Harte's Desire

by Cambria Smyth

  After putting on a lacy, strapless bra, she slipped into the dress, and struggled to pull up the zipper in the back before assessing her appearance in the mirror. It was perfect. The fitted bodice emphasized her tiny waist while the V-shaped neckline showed her ample bosom to perfection in a dramatic décolleté. The gently-gathered skirt ended just above her knees and had a high cut kick pleat in the back.

  Adding a hand-made ceramic necklace and earrings in an enameled pink design, she gave her glossy blonde hair a couple of quick strokes with the hairbrush, grabbed a small handbag, stepped into a pair of matching shoes, and headed back downstairs in a rush.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Libby sped past the massive entrance gates to Harte's Desire without pausing to admire the gaily painted sign and fifty helium-filled balloons attached to the rusted rails marking the site of the largest single fundraising event ever to be held in Borden's Landing. As her car bumped and lurched over the lane, forcing her to slow down, she finally noticed the many cars parked off to the side. Hundreds of people came, she thought jubilantly. If their large number was any indication, the fundraiser was a huge success! Maybe all the hassles with Chris had been worth it. Because of her perseverance and hard work, enough money would be raised to restore the schoolhouse.

  Libby slowed the car down to a virtual crawl as she came up behind one of the horse-drawn carriages being used to transport guests from their cars to Harte's Desire. Edwina had gotten Chris to give them permission to clean up the three buggies she discovered in the carriage house--they were surprisingly intact and in working order--and one of the historical society members who owned a farm volunteered to provide the horses and oversee the shuttle service.

  Recognizing Libby, the driver waved to her and pulled over to let her pass.

  When Libby finally got close to the mansion, the first thing she noticed were the bright lights shining from the windows making Harte's Desire appear more alive and welcoming than it probably had in half a century. This is how Harte's Desire should be, Libby thought with deep regret--larger than life, vital, serving a unique and useful purpose for generations to come. Unfortunately, the fundraiser was its swan song. The last great party before its walls came tumbling down in the name of progress.

  The realization that the electricity was, indeed, working again snapped Libby out of her melancholy and she let out an audible sigh of relief. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as Connie would have her believe.

  As she drove closer still, she peered anxiously out the windshield, struggling to see the threatening crane causing all the commotion. Odd, she thought as she came within fifty feet of Harte's Desire, the crane would surely be visible now. Not seeing it anywhere, she silently applauded Connie for resolving yet another snag in the plans and decided to give her a raise on Monday.

  Libby was preparing to turn around and go back home when it occurred to her that maybe the crane was still there. That they'd only lowered the boom. Maybe the boom and wrecking ball were laying in the garden, crushing those beautiful roses and forcing guests to detour around its sixty-foot length if they wanted to follow the brick lined path down to the river. What if the boom crushed the gazebo? She couldn't leave until she was sure the offending machine of destruction had been safely, and benignly, tucked out of view.

  Pulling in with a screech behind Connie's car, Libby hastily shut off the engine and headed towards the front door. The warm summer air was filled with the almost-magical sounds of laughter and loud, jovial chatter as people clustered in congenial groups, drinks in hand, on the mansion's open air porches. Strains of music coming from the ballroom added to the festive mood.

  Libby waved brightly to those calling out to her and suddenly wished she were able to join them. Steeling herself against the confrontation ahead, she approached the massive front doors and threw them open with unusual strength.

  She stepped through the entry and shook her head in disbelief, the sight there so unexpected she couldn't accept that it was real.

  The grand entrance hall was magnificently restored to its original, breathtaking splendor. The carved oak staircase rose majestically ahead of her, its missing balusters replicated and replaced, and its varnished finish miraculously cleaned and shining with a brilliance of its own.

  All evidence of crumbling plaster on the walls and water damage on the ceiling had been removed; both surfaces were now smooth and sporting fresh coats of paint in the exact colors revealed by the color analysis Libby had undertaken weeks ago. The marble tile floor had been thoroughly cleaned and polished; somehow, new tiles to match the missing ones had been found and installed. Although there was no sun to illuminate the stained glass window, Libby could see that it, too, had been cleaned and perfectly repaired.

  The huge oak console table had been beautifully refinished and was pulled away from the wall at its former location near the staircase to occupy a place of prominence in the hallway. Precisely where she said it should be. A huge cut crystal vase filled with dozens of red roses sat on its polished top.

  Libby was so absorbed by the room's stunning change in appearance that when she finally noticed the entrance hall was overflowing with roses, she wondered how she ever overlooked them. Roses were everywhere. In vases, in baskets, on stands, in antique urns on the floor. Every color imaginable--red, yellow, pale pink, coral, peach, and white. Libby groaned inwardly when she considered their cost. Hadn't she told the florist to use inexpensive daisies and carnations? And who had restored the entrance hall? Certainly not Chris. The historical society? But why?

  Strangely, the hall was empty, despite the large number of cars she passed on her way in. Where was everyone?

  A placard, standing on a polished brass tripod next to the console table, caught her eye. It invited guests to enjoy coffee, drinks, and conversation in the Rose Room and had an arrow pointing to the left. Her mission to find Chris momentarily forgotten, Libby decided she might find someone there to explain what was going on. She walked down the familiar hallway and entered the Rose Room, only to discover that it, too, had been restored to its original grandeur.

