by Karen Booth
“Do you think there’s a place for Johnathon’s name in the project? There’s going to be a park, isn’t there? A place for children to play? Perhaps it could be the Johnathon Sterling Memorial Park. Or is there a fountain?”
Tara hadn’t considered this idea at all. “There will be both, but I don’t think we have any say in what they name anything. That’s pretty much up to the city.”
“Well, I think they should name something after him. Johnathon built half of the new buildings downtown. He’s attracted businesses here. And he was a fixture of the community.”
Tara looked to Astrid for help, but Astrid didn’t say a peep. “I’ll ask. That’s really all I can promise right now.” Tara hoped that was a diplomatic enough answer.
A timer in the kitchen began to beep. “That’s dinner,” Miranda said, slowly getting up from the sofa.
“Let me help.” Tara followed her up to the open kitchen, which overlooked the great room. “What can I do?”
“I’m pregnant. I’m not an invalid.” Miranda pulled a large sheet pan from the oven with parchment packets of something wonderful-smelling. She pulled three dinner plates from the cabinet and began piercing the paper bundles with a paring knife. “There’s a salad in the fridge, if you can get that for me.”
Astrid had joined them and was first to jump into action, leaving Tara to feel as though she was in the way. She brought over a large white ceramic bowl with elaborate relief work along the edges depicting fruit and vines. Everything Miranda chose was beautiful, and Tara silently told herself that she might need to up her game when it came to home decor.
The three of them went out to the patio by the pool, settling at a round scrolled iron table. Miranda’s housekeeper had already set the table for them with exquisite silvery linens and water glasses. The meal was delicious—roasted red snapper with citrus and a touch of coconut milk, along with basmati rice. Miranda only picked at it, keeping her ginger ale close. The three shared polite conversation, but Tara couldn’t ignore that it wasn’t a natural thing for the three of them to be together. They’d all married the same man. They’d all had a very intimate relationship, good and bad, with Johnathon. They were as unlikely a trio of allies as could be.
It brought everything into focus. Not in theory, but in reality. Their arrangement was tenuous and Tara had better not count on any of this working out. Astrid’s secret could come out and alienate Miranda forever. Astrid could decide that no one at Sterling would ever take her seriously and she could bail. And as for Tara, well, she was trying very hard at something she desperately wanted to be good at, but she wasn’t quite there. Her decade in real estate might not have been her most loved, but at least she knew what she was doing, all the time, and she was exceptionally good at it. That just wasn’t the case when it came to development.
Still, Tara had to cling to hope that things would somehow work out for all three of them. Johnathon had brought them together for a reason, and despite his many faults, he was a very good judge of character. There had to be a common thread between them, one that went beyond their love for the same man. Tara was eager to find it. It would make their pact that much more solid. The first thing that came to mind for them to bond over was the baby.
“Miranda, have you started working on the nursery?” Tara set her dinner napkin across her plate. She wouldn’t have brought this up in front of Astrid if she didn’t think she could handle it. After all, it had been Astrid who’d reached out to Miranda. It was Astrid who’d wanted to forge a friendship.
“Are you kidding? I started picking stuff out the minute I found out I was pregnant. I just had it painted this week, but it’s a work in progress.”
“May we see it?” Astrid asked. Tara took that as confirmation that she could manage seeing the baby’s room.
The three took their plates inside and left them on the kitchen counter, then Miranda led them to the central hall and up the stairs to the third floor. When they arrived at the landing, Tara remembered that this was the floor with the master bedroom, and it was to the right. Miranda led them to the left. Inside was a generous and quiet space, with butter-yellow walls and creamy-white carpet.
“I haven’t picked out a crib yet. I don’t want to jinx myself.” Miranda’s hands went to her belly. “It’s still so early.”
Tara put her arm around Miranda’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “There’s no rush. You have plenty of time. It’s a beautiful start though. I’m sure this room will be amazing when it’s all done.”
Astrid, who had yet to say a word or give any sign as to what she was feeling, wandered to the far side of the room, where a black-and-white photograph in a lovely white wood frame sat atop a small bookcase. She picked up the picture and looked at it, rubbing her thumb along the edge of the frame. When she looked up at Miranda and Tara, there were tears in her eyes. “Is this Johnny? When he was a boy?”
Miranda nodded and walked over to join Astrid. “It is. His brother Andrew sent it to me a few days ago. He was in town a week or so ago and came by the house.”
Tara could hardly believe that Andrew had actually followed through and reached out to Miranda. And he’d visited her. That was a surprise. “Grant and I ran into him at a party.”
“He told me,” Miranda said. “I was glad that you and Grant asked him to contact me. This baby won’t have a lot of family. Johnathon’s parents are gone and so are mine. I have my brother and that’s it. I hated that Andrew and Johnathon were at odds. And I think he already feels plenty bad about not having gone to the funeral.”
“That was a big mistake on his part,” Tara said.
“Yeah. I told him as much. I think the picture of Johnathon was his way of trying to say he was sorry.”
