Summer Desires Read online

  Sarah and Justin nodded.

  “Ewww,” came a voice over the sound of the ocean.

  They turned their heads in the direction of the voice. A woman was staring at something in the sand, her lips curled back in disgust.

  “I think I’d better go see what’s happening,” Peter said. “Come on, Hannah.” They hurried off, Peter calling over his shoulder, “It was nice to meet you both.”

  “Likewise,” they called back. Justin turned to Sarah and asked, “Do you want to go see what she found?”

  “Seriously? After what happened this morning?”

  Justin laughed. “I was only kidding.”

  “Good,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Want to check out the festivities instead?” She indicated the Earth Day displays, vendors, and activities in the plaza by the pier.

  Justin eyed the food booths. “Yeah, I’m hungry. Let’s get some lunch.”

  They got drinks and slices of pizza and found a spot to sit. The sun was peeking from behind the marine layer now, and the warmth felt good after the chilly late April morning. Nearby, under the sun’s rays, gleamed a display of luxury hybrid vehicles from Bergen Motors, one of the festival sponsors.

  “Nice,” Justin said, gazing dreamily at the sleek, new automobiles. “Can you see me in that coupe? Hot guy by my side?”

  The coupe was indeed a beautiful car. Unfortunately, Sarah now tended to associate expensive coupes with her ex-girlfriend, Robin, and the cars did not hold as much appeal for her as they used to. Robin, with her designer clothes, expensive cars, and multimillion-dollar home, was a high-powered real estate agent who sold luxury homes in South Coast Beach and the other cities of Orange County to a wealthy clientele. Sarah had become swept up in her world of wealth and luxury, and it had not worked out well. Robin used aspects of Sarah’s modest upbringing and lifestyle in the Midwest as fodder for endless jokes and stories to tell her friends. Seduced by the trappings of Robin’s wealth, Sarah had found it too easy to overlook—for too long—Robin’s belittling behavior and faults and those of her friends. She mustered a smile for Justin’s benefit. “No,” she replied, teasing him, “but I can see myself in that coupe, hot woman by my side, cruising down Pacific Coast Highway, sunroof open…”

  Justin laughed good-naturedly but then stopped as he looked at her more closely. With a thoughtful frown, he glanced from her to the expensive cars and back. “Looking at these cars makes you think of Robin, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Sarah admitted. Justin was all too familiar with her time with Robin, having been there from the start to hear of the excitement of the new relationship, to lend a sympathetic ear when things were going badly between them, and to comfort her when they broke up.

  Sarah had met Robin almost immediately after moving to South Coast Beach two years ago. Exploring her new coastal city by strolling along its boulevards and doing some window shopping, she had stopped in front of a boutique to admire the window display after a lacey, sleeveless cocktail dress in dark pink on one of the mannequins caught her eye. It and the other dresses on display were not the kind of clothing one found in the stores of the small farming community in Iowa in which she was raised. In her hometown, what few clothing stores there were displayed mannequins wearing button-down shirts, jeans, and caps emblazoned with the names of tractor companies. Things like her dad wore every day. To buy a nice dress back home necessitated a drive of a couple hours to a larger city. Still, those were not in league with the dresses in this window. And Sarah’s salary as a middle school teacher was not in league with the cost of the dresses.

  Just as she had been about to turn away from the window display, a woman carrying two large shopping bags had emerged from the boutique. She paused by Sarah’s side, gazing at the dress also.

  “That’s a pretty dress.”

  “Mm-hm,” Sarah murmured, admiring the sheath silhouette and surplice neckline.

  “It would look beautiful on you.”

  Sarah turned to look at the woman then. Intent brown eyes regarded her from an attractive, tanned, and lined, but minimally so, older face. Her short, neatly coiffed hair was reddish brown and she was nattily dressed in tan linen slacks belted at her waist, a navy-blue linen blouse, and tasseled loafers. Tasteful gold jewelry completed her look.

