A New Foundation

by Rochelle Alers

  “What about Viola?”

  Taylor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I’m hoping she will eventually come around. But, if she doesn’t then I’ll contact culinary schools to recommend their best graduates.”

  “You really have everything figured out, don’t you?”

  “I have to. I owe it to my dad to fulfill his last wish to my mother.”

  Sonja noticed Taylor’s voice had changed when he’d mentioned his father. There was no doubt the two had been very close. She wanted to tell him that she would do whatever she needed to help him fulfill his father’s final request to his mother. “And I promise to assist you in making Bainbridge House a pretty girl again because she’s been neglected far too long. She may have a little dinge, but it’s nothing we can’t get rid of.”

  He gave her skeptical look. “Are you saying Bainbridge House is a girl?”

  “Of course she’s a girl. Are you familiar with the French term belle époque? It means beautiful epoch.”

  “I’ve read about it. But that was a long time ago.”

  “It is a period in French history dating between 1880 and World War I, and because Bainbridge House is designed as a French château built in 1883 and falls within this architectural era, I think of her as a girl. But after she has been restored both inside and out she will once again become a stunning woman flaunting her beauty for those stopping long enough to marvel at her.”

  Taylor crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want you to take offense because this may sound sexist. Once the exterior of the house is power washed it will appear pink, and traditionally that’s a color usually attributed to girls.”

  “I’m not offended, Taylor. I happen to like the color, and if I ever have a girl I’ll definitely would dress her in pink.”

  “You want children?”

  Sonja went still, meeting his eyes. There was something in Taylor’s query that annoyed her. Did he believe she was so career focused that she eschewed motherhood? Even before she’d agreed to marry Hugh Davies, they’d talked about starting a family after she’d earned her degree. She had become Hugh’s second wife, and although he was nearly twenty years her senior he claimed he was looking forward to becoming a father for the first time.

  However, Sonja had known before they’d celebrated their second wedding anniversary that she had no intention of bringing a child into a hostile environment where his or her parents spent more time arguing than making love. Now, as a single woman, her plan was to have a career and children. Rather than give birth, she would foster and eventually adopt an older child or children.

  “Yes. I plan to adopt.”

  “Good for you.”

  She was taken aback by his response. “Good for me?”

  Taylor unfolded his arms and rested both hands on her shoulders. “Yes. There are too many children languishing in foster care that need a forever home.”

  With wide eyes, Sonja stared at Taylor like a deer caught in the bright beam of headlights. She couldn’t help comparing him to her ex-husband. On a scale of one to ten Hugh came in at a low-two while Taylor was a ten. She’d found him to be open-minded and nonjudgmental. And, more importantly, he wasn’t a sexist.

  “You would rather adopt than have your own biological children?” she asked.

  Sonja’s question gave Taylor pause when he recalled his own upbringing. Elise was unable to have children, yet that hadn’t stopped her from becoming a mother of five. “There’s no reason why I couldn’t have both, Sonja. A lot of couples have blended families with biological kids and adoptees of different races.” He didn’t tell her that he was talking about his own upbringing and family.

  During a heart-to-heart discussion with Elise during one of their first Sunday meetings, she’d asked him if he ever intended to marry or if he wanted to father children. Taylor had been forthcoming when he told her yes to both. He wanted to fall in love, marry and start a family. And it didn’t matter whether he fathered or adopted them. Elise had become emotional when he told her he knew he would become a good father because she and Conrad were the best role models for him to nurture the children he’d hoped to have.

  “Do you realize you’re an anomaly.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I’ve met a lot of men that claim they prefer fathering their kids to adopting someone else’s.”

  “I don’t see a problem with that, Sonja. What I take exception to is their not taking care of their kids. Sometimes it is impossible for couples to live together, but that doesn’t excuse a man from not having a relationship with his kids. Too often it becomes out of sight, out of mind.”

  Taylor didn’t want to go on a rant and talk about men he’d known who were serial fathers and had felt the need to impregnate every woman with whom they’d had a relationship. And then there were those who were missing in action once a woman revealed she was carrying his child. It had had happened to his biological mother, who’d lived with her boyfriend, and once she discovered she was pregnant and told him, he disappeared. Aware of the circumstances surrounding his birth, Taylor had made it a practice to develop a relationship and always use protection whenever he slept with a woman.

  He released Sonja’s shoulders and took a step back. He’d enjoyed touching her, inhaling her sensual perfume and staring into the large dark eyes brimming with confidence. In fact, he’d enjoyed it much too much for him to remain emotionally disconnected.

  “Now that we’ve established that Bainbridge House is a girl, I’d like to ask how you would decorate this bedroom to make it appear less crowded.”

  Sonja pressed her palms together. “The round table and chairs will have to go, and the armoire should be moved, facing the bed. Shelves in the armoire have to be removed if you want to install a flat screen. The console table, doubling as a desk, could be positioned under the window to take advantage of daylight. I suppose the bedside tables can stay where they are.”

