Chapter 37
The Kemper House had a phenomenal reputation. Bill worked hard to ensure meeting the needs of each guest, from the oldest to the youngest. The expensive Egyptian cotton sheets and Turkish cotton towels, the European goose down comforters and fresh flowers in every room when new guests arrived, terrycloth bathrobes in the shared and private ensuites and mints on every pillow were all meticulously prepared for the guests. Age and gender specifically tailored welcome baskets waited for guests in every room. The Kemper House made the top ten in national travel publications in 2007, 2008 and 2009, and though it was on the upper end of the price range, those who knew of the guest house’s reputation had no problem paying for the lavish perks and the extra attention. Kemper House’s rooms were always full and never discounted.
Bill had gone to tremendous expense to add three new cottages on the closest of the two large vacant lots he’d purchased the year after he bought the bed and breakfast. He extended the gardens, for those who wanted more private settings on the grounds, or for those needing handicap accessibility or pet-friendly accommodations. The cottages were small, but comfortable, with every amenity they could squeeze into them without looking baroque, including wood burning stoves, pillow top mattresses, whirlpool bathtubs and porch swings that each faced a different part of the garden, for ultimate privacy. Separate wheelchair user accessible paths led to each of the cottages. Since he’d taken the first floor rooms for himself and his daughter, he wanted to build something that was handicap accessible. For what it would have cost him to install an elevator and upgrade all the upstairs rooms to handicap accessibility, he built the three small cottages and upgraded the first and second-floor bathrooms to appease the state requirements.
Bill had sealed all the doors onto the balcony when he moved in. Structurally, it needed more support before he could allow guests to walk onto it. There was enough money left from other projects, to rebuild and strengthen the porch that stretched the entire back length of the house, which overlooked the gardens. Then they opened the sealed doors, painted the porch and filled it with conversation tables and outdoor furniture. He knew he had made the right move when it was part of a spread on best bed and breakfasts in Texas Monthly the following month.
Bill took great pride in the Kemper House. And it showed in everything he did, from taking his time showing Destiny how he preferred things, to how he carefully attended to every detail. Bill was pleased, but not so very surprised by how confident and competent she was. Though she knew how to make a bed, he taught her how to triple sheet the beds—and after a couple of tries, Destiny was a master. She learned how to launder the expensive towels and sheets, and where they stored all the luxurious bed and bath amenities. Sydney helped her put together welcome baskets and the specialty baskets for each of the rooms and the baths. Everything was precisely placed and correctly aligned to assure aesthetic perfection. Destiny was amazed at what it took to run their ten-room inn.
Two small Asian women, who barely spoke English but were efficient and affordable, hand-pressed the luxury sheets and pillowcases. Local vendors provided all bath and bedroom products. Subcontractors provided Kemper House’s other services, from pedicures and manicures to full body massages. A local cleaning service cleaned and reset the reception cottage, to exact specifications, daily or weekly as needed. However, Bill showed Destiny where everything was there from cleaning supplies to utilities. Bill had built a fantastic rapport with other local vendors to assure that nothing was left undone. In the seven years he’d owned it, he’d only had one complaint—when a coyote ate one of their guest’s toy terriers. That cost him five hundred dollars and spurred him to add to his contract the stipulation, “not responsible for any pets on premises.”
Destiny was exhausted after her first full day, but happy to have something to do again. Lisa and Andy checked in on her daily, thereafter, even popping in twice a day, some days, after abandoning her there that first morning. Mere days after Destiny’s release from the hospital, Lisa had stopped by for breakfast. She arrived to find Bill teaching Destiny how to make his famous cinnamon rolls. Lisa was excited to see them working so intently together, but she was even more excited to be able to eat the only roll left from that morning’s breakfast.
Sydney, still in pajamas, bounced into the kitchen and right into Lisa’s lap.
“Good morning, Beautiful.”