  “Why don’t you wear that dress and join me for dinner Friday night?”

  Sarah felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “A date. South Coast Steak at seven o’clock.”

  Sarah tried to process this. Had this woman, a complete stranger who didn’t even know if she was a lesbian, just asked her out? Was this how things worked in her new city? Were all the women here so bold? “You don’t even know me,” Sarah said.

  “Ah, but I’d like to know you.”

  Sarah regarded her, curiosity piqued. She glanced again at the dress. She could easily imagine herself wearing it in the upscale steakhouse and sitting across from this attractive older woman for a nice dinner. But both the dress and the restaurant were out of her price range. She shook her head. “That’s nice of you to invite me to dinner, but I’m afraid I can’t…”

  “Afford the dress?”

  Cheeks reddening with embarrassment, Sarah managed to give a short nod.

  “Here.” The woman handed her one of her shopping bags. “For you. Size eight.”

  Reflexively, Sarah reached for the bag being handed to her. “What is this? The dress? How did…”

  “The owner of the boutique has an accurate eye for size.”

  Sarah frowned. “This was a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” She indicated the bag.

  The woman shrugged, apparently unbothered. “I prefer the term audacious. I haven’t gotten where I am in life without taking risks and going after what I want.”

  “What if I’m not interested?” Sarah managed to ask.

  “Then keep the dress anyway. But I hope to see you for our dinner date.” She turned and walked away.

  The conversation was surreal, but Sarah wasn’t ready for it to end. “Just dinner?” she called after her.

  The woman turned, a smile of victory appearing on her face. “Just dinner.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Robin.”

  “Mine’s Sarah.”

  “’Bye for now, Sarah.” Robin opened the door of a Porsche 911 Carrera 4S parked at the curb, got in with her remaining shopping bag, and drove away.

  “’Bye,” Sarah said faintly. The whole encounter had been so out of the realm of anything she had ever experienced that she knew she would wear the dress and meet her for dinner.

  True to her word, Robin had not tried to make the evening into anything more than a dinner date. And the date had been pleasant—pleasant enough to result in other dates that had turned into more than just dinner. And that had been pleasant, too—as good, if not better, than things with her previous girlfriend. But Sarah should have known better than to think that anything worthwhile could have come out of being so casually picked up. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, she liked to think she was a little wiser and would be better at avoiding women like Robin.

  She sighed again, trying to push away thoughts of Robin and instead focus on enjoying her pizza with Justin, listening to the live music being played, and watching a group of people doing yoga on the grassy area of the plaza.

  Justin brushed off his hands and got to his feet. “I know what will cheer you up. Let’s go to the face-painting booth.”

  Sarah laughed. “Okay.” She popped the last bite of her pizza into her mouth and stood up.

  After getting rainbows painted on their cheeks, they collected their bikes from the bicycle valet booth and pedaled to Sarah’s house. She lived close enough to the beach that when Justin came over, they often walked the few city blocks to the beach and took a staircase down to the sand. The pier was a little further, though, so today they had biked.

  At the rental house that she sh
ared with two roommates, Justin said goodbye and kept pedaling to his apartment further into the city. Sarah would have preferred to live by herself, but having roommates was the only way to afford living in a beach city. She hadn’t moved all the way to California from the Midwest not to live near the beach. And if she was going to live near the beach, then she was really going to live at the beach, not in the inland portion of a beach city. She felt lucky to live in this house, even if it took a sizeable chunk of her salary and meant having less privacy.

  She parked her bike in the garage and then headed around to the small backyard to rinse off the bucket and the garden gloves that she had taken to the beach as part of keeping the trash collection during Earth Day a zero-waste event.

  An image of the woman from the beach floated into her mind again. She had returned Sarah’s smile as they parted, so maybe like Sarah she would welcome another meeting. Sarah wondered if she had already ruined her chances with her, though, because of the stingray incident. That is, if the lifeguard was even a lesbian.

