Then her phone buzzed.

She closed her eyes momentarily before checking the readout.

“Will I ever see you again?”

She collapsed onto the couch. All was not lost. “I think you will.”

“Until then. Sweet dreams, Sarah.”

Inexplicable relief laced with adrenaline. That’s what she was feeling. She stared mutely at Meg Ryan on the television screen in front of her. She was aware of the fact that she was smiling and shook her head in wonder at whomever this was who’d taken control of her mind and body. She was flirting with another woman via text message for heaven’s sake, and for the first time in a long while, she was excited for what life may have in store.

*

Emory said good night to the building security guard and strolled into the parking lot, peering up at the clear night sky and exhaling. She was exhausted from her long day of work, the muscles in her neck tight, but she didn’t care. Her spirits were high.

She’d behaved like a teenager tonight, texting Sarah impulsively when she couldn’t get her off her mind. She’d promised herself that she would sidestep the Sarah situation. That would have been the mature thing to do.

So much for maturity.

But Sarah missed her and had confirmed the connection between them at least on some level. Normally, Emory would pursue the other woman for whatever casual enjoyment she could get out of the situation, but with Sarah, it was more complicated. A) Sarah was not a declared lesbian, B) she terrified the hell out of her, and C) had a child, which was pretty much a deal breaker. Though she didn’t know exactly how to move forward, or even if they should, the fact that Sarah might be feeling even a little bit of what she was left her with enough to call the night a good one. She decided not to look beyond the here and now and enjoy the small victory. Maybe she would go for a run on the beach when she got home. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so tired. Checking the sky one last time, she grinned and was pretty sure the stars were twinkling extra bright.

Chapter Seven

Sarah popped her head around the corner of her mother’s modest office. “Mama, can we talk for few minutes?”

“Sure, sure. Come in, sweetheart. Sit.” Her mother took off her reading glasses and gestured her into the small space. “What would you like to talk about?”

Sarah took a seat across from her mother and nervously pulled opened the ledger she carried with her. “Before you say anything, please hear me out.”

“What am I looking at, mija?” She regarded Sarah with a mixture of amusement and reservation, turning her attention to the ledger.

“This is a listing of our accounts receivable for the past two months, and as you can see, we did a record number of jobs. So many, in fact, that we didn’t have enough workers to fill them all.”

“Yes,” her mother chimed in. “We all just have to work a little harder. I don’t mind cleaning a few houses each week if it means we don’t have to turn down work.”

“Mama,” Sarah began, her tone clear that she meant business, “we have to face facts. It’s time to raise our prices, and not just a few percentage points this time. We have an established name and a credible reputation, yet our fees are on the low end of the scale for the market we service. It doesn’t add up. We could be doing half the work for twice as much and see a real rise in profits.” When her mother began to protest, Sarah politely raised her hand to signal she had more to say. Her mother inclined her head in acquiescence. “You’ve always instilled in me, Mama, that the quality of the work was more important than anything else. We offer quality work, and we should be paid for it. If we raise our prices, yes, our client list will shrink, but we’ll make just as much money and focus our time and energy into continuing to establish ourselves as the best in the business.”

Her mother frowned. “Where is this coming from, mija?”

Sarah pulled Emory’s check from her pocket. “This is from the Banning Street job.”

Her mother reached for the check and placed her glasses back on her nose. She studied it, her eyebrows rising appreciatively at the payment received. “You always do good work, Sarah, and you’re a smart girl. I’m not surprised Ms. Owen included a bit more.”

“It means more than that. When your clients inform you that you’re undercharging and insist on paying you more out of principle, it’s time to take notice. This came from a successful businesswoman, Mama, who also thinks we should raise our prices. Will you think about it?”

Her mother nodded. “Is there something else you’d like to talk to me about? Is everything okay with Graciela?”

“Grace is fine, but now that you mention it, there is something.” Sarah took a breath and decided it was just best to plow forward. “I’d like permission to expand Immaculate Home. I’ve put a business plan together that I’d like you to look over. It’s a little bit of what we’ve talked about before, but essentially, it’s a guaranteed win for us. Our clients have raved about our space reorganization, and if we take it one step further and offer full construction and customization, we can’t go wrong. I promise you, Mama, there’s money to be made. We have enough capital now to take on a designer, and I’ve talked to Roman about handling construction contracts for us. Everything’s in this folder, every last detail. I’ve even scouted some office space at the new building across the street. Mama, I’d like to head up the new sector. I know I can do it.”

Sarah handed the leather bound folder she’d purchased for her proposal to her mother. “Take your time and see what you think.”

Her mother’s eyes were guarded and she nodded very slowly as if in thought. Sarah watched patiently. Finally, after flipping casually through the folder, she offered Sarah a small but reassuring smile. “You’ve put a lot of work into this, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have because I think it’s the right thing for us. For me.”

“Let’s do it.”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. “What? Just like that? You haven’t even read what I’ve put together. There are projections there and suggested rates and—”

Her mother waved her off and came around the front of the desk and pulled Sarah from her chair into an embrace. “We’ll get to all that. I trust you, mija, and believe you’re capable of great things. If you think this is the way to go, so do I.”

Sarah felt like doing a backflip. More than that. If there were music, she’d have broken it down right there. Her mother pulled back and looked at her. “I’m proud of you. You’re the future of this place. I’m just an old woman who’s happy to have a job.”

Sarah laughed at the silly statement. Her mother had built this company from one client twenty-five years prior. “Thank you, Mama, but I don’t know what any of us would do without you.”

*

It was dusk, Emory’s favorite time of day, and she decided to enjoy it. It had been several weeks since she’d taken a walk along the shoreline, and she chastised herself for not taking more advantage of living on the beach. She kicked her shoes off, leaving them on her back deck, and made the short walk to the water’s edge, savoring the feel of the dry sand on her skin. She rolled up the bottoms of her jeans and made her way a little further out so the tide would just graze the tops of her feet as she walked. It was getting chilly out as the sun made its descent in the sky, and she was grateful for the gray hoodie she’d put on before leaving the house.

It was a quiet evening on her favorite stretch of Mission Beach with just a few joggers and a family trying desperately to save their sand castle from the encroaching tide. She stopped and watched them for a moment. The little boy threw his body in front of the castle, his parents laughing and scrambling to help.