“Good morning, Lisa,” Sydney beamed as she leaned back against her chest and looked up. “I love your hair.” She looked back at Bill. “Daddy, can I get hair like Lisa’s?”
Bill gave an exaggerated shudder as he looked from Lisa to Sydney and back. “Not unless you want never to leave your room.”
“I’d be okay with that,” she grinned. “I have enough books to keep me busy for years. And I’ll grow my lavender and green and blue hair out until it’s as long as Rapunzel’s.”
“And the prince will climb your hair to the third story balcony and sweep you off your feet and ride away,” Lisa continued.
“On his amazing purple horse,” Sydney finished.
Bill furrowed his brow.
“My story, my pick on the color.” Sydney batted her eyes playfully.
“You can have any color horse you want,” Bill began, taking the leftover cinnamon roll from the microwave and serving it to Lisa. “But as long as you live in this house, your hair color is natural, and there’ll be no climbing through any windows by anyone of the male persuasion now or any time before you’re thirty years old.”
“Oh, Daddy.” Sydney rolled her eyes.
Lisa smiled and whispered into her ears, “You’d look beautiful in lavender hair.”
“I heard that,” Bill said sternly. “Don’t encourage her.”
Destiny watched their playfulness. It reminded her so much of her own family dynamic. Phillip had been the instigator in their family, taking advantage of every moment to start something in the household. Whether it was putting sugar in Rhett’s bed and then pointing accusingly, secretly, at her when he didn’t think she was looking, or tying Rhett’s doorknob to the one across the hall so that he couldn’t get out of his room. Phillip did that only once since Rhett tore the screen out of his window to get out of his room, just to prove to his dad that he could. Then there were the soaker gun fights. One never knew from where they would be attacked. Destiny smiled, both at what she was watching, but also at what she remembered.
“Are you coming to my party Saturday?” asked Sydney.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Lisa replied, tearing off a piece of the warm roll and savoring it.
“We’re riding horses.”
“Yeah, you ride. I’ll watch.” She looked at Bill. “I don’t do horses.”
“Destiny does!” Sydney exclaimed, proudly.
“Good for Destiny. Lisa will watch you and Destiny ride while she sips margaritas by the pool.” Lisa eyed her friend.
“There’s no pool, silly,” Sydney chided.
“And no margaritas,” Bill added.
Lisa snapped her fingers. “Darn it. What kind of party is this, anyway?”
“A nine-year-old’s birthday party,” he reminded her.
“I remember your ninth birthday party.” Destiny smiled wryly.
“Yeah, we won’t talk about that.” Lisa shoved more cinnamon roll into her mouth.
Bill leaned onto the small mobile wooden island in the center of the room. “Do tell.”
Destiny grinned. “Well, let’s just say it involved a missing bikini top and twelve euphoric nine-year-old boys.”
Everyone started giggling, except Lisa. “Yeah, and one naughty little seven-year-old. Your baby brother, who thought it would be funny to remove it.”
“You had a bikini when you were nine?” Sydney asked, enviously.
“Don’t even think about it, young lady! You’re lucky I don’t put you in one of those bathing suits from a century ago; that go all the way down your legs and your arms.”
Sy
dney rolled her eyes, the action not missed by her father.
“Yeah, you only think I’m kidding. Why don’t you play or read or better yet, clean your room?”
“Why do I have to? I want to stay and talk to you guys,” she pouted.
“Okay, I guess we’ll just not discuss planning your party, then,” Bill sighed dramatically.
Sydney leaped from Lisa’s lap and hugged her, then rushed from the room.
“What are you giving her for her birthday?” Lisa asked.
Bill glanced around the corner, ensuring his daughter wasn’t standing in the hallway, listening. “I bought Peanut, the pony she rides at the farm,” he said in a lower voice,
“Oh, Bill! She’s going to be so excited.”
“You’re such a pushover.” Lisa stood and wrapped her arm through his. “But, you’re a good dad. I mean, you’d do anything for that sweet little girl in there. Wouldn’t you?” she asked slyly.
