In My Dreams

Still, in her case it seemed a shame. And Ben had gone off to work that morning looking as though someone had hammered him into his clothes. Jack was determined not to mention her refusal of Ben’s proposal unless she brought it up.

The elevator doors parted on a big room, empty except for two men wearing ventilators, who were putting a pile of trash into black plastic bags.

“What was up here?” Jack asked.

“Living quarters for the people who owned the restaurant. They moved out in the middle of the night a couple of years ago to escape their creditors. Their furniture’s been given to Goodwill.”

Suddenly she smiled brightly. “Can’t you see this with three or four sofas, lots of comfortable chairs, craft tables to work on, a couple of televisions and earphones, and a small library in one corner?”

“The real one is right across the street.”

“True, but it might not have Crochet Monthly magazine and all the history books Vinny loves.”

It always surprised him how well she knew her clients. And how much she cared.

“I’d say if the inspection your attorney is arranging comes out well—” Jack turned slowly in a circle, looking the room over again “—this seems ideal for the seniors’ center.”

Her smile widened further. “Great! That’s what I thought. Maybe you’ll want to bid on the work if we get to move in. We’ll have to repair, do the floors, put in new light fixtures, all kinds of stuff.”

He nodded. He needed work.

In the elevator on the way down, she seemed to lose some of her sparkle. “How was Ben this morning?” she asked.

“Brokenhearted,” he replied truthfully.

Arms folded, she leaned against the wall of the car. “He told you about it?”

“Some. About children.”

“You think that’s awful?”

“Of course not. Misguided, maybe. But everybody has to do what works for them. It’s just hard to deal with when the same things don’t work for the person you love.”

She smiled faintly as the doors parted. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.

Their footsteps rang on the floor as they walked to the back door.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_93cfdf0f-a868-5ebe-9ed4-695c180edcf5)

ON MONDAY, SARAH hosted her favorite clients in the community room in the building where Jasper, her blind client, lived. She’d done a circuit of town to pick up Vinny and Margaret and they now all sat together in a large room with a wall of windows that looked out onto the ocean. A mountain ash on the back lawn had lost its bright red berries and was just beginning to turn from green to gold. There was a discernible bite in the air that said October.

She carried a plate of oatmeal-raisin bars she’d brought along from the small kitchen area to the coffee table. “I apologize for sounding like a page of an Agatha Christie novel, but I’ve gathered you all here to tell you about the talent show fund-raiser for the Cooper Building, hopefully the new home of your seniors’ center.”

Jasper, whose head was perpetually tilted in an attitude of listening, frowned in the direction of her voice.

“Talent show?” he repeated ominously. “You mean like singing and dancing?”

“Yes. Or acrobatics and juggling.” She waited for a smile from anyone. None came. “Dramatic readings,” she went on in a teasing tone. “Wild animal taming. Darts.”

“I’m good at darts,” Jasper said. He was average height and white-haired, though only in his late fifties. Then he grinned. “But one of you will have to stand in front of the bull’s-eye, talking so I can throw at the sound of your voice.”

Sarah laughed, but neither Vinny nor Margaret even cracked a smile. She had this problem with them every time they got together as a group. They liked her visits as long as she didn’t ask them to do anything outside of their comfort zones or at a time that interfered with their favorite television shows. They were happy in their apartments, at the seniors’ center and at the supermarket, but trips out of town were out, as was anything that disturbed their routines.

“Sure,” she said to Jasper. “If you give me a minute to duck first. Vinny, you played in a band on weekends before your wife died, didn’t you? Margaret sang with a traveling choir in her twenties and taught music in the school here in Beggar’s Bay. Maybe the two of you could pair up to do a song together.”

The look the two exchanged should have been accompanied by the heavy, threatening music that announced the arrival of Darth Vader.

“No,” Vinny said simply.

Sarah didn’t mind putting him on the spot. “Why not?”

“Because he knows I wouldn’t want to do it, either,” Margaret replied for him. “Vinny’s kind of...”

Sarah understood her hesitation. Vinny was difficult to describe.

“Jazzy,” she finally said. And it was no secret that they didn’t particularly like each other. Vinny was often outrageous, and Margaret tended to be stiff and formal. “My approach to music is more serious.”

“Guys.” Sarah let them see her disappointment. “I need your help. We need all of us—seniors and all of us who work with you—to support this project so that you’ll have this great place to meet. Have you been in the Cooper Building? It’s wonderful.”

“I was in it,” Vinny said, “when it was still a bank. It would be nice to have a place that was ours, a place we couldn’t be kicked out of with little warning.”

“Right. So what if you each did something individually?”

“I might be able to get some of my old band together.” Vinny picked up one of her oatmeal-raisin bars and smiled in anticipation before taking a big bite. “My drummer is still in town,” he said after a moment, “and Boseman, my guitarist, lives in Newport. I’ll bet I could get him to come down. Mmm. Delicious.”

“Excellent.” Delighted to have a positive word spoken, Sarah steered the conversation back to the general plan. “The fliers I gave you explain that all the proceeds go to your nonprofit’s bid on the building.”

Margaret looked skeptical. “Could that make us enough money? That lawyer who wants it, too, has to have more money than we do.”

“Someone on the school board knows a country-western performer whose family once owned the building.” Sarah ramped up her enthusiasm, hoping it was contagious. “That should draw a lot of people. And he’ll judge the talent show. My boss seems to think people will be happy to support something that allows their friends to stand up in public and...be brave enough to perform. Of course, you two are so good you don’t have to be brave. You’re professionals.” She touched Jasper’s arm so he’d know she was talking to him. “What do you want to do? I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with the dart thing, after all.”

Jasper rolled unseeing blue eyes at the ceiling. “Well, let’s see. I could juggle knives, leap through a ring of fire, saw a lady in half...”

“I volunteer Sarah.” Vinny passed her the plate of treats. “Have one.”

“Cute, Vinny,” Sarah said. “I’ll be working just as hard as you are, but behind the scenes. We’re here to work as a team.”

“Okay.” Vinny picked up another bar and wrapped it in a napkin. “Thank you for the treats. I’ll get in touch with my guys and see what we can do. When do I have to let you know?”

“As soon as possible. Everyone involved will rehearse together twice—once the week before and once for the dress rehearsal the Friday night before our performance. That’ll be the Saturday before Thanksgiving in the high-school auditorium. Where are you going, Vinny? Don’t you want me to drive you home?”

“No, thanks.” Vinny checked his watch, pulled on a dark blue cotton jacket, put the napkin-wrapped bar in a pocket and grinned at her. “Jasper’s driving me home.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Actually, I have a friend on the third floor and I arranged to spend a little time with him, then my son’s picking me up for dinner.” He punched Jasper in the arm, code for wanting to shake hands. “Want to come, Jazz? It’s Nick Crawford. You know him from the seniors’ bus that takes us shopping.”

Jasper shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll stay to hear the entire plan.”