea had a good balance of caffeine to sugar, and since I thrive on both of those highs when I’m writing, it was perfect.”
It was a clear attempt at humor. He laughed, happy to oblige. Her smile slipped a little. She stared at him as if she was trying to figure out a puzzle.
She turned, “I’ll be back.”
***
Was that the first time she’d heard him laugh? It made him look so young and relaxed. Not the stuffy, serious, rude man she’d been trying to convince herself that he was. She frowned. His behavior baffled her the more she got to know him. Who was Charles Morgan? She let the question hang unanswered as she switched on one of the stove’s burners, picked up the stove top kettle, and filled it with water.
From the living room, Charles said, “Your husband didn’t have to leave.”
Sarah almost dropped the kettle. She’d forgotten she hadn’t corrected him on that misinformation yet. “Actually, Mark’s my big brother. I’m not married.”
She pulled a face to herself. Geez, Sarah. She sounded nervous.
“Oh, right.”
She thought she detected a smile in the tone. Was he pleased she didn’t have a husband . . . and was single? The possibility unleashed butterflies in her stomach. Judging from that reaction, she was pleased that he was pleased. Oh no. This was a complication she didn’t need. She focused back on her task, moving the kettle to the pre-heated burner on the stove.
A short time later, she was walking to the living room with a cup and saucer in each hand. She handed Charles one of them.
He looked up and took it, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He placed the hot tea on the coffee table then reached for his briefcase. He clicked it open as she settled into the free space beside him on the sofa. She was careful to leave a gap between them. That way she wouldn’t risk having electricity sizzle up her arm, the way it had when she’d brushed past him earlier at the front door. She shut off the memory by blowing over the top of her teacup. From the corner of her eye, she watched him pull out a variety of items: notepad, pens, laptop, what she assumed to be her bulldog clipped manuscript, and two books––a dictionary and thesaurus.
After clicking the briefcase closed, he moved it to the floor at his feet. Next, he flipped through her manuscript then stopped at a page she could see with yellow highlighted markings. All of those were for her? She thought he and Joan liked her manuscript? There were so many notes already, and now highlights. She felt her hand start to shake as well-known self-doubt crept in. So she wouldn’t spill any tea, she lowered it to the coffee table.
Confidence, Sarah.
Her mentor’s words came unbidden. She repeated the words to herself and felt her pulse relax back to normal.
The shake was gone from her hands by the time Charles focused on her and said, “See this here?”
She looked at the place he was pointing at on her manuscript and nodded, “Yes.”
“It’s the third time in the same chapter where you’ve described a sign that the heroine has seen.”
She shrugged, “Okay?”
“People tend to skim signs. The only time they read them in detail is if they’re searching for particular information on it. So, keep the description simple, unless the character is searching for something specific.”
She wasn’t convinced, but picked up one of her prearranged pens from the coffee table and scribbled a note on the pad. He was the expert, wasn’t he? When she looked up, she saw him scanning the notepad she recognized as Joan’s. A frown formed on his face––one that was deeper than was normal for him.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh.” He flashed her a flustered look. “Yes, everything’s fine.”
He tilted the notepad from her view and wrote something on it.
Hmm. She felt her brow crease. Something was wrong, but she sensed he would get defensive if she pushed the point.
He looked up and said, “Okay, the next item on the list is your plot. There was one minor subplot you didn’t follow up on . . .”
***
Charles took a sip of tea and watched Sarah. She bit her lip as she scribbled the other corrections he’d suggested on her copy of the manuscript. He felt his stomach dip at the sight. What could he do to ease her self-doubt? Reassurance was the only thing he could think of.
“Sarah?”
“Mm?”
“The more you write, the better you will get at picking these things up for yourself. It doesn’t make you a bad writer, just a beginner. You won the mentorship because my mother and I could see your potential. You do have potential, Sarah.”
The pen in her hand hovered over the manuscript. She did a slow sideways glance at him. In an uncertain voice, she asked, “You really believe that?”
He nodded, “I do.”
Her mouth quirked up, “Thank you.”
“You should write it on a post-it.”
“Huh?”
“It’s something Mom and I both used to do. During bouts of self-doubt, we would write motivational messages for ourselves on post-its and stick them somewhere we could see them every day.”
She lifted her gaze to his. He held it. She looked away and scribbled on her notepad in a way that showed she’d thought of something important to write down. He grinned to himself. Typical writer. He did the same thing. So did his mother.
Even after everything that had been going on . . .
Not wanting to think about it, he shifted his thoughts to the knowledge that Mark Woodward was Sarah’s brother.
Which is good because I’m sure the man’s gay.
At least, judging by the look the man had given him before leaving. Charles frowned. Sarah didn’t deserve the hurt that might’ve come if Mark had been her husband and “come out.” It was obvious she’d had her heart broken before. Hints of that had seeped into her manuscript. Was she aware of that? Had she done it on purpose? He was overcome with the urge to know, but they weren’t acquainted enough for him to ask such a private question.
Sarah peeked at him with a shy expression on her face. Before he could speak, she shoved her notepad toward him, “What do you think?”
On it, she’d written in capital letters: You do have potential. The “do” was underlined.
He grinned. She’d done what he’d suggested. “Excellent. Now, put it somewhere you’ll see it every day.”
She ripped the sheet free and went to her computer desk. He watched her tack the words to the side of the bookcase closest to the desk. “There.”
When she turned around, her eyes seemed to be glowing, and her smile was open and full. The confidence in her body language hit him hard in the stomach. Oh boy. One more thing to add to the growing list of things he liked about Sarah. He would need to watch himself. Otherwise he was certain to fall in love.