  Taylor knew Sonja’s suggestions would make the room less crowded and more inviting. He walked over and opened the door to a walk-in closet. “There’s plenty of space for clothes and storage.” He opened another door to the en suite bathroom. “Come, Sonja, and check out the bathroom.”

  Sonja stood next to him and snapped a picture of a sculptural sink on a ribbed column with brass fittings and a deep soaking claw-foot bathtub also with brass fittings. Then she took photos of the commode and bidet. “There’s a fireplace!”

  “The original plans included fireplaces in every bathroom suite on the first and second floors.”

  “Why only those two floors, Taylor?”

  “Anyone that was a Bainbridge occupied the first two floors. The upper ones were reserved for guests.”

  Sonja laughed softly. “Were they trying to send a message that they didn’t want their guests to wear out their welcome? Taking a bath in an unheated bathroom in the dead of a northeast winter had to be torture.”

  “I agree. Revised plans dated 1912 included running water and the installation of central heating.” Taylor knew the house’s electrical system had to be upgraded and Wi-Fi capability added, and the plumbing had to pass code before Bainbridge House could be licensed as a hotel.

  “What are you going to do with the water closets?” Sonja asked.

  “Convert them into spaces to keep linens and cleaning supplies for the housekeeping staff, and stockrooms to store personal products for the restrooms. The house has two elevators, but I won’t know if they’re operable until they have been inspected. We’ll probably need two more elevators, but I’ll have to confer with the architect to determine where they will be located.”

  “When you open Bainbridge House as a hotel and wedding venue, what will be the capacity?”

  Taylor pinched the bridge of his nose as he attempted to recall the original floor plans for several rooms. “I believe the larger ballroom can hold three
hundred and the smaller one somewhere around a hundred. I’m considering making modifications to the bedrooms. I’d like to remove walls to convert them into connecting suites. Right now, there are one hundred bedrooms and I doubt whether we’ll be able to book that many rooms at any given time.”

  “How many connecting suites are you talking about?”

  “Probably seventy-five. Bainbridge House has gone through a number of architectural and structurally modifications since 1889 and must undergo even more to make it viable as a business.”

  Sonja nodded. “Most of these mansions have servant quarters. Do the plans include one?”

  “Yes. In fact, it is quite large, which may indicate the Bainbridges needed a full staff to keep the house operational. Once you go through the documents, you’ll have to let me know how many were in their employ.”

  “I recall you saying something about cottages.”

  Taylor realized Sonja had remembered a lot of what he’d told her. Then he realized she must have an incredible memory if only to be able to identify thousands of years of relics and works of art. “The caretaker lives in one, which leaves five unoccupied.”

  “Does he live there with his family?”

  “No. He’s not married.”

  “What do you intend to do with the other five?” Sonja had asked yet another question.

  Taylor’s plans for the cottages included turning them into family residences. “Unlike the Bainbridges who occupied the first two floors in the main house, I plan to live in one of the cottages.”

  “What about the rest of your family?”

  “We’ll see when that time comes. The floor plans show one large bedroom and two smaller ones. There’s also a kitchen, bathroom and an area for a living and dining room.”

  Taylor talking about the cottages had Sonja wondering what they had been used for when there was more than enough space in the main house to accommodate friends, guests and family members. If they weren’t occupied by tenant farmers, then the only alternative could have been for guests who had insisted on complete privacy, or men of wealth and privilege who’d sequestered their mistresses on the property away from the prying eyes of their wives and her friends.

  “Maybe the next time I come I’d like to see inside one,” she told Taylor.

  “I’ll make certain they’re cleaned and aired out. Do you want to see a bedroom on the third or fourth floors?”

  “No. I’d rather to go up to the turrets and look out over the property.”

  Taylor reached for her hand, and Sonja felt a slight shiver sweep up her arm. Whether Taylor was assisting her in or out of his SUV, resting his hand at the small of her back or touching her hand, it had become a struggle not to pretend she was a heroine in a romance novel and he the hero, and they would live happily ever after. Everything about him made her feel safe and protected. However, she had to remind herself she wasn’t a character in a novel, but a real flesh-and-blood woman with deep-rooted trust issues when it came to men.

  When she’d first walked into Professor Hugh Davies’s classroom Sonja had been awestruck by the middle-aged man with the handsomeness of leading men in 1940s and 1950s movies. And when she’d glanced at the other female students, she realized their reaction was like hers: they were mesmerized. Professor Davies was the total package: tall, slender, perpetually tanned, and he’d been blessed with a velvety baritone voice.

  He periodically conducted a slideshow quiz, and students were required to name a painting and painter or piece of sculpture. Because she’d been able to identify each slide every time, she’d believed he had taken a special interest in her whenever he’d asked her to stay after class to discuss her grades. Her fellow students were unaware she’d grown up visiting European medieval cities with museums and churches displaying priceless artifacts.