  What if she hadn’t ruined her chances? The lifeguard was probably stationed in that tower near where she and Justin had been picking up trash, so it should be easy enough to find her again and find out. Sarah just had to muster the courage to try.

  Chapter Two

  Amy woke but stayed in bed. If she stayed there, she could avoid going to Sunday brunch at her parents’ house and avoid hearing another round of criticism from her family about becoming a lifeguard. She wouldn’t have to endure their judgment for taking a break from the family business or endure their guilt trips about covering her auto dealership in her absence.

  Unfortunately, if she missed brunch, she would face criticism, judgment, and guilt for that too. That was what had happened last Sunday when she’d had to work. Sighing, she turned back the covers and got up.

  She paused to pet her orange tabby, Sandy, who lay curled at the foot of the bed. A bit of drool from her mouth had dampened the bedspread again. She had started drooling only recently and Amy was a little worried. She planned to take her to the veterinarian if it got any worse. After petting Sandy once more, she went to the kitchen to get something to eat before brunch.

  Brunch was a meal that really didn’t work for her and not just because of family drama during the meal. It was too hard to wait until lunch to have breakfast. She liked to have both breakfast and lunch each day, not skip breakfast, give it a new name and move it to lunch. It was just one less thing she had in common with her parents and her sister. She fixed herself some scrambled eggs, toast, sliced fruit, and coffee and sat down to eat.

  As she finished eating, she heard the thunk of the thick Sunday paper being deposited outside her front door. She put on a robe over her bed clothes and stepped out to get it. An article about the Earth Day cleanup was on the front page. An image of the blonde swaying her hips as she walked along the sand popped into her mind. She had been with a guy, but the two of them had seemed more like friends than a couple. Could she be a lesbian? And would she be at the beach again soon, or had she just been there for the Earth Day event?

  Refilling her coffee mug, she took it and the paper out to the table and chairs on her balcony. She took a moment to savor the view of the water and to breathe in the fresh ocean air. She loved her beachfront condo. She had bought a place in South Coast Beach instead of inland near her dealership in Santa Ana even though it had meant a commute of about an hour each way. Living at the beach was worth it. And now, with her change of jobs, she had zero commute; she could walk to work.

  Amy saw any number of pretty women at the beach on a given day, so she wasn’t sure why her thoughts were lingering on the curvaceous blonde specifically. Maybe it was that she had stood up for her friend and for those kids. And maybe it was that she had just seemed so intent and focused on her trash collecting. Amy wanted to date someone serious and caring like that at this point in her life.

  Just before the appointed time for brunch, Amy pulled into the driveway of the three-car garage at her parents’ two-story Craftsman-style home. Her parents lived on the other side of South Coast Beach, where plots of land were larger than those at the beach. She parked her Lexus SUV next to her sister’s newer one. While she still had the same SUV that her parents had given her as a college graduation gift, Aurora had long since traded hers in. She liked to get a new model every couple of years. Amy took good care of her older vehicle and thought the recent wax and polish job she had personally given it made it look almost as good as Aurora’s new model.

  She got out and smoothed her slacks and blouse, her usual attire for Sunday brunch. Starting up the walkway, she readied herself to hear the inevitable criticism about her new job. She wondered if today would also be another day when her family would interrogate her about her love life, or lack thereof and ask when she was ever going to get another girlfriend. Such conversations weren’t pleasant, but at least her family was tolerant of her sexuality and had been ever since she had come out during college.

  Amy let herself in the front door with her key and walked in. Conversation drifted from the living room, about the auto business as usual. Her parents, sister, and brother-in-law were sitting and chatting with, what looked this week to be, mimosas in hand. “Hi, everyone,” she said with a smile.

  “Amy! Glad you could make it this Sunday!” her mother exclaimed by way of greeting.

  Amy blinked. She hadn’t expected the criticism to start so quickly. “Mom, you know I was working last weekend.”

