Page 15 of About Time You Noticed

"I bought bulk feed to save on costs, but it's reduced my cashflow for a few days. I signed up more clients this week. The money will clear tomorrow."

Dad managed to crack a smile. "Good." He scanned her face. "Are you getting ready to go out?"

Mom must not have told him about her date. If Sarah had paid her rent on time, she might have slipped away without having to answer a bunch of questions. And if Edward arrived while Dad was visiting . . .

"I'm going on a date with Tommy's teacher friend. Edward is a nice guy."

Dad arched a thick eyebrow full of unkempt long hairs. "Your first date?"

Sarah swallowed and nodded.

“How can you say he’s nice? You don’t know him.”

She stepped back. "Tommy has worked with him for a year. He speaks highly of Edward."

Dad's bottom lip turned outward. "Well, if Tommy approves—" He nodded. "His opinion counts. Tommy and I are a lot alike. I trust his judgment."

Sarah's eyes widened. Controlling, grumpy Dad was nothing like carefree, fun Tommy. Teens loved him.

"I better get dressed. My date should arrive within the hour."

Dad crossed his arms. "Why don't you bring him to the main house so your mom and I can meet him?"

That'd be as much fun as shoveling poop for the whole evening.

Sure, she could bring her date around, if she wanted to watch Edward run back to his car and back out of their driveway, tires peeling.

So many reasons why she wouldn’t take Dad up on that offer. It would be less painful to jab bamboo under Edward’s fingernails.

"You said you trust Tommy's judgment. And it’s only one date. If things develop, I'll bring him over then." Sarah stood on tiptoe and pecked his cheek. "You trust me too. Don't you? So you have nothing to worry about. I'm a big girl now. Well into adulthood."

Dad kissed her forehead. "Right. A big girl who's late on her rent again." He turned and paused in the doorway, turning over his shoulder. "If you're not home by midnight, I'll get my shotgun and hunt this Edward down." He laughed.

"Not funny, Dad."

"It is to me. And at the same time, I'm serious." He gave a dead-pan expression, then broke out into another smile.

"Dad!" She shooed him away and closed the door.

He was getting better. Slowly letting go. It had been the right decision to move out of the main house, but ideally, she'd get a place away from the property where Dad couldn't watch her every move. Not that she'd misbehave, but she had to cut the apron strings eventually. Once she became financially independent and the equine therapy business paid enough, she could afford the business expenses and lease her own land.

Sarah treaded lightly to the bathroom, avoiding the wet tiles. She plopped her foot onto the bathtub and examined her orange leg. If she were going to wear Emily's dress, she'd need pantyhose. Did she even have a pair? She never wore dresses, and as a bridesmaid, her dress had reached her ankles, so she hadn’t needed pantyhose.

She dug into her drawer, pushing items left and right. What if she couldn't find any? Her hands tremored. She pulled the drawer out and dumped its contents onto her bedspread. Throwing bras and underwear up like she was bargain hunting at a Black Friday sale, she finally found satin pantyhose. She stretched them out, and the black became more transparent. When did she buy these? Had she ever worn them? They looked too seductive for her style. She laughed out loud. Did she have a style? Her style was Tomboy. She sighed. Was that why she had a best friend named Tom?

No Tomboy tonight.

She gathered the pantyhose and inched her foot into one leg. Her stupid acrylic nails might create a run if she wasn’t extra careful—thanks to Emily. Nails too long and legs so orange, she could direct traffic.

Within twenty minutes, she had her hair and makeup done. Then it was time for the pièce de résistance—Emily's black dress. It needed to go over her head without snagging on hairpins. Once she'd slipped it on, she swung her arm around her back and pushed the zipper as far as she could reach. Bending her other arm over her shoulder, Sarah tried to grab the zipper, but it only rose halfway. She turned her back to the mirror and contorted again. In a weird gymnastic pose, she had both arms reaching in both directions, aiming for the tiny zipper in the middle. Nope. Not happening.

A knock sounded at the door. She jumped and spun to the mirror. Edward? Dad again? Her heart pounded in her chest. If Mom, she could help with the zipper.

She slipped on flats so she wouldn’t tower over Edward. Heading to the door, she glanced at the wall clock. He was way too early. Thirty minutes.

She took a deep breath, swung open the door, and let out a sigh. "Oh, it's just you."

Tommy blinked and scanned her from head to toe. "Yeah, it’s me. But who are you? What have you done with Sarah?"

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