  Her passion with art also extended to photography and she owned coffee table books depicting black-and-white photographs of the celebration of Black culture and the struggle for freedom dating from 1840. Many of the photographs were now a part of the Smithsonian.

  As a twenty-year-old art major at Boston College, Sonja hadn’t realized she was in over her head with Hugh until it was too late. She hadn’t told her mother she was involved with one of her professors until after they were married. There was complete silence on the other end of the call, and then the sound of a dial tone. Her mother had hung up on her. Telling Maria that Sonja had become the second wife of a man old enough to be her father had shocked and disappointed her mother. Her father’s reaction was different. He’d wished her well. It was what he’d said next that proved prophetic. He said because she was an adult and responsible for her own actions, she had to be willing to accept all and any consequences of her marriage.

  Although she thought of Taylor Williamson as the total package, there was no way she would allow her heart to rule her head. She’d married once, and that was something she did not want to repeat. Been there, done that. And she didn’t need a man in order to have a baby because she had the option of adopting.

  She glanced up at Taylor when he tightened his hold on her fingers as they climbed the winding staircase to the turrets. She noticed he wasn’t breathing as heavily as she was from the exertion, which indicated he was in excellent physical condition.

  “Do you work out?” she asked him.

  He smiled at her. “Yes. There’s a sports club for the residents in the development where I live.”

  “You told me you’re moving into your mother’s house. Is there space there where you can work out?”

  “Yes. She has a condo in a gated development with a lot of on-site amenities. She’s still staying at the house where I grew up. It’s now on the market, and she’s waiting for someone to buy it.”

  “Mortgage rate are low, so right now it’s a buyer’s market.”

  “True. But it’s not your traditional three or four-bedroom home. It’s a five-thousand-square-foot farmhouse built on four acres with an in-ground pool and tennis and basketball courts. With six bedrooms and seven baths, it would be perfect for a large or extended family.”

  Taylor’s revelations that he’d lived on what Sonja thought of as an estate now confirmed her suspicions once she and Viola had become friends. Her friend had grown up privileged. Viola had revealed she and her brothers did not have to apply for student loans to subsidize their college tuitions and that her father had paid her rent on her West Village apartment until she’d secured permanent employment. Viola had also hinted her father had inherited a small fortune after the death of his parents, while Taylor had admitted his grandparents had set up a trust for his father, which he was able to gain access to at twenty-one. Even if Taylor hadn’t grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, it was purported he’d earned a great deal of money as a top male model.

  Viola would talk incessantly about her brothers in glowing terms that made Sonja slightly unhappy she didn’t share the same closeness with her brother because of their ten-year age gap. Viola said one of her brothers had married, but the union did not last a year, and another had recently proposed to his long-time girlfriend, while Taylor and another brother were still single. And she was adamant that Taylor did not want to be introduced to any of her gal friends, and the one time she ignored his warning he’d read her the riot act. Sonja was quick to tell Viola that she echoed his sentiments. She didn’t want or need a man at this time in her life because her career took precedence over any relationship.

  Sonja felt the muscles in her calves straining from climbing the staircase. “Will you continue to live with your mother once she sells her house?”

  Taylor stopped at the top of the staircase and opened a narrow door. He walked in, glanced around and beckoned her to follow. “Yes. My mother is scheduled to take an around-the-world cruise. She says if she doesn’t sell the house before August, then she’ll close it up. I promised her I would check o
n it at least once a week.”

  “How long is her cruise?”

  “Two hundred forty-five days.”

  “Well, damn,” Sonja whispered under her breath.

  Taylor chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “That’s what I said when she first told me about it. She claims she’s making up for all the times she asked Dad to go on cruise with her, hoping he would change his mind about his parents’ boating accident. Now that Dad’s gone, she’s convinced her best friend to be her cabinmate. They met as college roommates, and their friendship has spanned fifty-plus years.”

  “It’s not often people remain friends that long. Either they move to another city or state, or their lives change once they marry and have a family. Most times, it’s like life gets in the way of maintaining a friendship of that duration.”

  “Life got in the way and that’s why you want nothing to do with men?”

  Her jaw dropped and her mouth opened, but no words came out. She wondered if Viola had disclosed to Taylor the details of her failed marriage. Viola Williamson was as close to a friend that she could count or rely on, yet when she’d poured out her heart to the chef about how she’d allowed her husband to turn her life upside down, she hadn’t told her to keep the conversation between just the two of them.

  “Who said I want nothing to do with men?” Sonja knew she sounded defensive, but at that point she didn’t care.

  “You did in so many words, Sonja. You’re not married, don’t have a boyfriend, and you plan to become a single mother. To me, that translates into you being content to live your life alone.”

  She glared at him. Taylor had no right to attempt to psychoanalyze her when he knew very little about who she was. “You make it sound as if I’m a man-hater,” she spit out between clenched teeth as she struggled not to lose her temper.