  Her father spoke. “A definite drawback to not being your own boss in that job like you are at your dealership.” He returned to a sales numbers conversation he was having with her sister. Amy sighed and took a seat.

  Although her parents were in their sixties, they had no plans to retire any time soon. Her father, Robert, continued to run his original dealership in South Coast Beach. A tall man with an easy smile, he had a full head of hair with only some of it graying. Her mother, Beatrice, ran the second dealership in Newport Beach. Visits to the salon kept her hair a dark brown in a stylish cut that fell past her shoulders and featured long bangs parted to the side, all of which slowed any appearance of aging.

  “And how many units did you move this week?” her father asked Aurora, inquiring about the number of vehicles her dealership had sold.

  With studied nonchalance, Aurora swept a lock of her salon-highlighted blond hair behind one ear and named a high number.

  Their father let out a low whistle. “Impressive!”

  Aurora grinned, as she rightfully should. Amy offered her congratulations, as well.

  “Thanks,” Aurora answered. “And don’t worry—we sold plenty at your dealership, too.” She liked to remind Amy that they were all working more as they covered running her dealership while she took time off from it to work as a lifeguard. But Amy hadn’t asked Aurora or any of them to do so, having planned instead for members of her management team to cover her absence. It was her father who had insisted that family members do the job.

  “Now, Aurora…” their mother warned.

  “I wasn’t worried,” Amy said, trying not to let Aurora get under her skin. She already knew that her family had moved plenty of vehicles at her dealership. Just because she was spending time away from her dealership didn’t mean she wasn’t checking on things. But she really hadn’t been worried. Her parents and sister were all very good at sales. She was too. The only difference was that running an auto dealership seemed to come naturally to them, filling each of them with energy and enthusiasm, whereas it only drained her.

  “Good.” Her mother reached over and patted her knee before rejoining the numbers discussion. Amy looked over at Aurora again and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Aurora, ten years her senior, had long since paid off her own loan for her dealership. For Amy, on just a lifeguard salary now, paying off her loan was going to be impossible to do quickly enough to meet the terms of the loan. While being an open water lifeguard paid fairly well, especial
ly as one acquired more skills and certifications and moved up the career ladder, it did not pay nearly as well as being the owner and general manager of a successful luxury auto dealership.

  To pay off her loan, she was either going to have to find a buyer for her dealership, which would not only incur the ire of her rather controlling family but also would take some time, or she was going to have to eventually resume her role as general manager and earn that salary in addition to her ownership income. And she was going to have to figure it all out soon in order to continue being a lifeguard, something she very much wanted to do.

  “Brunch is ready,” Emilia Alvarez, her parents’ housekeeper, announced from the doorway. Her apron was immaculate and her hair was pulled back in a tidy bun as always. Emilia had worked in a hotel kitchen at one point and knew much about preparing brunch. She had come to work for Amy’s parents because she wanted to slow down and have lighter duties. Amy thought her parents were lucky to have a kind and reliable person like Emilia in their employ.

  They made their way to the dining room. Her father took a seat at the head of the table and her mother a seat at the opposite end. Aurora sat to their father’s right, her husband Fred at her side. He was a manager at a telecom company in Irvine, the city where Aurora’s dealership was located. Amy took her seat to her father’s left, an empty chair by her side. She supposed things could be worse—her parents could be trying to fill the chair by setting her up on blind dates.

  “Thank you, Emilia,” Amy said as she served them each a beautiful plate of blanched asparagus topped with ribbons of prosciutto artfully arranged to nestle a poached egg, all of which was drizzled with hollandaise sauce. Toast points were arrayed along the edge of each plate. Emilia came around with a pitcher to refill the glasses of mimosas but brought Amy a flute of plain orange juice, knowing that she preferred it to the cocktail. Consuming too much alcohol didn’t mesh with Amy’s fitness regimen, so she drank only occasionally. Once everyone was served, her father raised his glass and made one of his usual toasts about another successful week in the auto business.