“What are you getting at, Lisa?” Bill eyed her questioningly. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“I want to do something special for her birthday if you’ll let me.” She watched him lean back on the counter and cross his arms. “Don’t you trust me?” she asked, a Cheshire Cat grin on her face.
He narrowed his eyes, pensive, as he turned to Destiny. “What do you think? Should I trust her?”
Destiny crossed her arms as well, playfully scrutinizing her friend. “I don’t know.”
Lisa looked at Destiny. “Traitor!” She took her jacket off the back of the chair. “That’s fine.” Lisa batted her eyes at Destiny then hugged her before turning and kissing Bill on the lips. “I’ll see you next Saturday.” She grinned mischievously before walking out the door.
Bill shook his head and smirked. “Why do I think she’s going to hijack our party?”
Destiny smiled, pouring herself a cup of orange juice. “I’ve known her for twenty-two years. I guarantee you she’s going to hijack your party.”
Bill shook his head nervously.
“Relax.” Destiny wrapped her arm through his. “Don’t worry.”
“Relax, she says,” he exhaled.
Destiny casually leaned her head against his arm, and suddenly he did relax. And he forgot about Lisa and Sydney and the party. He forgot about work. He forgot about everything else in the world.
Chapter 38
Bill stood in the shadows watching his daughter as she slept. She was the most precious thing in his life, and she was growing up so fast. He stroked her head, much like when she was tiny and fragile in his arms. He remembered her first birthday. Her soft auburn curls had danced around her face as she stood in the chair beside the table. The economy was shaky. He had just gone out on a limb and sunk every penny he had into his purchase of the Kemper House and the two lots next to it. Justine had just served him with divorce papers, or rather, her attorney had them served. Justine had already been out of the picture for months. He hadn’t talked to her or heard from her at all. She had simply disappeared from their lives. She had even taken the pictures. All he had left was Sydney.
Bill had bought her a small birthday cake at Walmart. It was just Sydney, his mother and him. It was quaint and sweet, and he would remember it for as long as his mind would allow him to remember. Sydney had no clue what all the hoopla was about. All she knew was that there was something in front of her that flickered. Sydney had been mesmerized by the candle and cried when they helped her blow it out. So, they lit it again and let it burn down before blowing it out again. They went through three candles until she realized that what was under the candle was even more exciting. His daughter put her hand smack into the middle of the cake and grabbed, mashing cake and icing through her fingers. She continued until she realized it was food, and it was sweet. He remembered what a mess she was, and how neither he nor his mother were interested in eating the cake after that. Sydney had managed to demolish it in a matter of minutes, like she was playing with a bucket of mud, wearing more of it than she had eaten.
Bill reached over and kissed her on the head before leaving her room, carefully closing the door so as not to wake her. He and Destiny had bowed out of serving at the senior center that evening since tomorrow was such a big day and they would be heading to the farm early to set up. Bill smiled to himself—his little girl was about to be nine years old! Suddenly, as he turned the corner, he ran right into Destiny, who was carrying a lemon meringue tart that he had made as a snack for the guests that afternoon. After running into Bill, she was now wearing it. Bill apologized, at the same time trying very hard not to laugh. Destiny immediately walked back into the kitchen and set the plate in the sink, leaning over it so that the contents, which she now wore, landed in the sink as well. Bill followed her silently, then stood beside her as she tried to figure out the best course of action. He turned on the water, leaned over her and extended the sprayer. As the hose extended, it became twisted. Attempting to straighten it, he accidentally sprayed Destiny square in the face. She screamed, more from shock than from the cold water.
“Oh, God,” he laughed. “I’m so sorry.”
“You did that on purpose.” Destiny grabbed the sprayer from his hand, pretending like she was going to squirt him. Then she narrowed her eyes to reprimand him, as she turned back to the sink. Stretching her shirt over the sink, she sprayed the meringue, crust and lemon curd from the front of it.
