Free My Sweet Valentine by Jill Sanders Page B

while you can.” Her mother's smile widened. “That Allen Masters looks like he could show you a good time.”
     
    “Mother!” Sara pulled her hand away and turned her back on her mother. She didn't want her to see her flaming cheeks.
    “What? Just because I'm old doesn’t mean I didn't see the sparks flying from his eyes when he looked at you.”
     
    “ Really, you make him sound like some sort of demon.” Sara laughed at the cartoon image of her and Allen, sparks and fire flying from his eye sockets when he looked at her.
     
    Her mother sighed and turned back to her computer. “All I'm saying is take some time to stop and smell the roses. You'll regret not doing so when you’re my age.”
     
    Her mother's statement played over and over in her mind a few days later as she balanced the large container of cupcakes, her laptop, her purse, and a steaming cup of coffee as she walked from her newly windshielded car to the front door of the bakery. Juggling everything, she unlocked the front door and knew immediately something was wrong.
     
    The sound of water running caused her to set everything down and rush to the back room. Her mind raced to images of the roof leaking again. What she saw when she got there shocked her to her core: The room was destroyed and the back door was kicked in where someone had broken in.
     

    Allen rubbed his eyes and took another sip of the terrible coffee. Three hours of sleep did not sit well with him. He was giving some serious thought to why he’d decided to have a dog in the first place. The drive into town was relaxing, but when he hit the outskirts of town, he noticed the police car and truck outside Sara's shop. Hitting the breaks, he pulled behind Robert's car and rushed into the building, leaving his truck running.
     
    “Sara!” he called out at the door, running to where he heard voices coming from the back room. Stopping just inside the back door, he gaped at the mess.
     
    There was an inch of water on the floor, most likely due to someone plugging the sink with paper towels and leaving it running. The faucet was turned off now, but the sink was still spilling over the sides. All the pans that had hung over the center workspace were tossed about, some were even dented. Her utensils were the same, some so badly, they no longer resembled what they had been. The shelves they had worked so hard putting together were tipped over and all the bins that held her flour and sugars were dumped out and causing a sticky mess in huge piles on the floor. The back door was shattered. The old wood had cracked under the weight of someone’s foot.
     
    Robert looked up and held his hand up to him. “Better not step in. It's a mess in here.” He pointed to the wading boots he wore. “They clogged the drain in the floor with cardboard so it would flood. Sara, go on out front. I'll finish up here and come out in a few minutes.”
     
    He stood back as Sara walked towards to him. She held herself rigid, her shoulders square, her arms crossed in front of her. Her tennis shoes were soaked as were the bottom few inches of her jeans.
     
    “Are you okay?” He pulled her into the front room then engulfed her in a hug. Her face was blank, but when he held her, her shoulders slumped and he heard her sniffle. “Let it go. I'm here,” he murmured into her hair as she began to cry into his jacket.
     
    He held her as she cried and when Robert walked out, Allen shook his head. He held back until Sara pulled away and wiped the remaining tears away.
     
    “I think Robert wants to talk to you.”
    “Why don't you have a seat.” He motioned towards her small makeshift desk and chair. She walked over and sat down, looking at her hands. Allen could tell she was embarrassed about crying in front of him and Robert, but she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.
     
    “ When was the last time you were here?” Robert pulled out his paper and pencil.
     
    “Yesterday morning. I met