  Although she and her committee had decided to remove the room's valuable antique furnishings, the couches, chairs, and tables were exactly where Libby had last seen them. However, they had been handsomely restored. The upholstered pieces had been carefully cleaned, the years of dust and dirt washed away to reveal the delicate colors and patterns in the original fabric coverings.

  Freshly-cut roses abounded here, too, their sweet scent filling the air and making Libby's senses reel. She hesitantly made her way to the couch she’d nervously sat on at their first meeting, pausing now and then to admire the careful and accurate restoration that had taken place without her knowledge. Libby was about to sit down when Connie's voice sounded at the doorway.

  "Pretty impressive, don't you think?"

  Libby whirled around to find Connie staring at her, a sheepish grin breaking on her employee's face.

  "You knew about this?" Libby asked incredulously, gesturing to the room around her.

  "Yep. All about it."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "It was a surprise."

  "Well, it's a surprise, alright," Libby countered. "More like a shock. This is just how I imagined it would be. Right out of my dreams. I'm not dreaming, though, am I?"

  "Nope."

  "Has Chris seen this yet?"

  "Ah, you could say that," Connie replied evasively.

  "I don't understand, Connie. Who did this? And why didn't I know about it?" Libby moaned as the enormity of the situation finally sunk in.

  Chris would never, ever have sanctioned restoration of any part of Harte's Desire. Sure, he helped out the Orphanage, but only because he felt an obligation to them. And his donation to the schoolhouse project was merely an outright bribe so he could have his way with the mansion. For him to restore even one wall was ludicrous, unthinkable, and totally out of character.

  It must have been someone from th
e historical society willing to try a last-minute, albeit costly, effort to convince him to save the mansion. Libby remembered Edwina's comment about loving Harte's Desire, so she must surely have helped to orchestrate the transformation of the two rooms. With Chris back in Philadelphia, it would have been easy to do without his knowledge.

  But why hadn't they let Libby know what they were up to? Maybe she'd been too vocal lately, and too adamant, about never wanting to see him, or the mansion, again. Hadn't she told Connie as much, on an almost daily basis, these past few weeks?

  Chris must be furious, she reasoned. And rightly so. No wonder he'd brought in the wrecking crane and parked it so close to Harte's Desire. What better way to prove his clearly stated intention of razing her beloved mansion? He probably assumed she was behind this elaborate scheme, as well.

  Suddenly she had no desire to confront him, and his fury, crane or no crane. It didn't matter anymore. She'd beat a hasty retreat and go home. Finish her movie and try to forget she'd ever fallen in love with him.

  "He wants to see you," Connie stated gently, sensing the great emotional upheaval her boss was experiencing.

  "Chris?" Libby confirmed, hoping she'd heard incorrectly.

  Connie merely nodded her head, then added, "He's outside in the gazebo. You'll find him there."

  "I really don't want to face him again, Connie."

  "You have to. He insists you discuss this with him."

  Libby took a deep breath as she prepared herself for the last, great showdown with the man she loved dearly but who obviously had nothing but great hatred for her.

  "Is he mad?"

  "I'd rather not say."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "You'll see."

  Libby paused, frowning. "By the way, where is everybody? I was sure this place would be packed."

  "It is!" Connie replied. "The ballroom is almost standing room only since that's where the food is. Lots of people are out on the porches, too." She observed Libby thoughtfully, noting her sad demeanor. "Cheer up, Lib! It's a huge success! You should be thrilled, and proud, of what you've done here."

  Sensing Libby's reluctance, Connie took her hand and guided her out of the room. "Come on. Let's get out of here. All these roses are making my nose itch."

  Libby eyed Connie speculatively as they wandered through the mansion. "Thanks for helping out tonight. You've been a savior, Connie. And it looks as though you got the electricity working again."

  For a brief moment, Connie looked confused. "Oh,... yes, ah, it was a simple matter of overloaded fuses according to Jim Baxter. Which reminds me," she continued excitedly, “did you know it was his great-great grandfather who took those photos of Harte's Desire? We got to talking tonight. He said he's got a wonderful collection of photographs and promised me he'd look through them to see if there were any of Harte's Desire that weren't in the ones you have."

  They passed through another hallway and headed towards the ballroom. They were almost there when Connie held out a hand to stop Libby.

  "Wait a minute, Lib. You can't go in there. Everyone is going to want to talk with you and it will be midnight 'til you get to the gazebo. Why don't you duck out the kitchen door?"

  Nodding in agreement, Libby followed Connie through the gigantic kitchen filled with cooks, servers, and a vast array of delicious smelling foods. Libby's mouth watered and her stomach growled as she recalled how very little she'd eaten all day. Maybe after seeing Chris she would sneak back in for a bite to eat. If she still had an appetite. She snatched a few hot hors d'oeuvres off a serving tray and popped them into her mouth as she stepped through the back door Connie was holding open for her.

  Libby took five steps before she realized the crane wasn't in the back yard, either. She quickly turned around and called out to Connie who will still watching from the open door.