“You know, I do have a washing machine,” he reminded her, grabbing a hand towel.
“Yeah, but this one needed a garbage disposal.” Destiny continued to lean over the sink.
“Why don’t you let me help?” he asked as he dabbed her face and neck with the towel.
“I think you’ve helped enough.”
He tossed the towel onto the counter, unbuttoning his flannel shirt as he spoke.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as he undressed.
“Here, put this on.”
“I can’t wear that.”
“Put it on. Please. I’d rather you don’t walk through the house soaking wet.” He turned his back to her, holding his hand backward with the shirt in it, shaking it.
Destiny stood leaning over the sink, her entire shirt soaked. She felt her skin bristling as it became chilled. Slowly, she pulled her long sleeved shirt over her head and dropped it into the sink.
When she didn’t take the shirt right away, he glanced around slightly and saw her standing there in her bra. He turned back suddenly, embarrassed as she grabbed the shirt from his hand and slid it over her slender frame. A few moments later she said, “You can turn around now.”
Bill turned, and Destiny sprayed him right in the chest. Bill jumped back, startled, staring at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that!”
“Really,” she laughed. “Like you accidentally sprayed me?”
“I did!” he exclaimed, as he tried to dry his soaked undershirt with the small dish towel. He looked at her. “Can I borrow your shirt?”
Destiny chuckled. “Not a chance,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but I’m not as gallant as you are.”
“It’s okay.” Bill pulled his undershirt off and then dried himself with the small dishtowel.
Destiny stopped chuckling as she watched him mop his well-defined chest with the towel. Her heart began to race. She found herself looking at him, checking him out, as Lisa would say. Though her mind told her to stop looking, her eyes wandered, from the wisp of hair above his jeans to the soft matting of hair across his broad, muscular chest. Slowly her eyes traveled to his. When she found him looking at her as well, she quickly averted her stare.
“Sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around her stomach, the sleeves of his shirt hanging loosely over her small hands.
Bill stepped toward her, his hands on her shoulder, traveling down her arms until arriving in her hands. He took one in his, their eyes meeting again as he rolled back the cuff of the sleeve, once, and then twice. Bill raised her hand to his lips, turning it over. Destiny su
ddenly blushed, pulled her arms away and looked down as she wrapped them around herself again. Gently he unwrapped her arms, raising one to his lips, kissing her palm, then the heel of her hand—his kisses moving up her wrist to the straight scar across it. At first, she tensed, but then he felt her relax in his grip as he completed buttoning her cuff.
Tentatively Bill took her other hand in his, kissing it tenderly, as he had the first. As she allowed him to unfold her hand, he brought it to his lips, kissing it sweetly. Destiny looked up into his eyes.
“So much pain,” he whispered as he kissed the scar on her other arm, before also folding the cuff and buttoning it. Bill kissed her hand again. “If only I could kiss away all your pain,” he cooed.
Destiny smiled sadly. If only, she thought.
Slowly his fingers slid back up her arms to her shoulders where they straightened her collar, before roaming her arms again. He shook his head as he drew in a deep breath. “How is it you look better in that shirt than I ever could?”
Destiny turned from his grasp back to the sink and then wrung out her shirt, setting it into the dish drain as she pushed the remnants of her late-night snack into the garbage disposal. “That was the last tart, too,” she whined.
“You like lemon meringue pies?”
“They are my favorite,” she pouted.
“I’ll make you another one.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He stepped to the sink, crowding her, as he wrung out his shirt and set it beside hers. “I’d love to…” he began, nervously, “do that for you,” he finished.
Destiny glanced up at him. His eyes were so kind—warm and inviting.
His hand slowly slid across the sink and found hers. As it covered hers, he squeezed.
“Bill,” she began, looking down at his hand on hers. “You’ve been so good to me.”
Bill waited for the “but.” It never came.
Destiny by chance: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel Page 21