“It’s a beautiful gesture,” Astrid said, still teary-eyed. “The baby can look at this and see what their dad looked like as a child.”
The full weight of the situation seemed to settle over them, like a heavy blanket, muffling all sound and much of the joy. Johnathon was gone, and yet his child was on the way. The baby would be their one true link to the man who had meant so much to all of them. They all had to do their best to take care of Miranda as she went through this difficult time, and they would all need to be there when the baby was born, so that he or she could know the full circle of people who had been close to their father.
Astrid gently put down the photo. “I need to go. I have a headache. I’m so sorry.” She kissed Miranda on the cheek, then Tara. “Thank you so much for a wonderful night. We should do this more often.”
“That would be nice,” Miranda said. “Can I show you out?”
“I can find my way. But thank you.” Just like that, Astrid disappeared through the door.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Miranda asked. “I hope that seeing the nursery didn’t bother her.”
“I think she’s still processing Johnathon’s death. Like all of us.”
“So true.” Miranda stepped over to the bookcase and adjusted the picture.
“Did Andrew say anything else while he was here?” Tara asked.
Miranda turned back and drew in a deep breath, seeming even more tired now than she had when they’d arrived. “He’s a very conflicted man. I’m sure you know a lot about it, but he and Johnathon had a very rocky childhood and they didn’t come out of it with a good relationship.”
“Hard times bring some people together, but it can also tear them apart,” Tara offered.
“Exactly,” Miranda continued. “So, I don’t know. He seemed to be going through the full range of emotions while he was here. He’s definitely still harboring a lot of anger toward his brother. He said something about a botched deal. Which seems crazy to me. To my knowledge, Johnathon and Andrew were not working together on anything.”
Tara was in the dark on that one. “I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of that.”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. I eventually just asked him to leave. I think that’s why he sent the photo. I think he realized he’d gone a bit off the rails.” Miranda paused for a moment and looked down at her feet. “Andrew and Johnathon are very alike. They both have the same temper. You must have experienced that at least once.”
“Absolutely.” Tara realized she might have been too quick to join in, but it was nice to be able to talk to someone who fully appreciated what it had been like to be married to a force of nature like Johnathon. He’d been someone who felt things very intensely and expressed them as such.
“Although, to Johnathon’s credit, the temper didn’t appear very often. Most of the time, he was as loving as could be.”
That hadn’t quite been Tara’s experience, but perhaps Johnathon had gotten better at being a husband the third time around. With Astrid gone, it felt as though it was Tara’s time to leave, as well. “I should get out of your hair. I’m sure you’d love to get some sleep.”
She nodded. “I would. Problem is that it’s impossible to sleep in a house this big when you’re here by yourself. It’s almost too quiet. And I can’t take a sleeping pill because of the baby.”
Tara felt bad. This couldn’t be great circumstances for dealing with her spouse’s death. “Well, hopefully having dinner guests did something to wear you out a little.”
Miranda flashed a smile. In that moment, Tara saw exactly what Johnathon must have loved about her—a warmth that radiated when she chose to share it. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”
“Sounds great.” When they reached the front door, Tara turned to say her goodbye. “Thank you for tonight. And thank you for putting your trust in me. I hope that I can make our shares of Sterling even more valuable.”
Miranda opened the door and leaned against the edge of it. “I just need you to prove to me that this is a worthwhile venture.”
“You mean a successful run at the Seaport Promenade?”
“I mean actually landing it. I know how the culture at Sterling works and if you fail at the outset, nobody will respect you. That’s just the world Johnathon established. Win or go home.”
Tara swallowed hard. She was starting to feel the pressure from all sides. “I’ll do my best.”
“And please. Talk to the city about naming something. I’d really love to see Johnathon’s name memorialized for the entire city to see.”
Once again, she found herself saying that she’d do her best.
Tara climbed into her car, but couldn’t bring herself to start the engine. She stared off into space, thinking about everyone’s competing wants and how she played a role in it. The whole process was so tiring. She slowly lowered her head until she could rest her forehead on the steering wheel. Why did she feel like she was holding the whole world together by a string? Maybe because she was.
Twelve
Win or go home. That was Tara’s new mantra, and it had been for three weeks, ever since Miranda gave her a reality check about working at Sterling. It didn’t matter that Tara had been at the company at the very beginning. It didn’t matter that she personally had a stake. It only mattered that she produced results. She would get only one shot at making the Seaport project happen.
And so Tara had been working her butt off, and she was starting to see some payoff. Seaport was coming together in ways she’d never imagined. Yes, she’d had a vision, but Clay’s experience, training and keen eye had brought in elements she never could’ve come up with on her own. Tara loved being around him and watching him work. He showed flashes of brilliance on a daily basis, which was helping them make up for the condensed timeline they had. The first presentations to the city would take place in a week and Clay’s talent was the main reason they would be fully prepared.
