him the way I do?”
“You made the right choice. You did what was best for him at the time. Let it go. Move on. Let yourself live again.”
They’d hashed this through hundreds of times and Sara knew Penny was right. Penniless, without family to turn to, and still in college on scholarship, she’d done what she had to in order to secure her baby’s future. “I’m haunted by the thought that if I’d kept him, something would have worked out.”
“If that Aleks jerk had stuck around and been the man you thought he was, things would have worked out. But he didn’t. That’s my point. Life happened. It sucks but it happened. Now, life is happening again in a good way.” She shoved the letter at Sara. “Take a chance, Sara. Go for it. Just this once, let yourself be happy.”
Sara shook her head but took the letter in hand. Penny’s insistence was starting to wear her down. She did need a change. She needed to shake loose from the guilt and loss and depression that had plagued her for too long.
In a feeble attempt to resist, she muttered, “It can’t be true. I wish it was, but I’m not the kind of person who wins fabulous trips to Europe.”
A male voice intruded. “I beg to differ, Miss Presley. If you are indeed Sara Presley, you are our grand prize winner.”
Both women spun toward the tall, imposing figure who had entered the shop. Dressed in a business suit with hair graying at the temples and the smell of intellect coming off him in waves, the man reminded her of a slick television lawyer.
“Who are you?” Sara blurted. “And how do you know about the prize?”
“I am here as executor of the contest, Miss Presley. Since you have not yet called to claim your prize, the owner of the spa felt an official visit was in order to assure you that everything is in order and that our staff eagerly awaits your arrival.”
Sara looked from the man to Penny. Her friend’s eyes were as round as saucers.
“Are you serious?” Sara gestured to the letter. “This is for real?”
“Indeed.” The man moved into the small space behind the cluttered counter and offered Sara a manila envelope. “Inside you will find a brochure detailing the prize, a round-trip ticket and your cash prize.”
“Cash?” Sara squeaked. “Ticket?”
With hands now trembling, she removed the items from the envelope one by one. Penny leaned over her shoulder. “That stuff’s real, Sara.”
“I can’t believe this.” She read over the brochure and saw photos of pampered women getting massages and facials, of a fabulous castle standing proud and ancient by a perfect blue sea, of rooms so beautiful they stole her breath. She checked the airline ticket. Her stomach jumped into her throat. “First class?”
“A vacation unrivaled by any other awaits you, miss, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The man tilted his head. “Do you believe it now?”
“I’m beginning to.”
“Excellent. I will tell the owner of Castle-by-the-Sea to expect you. He will be delighted to greet you on Thursday.”
Sara trailed him as he moved toward the door. “Thursday? This coming Thursday? That’s only two days away.”
“Why, yes, madam. Is that a problem?”
Penny popped up behind them and gave Sara a little whack on the shoulder. “No problem at all. She’ll be there.”
Two days later Sara was still in delighted shock as she waved goodbye to a jubilant Penny and boarded a plane for London. Once there, she was whisked aboard a private jet that took her to Castle-by-the-Sea.
As she disembarked, she breathed in the scent of sea spray, warm and salty and so different from the landlocked aroma of Kansas.
At the bottom of the steps, a line of attendants waited, tidy and professional in red uniforms. The castle itself sprawled before her, a stunning old stone structure complete with spires and cupolas and towers that had no doubt once housed European royalty. In the distance, below the hill was a blue sea that would have provided protection for the castle inhabitants. Today a handful of people reclined on the white sand or cavorted in the crystal waters.
The butterflies in her belly fluttered. “This must be a resort for the rich and famous.”
She pinched herself. Surely there was a mistake. She was a nobody. Surely she would be sent packing by nightfall.
But that was not the case. She was escorted to a private suite high in one wing of the castle, and for the rest of the afternoon she was fed and massaged, pampered and waited upon so that when night came she fell asleep in the canopied bed with a smile on her face. Maybe her run of bad luck was finally over.
“Miss Presley. Miss Presley.” A woman’s accented voice penetrated the fog in Sara’s brain.
“I’m Sara. Just Sara,” she muttered, though her throat was froggy with sleep. She snuggled deeper into the smooth, silken sheets and pulled the down comforter up to her ears. She’d been having the loveliest dream ever.
“Well, ‘Just Sara.’ The intruding voice sounded amused. “I take it you slept well.”
Sara sat up straight and stared around the luxurious room and then at the young woman whom she recognized as Antonia, her personal attendant. “I wasn’t dreaming. This is real.”
“Yes, miss. Very real. Would you care for breakfast before we begin the day?”
“Coffee please.”
From a pretty tray, the round-figured Antonia poured the fragrant coffee and handed it to Sara. “Not a very healthy beginning to a busy day. Some melon perhaps? Or strawberries and cream? That seems to be a favorite with our guests. We grow our own, you see.”
“The strawberries or the cream?”
“Both.” The young woman giggled.
Feeling a little like Cinderella, Sara laughed with her. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
Something shifted through Antonia’s soft brown eyes. Sara noticed the slight hesitation and wondered. But before her thoughts could wander too far, the attendant smiled and the expression disappeared. “A very special treat awaits you. The owner of Castle-by-the-Sea wishes to see you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I really want to thank him.”
Antonia gazed at her a second longer before turning away.
Within the hour Sara was dressed and standing outside an enormous pair of ornate double doors inside a palace of such breathtaking beauty, it must be a tourist attraction. From the looks of this particular wing—one of many from what she’d observed so far—and the scurry of suit-clad men and women going in and out of offices, this was the business section of the spa. Apparently behind these white and gilded doors fit for a king was the owner himself.
A nervous jitter danced down her arms.
One of the doors opened inward. A butler uniformed