  "I thought you said there was a crane out here?"

  "Chris will explain everything," Connie yelled back, pointing anxiously toward the gazebo before hurrying back into the kitchen.

  Libby walked purposefully over the brick patio, carefully avoiding the cracks so she wouldn't catch her high heels in them. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was fall and make a complete spectacle of herself in front of Christopher Darnell and the historical society members.

  Although the sun had set an hour ago, the night air was mild and filled with the delectable scent of roses from the bushes surrounding the patio. Every now and then a tendril of fresh, cooling air from the river swept by, carrying aloft its own pleasing fragrance of marsh and meadow. Libby noticed the stars were twinkling brightly overhead and a full moon had just begun to ascend the heavens. It was the perfect night for a party.

  As Libby approached the gazebo, several of the ballroom's French doors opened. Couples spilled out onto the patio and immediately began dancing to the music being played in the ballroom. Notes from a slow, very romantic song washed over Libby, reminding her instantly of the one dance she and Chris had shared not so long ago. Resolving not to let her emotions interfere with the task at hand, Libby peered anxiously through the darkness at the gazebo looming ahead of her. As her heartbeat thundered in her ears, she worried about their impending encounter. What was she going to say to him?

  Discerning a figure seated on one of the benches in the deep shadows under the gazebo, Libby darted up the three steps and approached him. Unsure of what to say. Unsettled by the riot of emotions tearing through her. Uncertain of what was about to happen next.

  She was sure of one thing, though.

  Despite the love she still felt for him, she was angry. Plenty angry. There was absolutely no reason for him to ruin her party with a crane and wrecking ball.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When Libby and Connie finally appeared at the back door, Chris sat fully upright, bruising his spine against the hard iron bench in a painful reminder of the less-than-comfortable seating offered under the gazebo. Muttering an expletive, he watched Libby step out onto the patio, glance around, then call something back to Connie. He couldn’t hear what she said, but he imagined it had to do with the crane she was expecting to see in the yard there.

  Damnation, but it had taken a lot to convince Libby to come over here, and even longer for her to finally arrive. Chris was sorry they had to lie to her, but it was the only way. She’d never come otherwise. He was worried nothing would make her return to Harte’s Desire, but Connie handled the situation beautifully. Heck, if Connie weren’t already working for Libby, he’d hire her himself.

  As Libby gingerly crossed the patio, Chris drew in a sharp breath as he admired the beautiful picture she made. The strapless gown she wore was stunning, not only because its bright color emphasized her blonde curls, but also because it accentuated her perfect curves without looking overdone. He was thankful he’d followed Edwina’s suggestion of ordering a wrist corsage—there was certainly no place decent on her dress to pin the other kind.

  Nervously, he stroked one of the silken rose petals in the corsage he was holding, its softness reminding him of the feel of Libby’s skin against his fingers. Apprehension clutched at his gut as he watched her approach.

  Did she still love him? He hoped so. Or would she reject him like Cynthia had, quickly and cleanly, with no regrets?

  He had to find out, even though it was a monumental gamble. He was used to taking risks. As a real estate developer, he did it all the time. But this sure beat even the most complicated negotiations he’d undertaken. Buildings could be replaced or repaired, but not broken hearts.

  *****

  Libby's first thought was that Chris's date deserted him by the anxious way he was fingering a corsage clutched tightly between his strong hands. She could barely make out his features in the enveloping darkness, but by his stiff, tense posture, she imagined him to be angry and upset.

  She stood at the top of the steps and faced him defiantly.

  "Where's the crane?" she demanded.

  "What crane?"

&nbs
p; "The crane I was told you so conveniently parked back here." She gestured toward the carriage house. "The crane, complete with wrecking ball I might add, that you so thoughtlessly put on display for everyone to see tonight. A 'tiny misunderstanding' in the scheduling office? I doubt it, Chris! You probably ordered it yourself and specifically asked to have it delivered in time for the fundraiser."

  She glared at him. "When you want revenge, you go all out, don't you?"

  As hard as she tried, Libby couldn't read a reaction on Chris's shadowed face. He appeared to be waiting patiently for her to finish her tirade.

  "There is no crane," he said softly.

  "What do you mean there's no crane? I came all the way over here to have you tell me the crane doesn't exist?"

  "That's right."

  "Then I must be going crazy. What about the entrance hall and the Rose Room? Am I only imagining that they've been restored?" She rolled her eyes. "You've got to believe me, Mr. Darnell. Someone from the historical society must have done it. Not me. I had nothing to do with it. It was as great a shock to me as I'm sure it was to you."

  "Actually, I'm utterly pleased with the restoration."

  Chris rose from the bench and started toward Libby.

  She threw her hands out abruptly.

  "Don't even consider getting near me. I can't think clearly when you're close by, and right now I need every brain cell I own to figure this out."

  Libby inhaled sharply when a beam of light from the mansion illuminated Chris's face as he turned to cock his head at her. He was smiling. A warm, compelling, twinkle-in-the-eye kind of smile. The kind of smile she could get lost in. Libby quickly decided he was gloating on having the upper hand on her again.