Astrid had been quick to learn along the way and to soak up all the information she could. She had a knack for the small details, and for making sure everything ran smoothly, but Tara had witnessed tension between her and Clay. He’d try to be all business, but Tara saw the way he looked at her in unguarded moments—it was powerful. Frankly, it was a little hot. He’d then be detached and stern with Astrid, as if he was trying to create distance. For Astrid’s part, she seemed oblivious to it, but at this point in her life, Tara figured that male attention must be something Astrid expected, rather than something that took her by surprise. Oddly enough, Tara found herself wanting to play matchmaker. After all, they were both physically stunning, divorced and unattached. Tara could see them together, even when she knew it was the stupidest idea ever. The Seaport project was too important, and romance always made things unnecessarily complicated. She’d learned that with Johnathon. And every day with Grant seemed to be another lesson in just how much business and pleasure did not mix.
It’d been three weeks since their big talk, the one where they’d decided they had to keep things professional and couldn’t give in to their attraction. Since then, each day had been a new test. Tara found it nearly impossible to talk to him. He was still kind to her, but their rapport had gone cold. Gone was the flirting. There was no playful banter, none of the inside jokes, the sexy moments of eye contact or the occasional touch of his hand on her arm. Everything fun between them had evaporated into thin air and she would’ve been lying if she said there wasn’t a part of her that desperately wanted it back.
Tara could’ve made peace with the all-business version of their relationship a little easier if Grant didn’t continue to be so damn enticing. He’d let his five o’clock shadow fill in a bit. It wasn’t quite a full-blown beard, but it did something to make Tara weak. It made the line of his jaw stronger and the dark hair really brought out his eyes. Leave it to Grant to find a way to make himself even more handsome. It wasn’t fair.
It might not be so hard to deal with if she didn’t have the memories of their one night together emblazoned in her memory. She found herself sitting in meetings with him, not concentrating on the important work of the Seaport project, and instead fixating on what his facial hair might feel like brushing against her cheek. Her lips. Any other part of her body he felt inclined to kiss. His presence made her squirm in her seat and be keenly aware of how one flash of his deep brown eyes was like an arrow into her chest. It was not an ideal way to get through the workday. She was spending a fair amount of time searching for air-conditioning vents to stand in front of. Grant had her running that hot.
Yes, she’d been the one to insist that they return to their previous platonic relationship. It was necessary for her to stay focused on business, the one place where she could finally build herself some true happiness and fulfillment. But it was feeling less and less possible. The workday was not enjoyable, even when they were making progress. It was pure stress, all because Grant did nothing to soften the hard edges. She never should have slept with him. She never should have let him get that close to her. She always did better when she kept men at arm’s length. It was the up close and personal that always did her in.
Sandy rapped on Tara’s office door. “Unless there’s something else you need, I’m going to head out for the weekend,” she said. It was Friday and Sandy was headed to Palm Springs for a getaway with her boyfriend.
“Can you bring me the Seaport binder? I’d like to go over it one more time before I head out.”
Pure concern crossed Sandy’s face. “I’ve been over every detail at least fifty times, Ms. Sterling. Clay will have the final renderings ready on Monday. I’ll pull together the presentation on Tuesday, you and Clay can rehearse it on Wednesday and Thursday, and you’ll be ready to go next Friday.”
Tara appreciated that Sandy was an excellent assistant, and it was her job to take care of the minute details that Tara shouldn’t have to worry about. It still didn’t make her any less worried about the things that might go wrong. That had been the advantage of working on her own for all those years as a real estate agent. She got to watch over every point herself. “I just want
to give it one more look while we still have time to make changes.”
“Sure. Of course.” Sandy returned several minutes later with the binder, which she placed on Tara’s desk. “Oh, and I just forwarded that status report on the other project sites you asked me to research.”
Tara had given Sandy a list of parcels of land available for purchase in and around the county and asked her to compile information like listing price, acreage, site limitations and advantages. “Already?”
Sandy smiled. “I figured you wanted it as soon as possible.”
Tara pulled up the email on her laptop, eager to see what Sandy had come up with. Tara wanted Grant to know that the Seaport project wasn’t the end and beginning of her aspirations at Sterling. “I do. Thank you for getting to that so quickly. You’re amazing.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Well, thank you. Have a great weekend.”
“You too, Ms. Sterling.”
Sandy left and Tara got to work, reading over the report and making notes to herself of which sites had the biggest upside, in order to narrow her choices. She wanted to go to Grant with the best possible project, one that would bowl him over and hopefully convince him that she had what it took to be great at her job. She glanced at the clock on her computer when she was finished. It was already nearly six. She got up out of her seat to stretch, knowing it was time for her to call it a day and head home. She should be out on her balcony right now, gazing at the ocean and drinking a glass of wine. The only trouble was there wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for her at home. Just like there hadn’t been in so long.
“One more thing,” she muttered to herself, plopping back down in her seat and opening up the binder for the Seaport project. She carefully scanned the pages of their draft proposal, getting more excited about presenting it to the city next week. Yes, she was biased, but she was proud of the work they’d done. It was innovative and smart. Surely it would be a slam dunk for them to pass this first round and move on to the finals where the sizable field of developers would be whittled down to three. Then they would take feedback from the city, make revisions and submit a final plan.
