Diamond Soldiers

by Pinki Parks

  ‘I … I, you mean it’s the same day? The same time? Charlotte said.

  ‘I think someone’s been breathing in some paint fumes in that cupboard. Good thing Mr. Gribaldi’s away in Europe, but it’s me that’s had to cover for you while the others have asked where you are. I tried calling you, messaging you. Hell, I was going to go around the hospitals in a minute, and now you appear dressed like … like Maria Fitzherbert herself.’ Phoebe said, her anger and relief at seeing Melissa safe and well producing a mixture of emotions.

  ‘So, you’re telling me that it’s December 21st 2017 in New York City, a few hours after I went into the cupboard,’ Melissa said, half talking to herself.

  ‘Wait, you mean you’ve been in the cupboard all day?’ Phoebe said, ‘I shouted for you, hell I even opened the door and looked in, you weren’t in there.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ Melissa said, her thoughts not in the present but in the past, could she have dreamt everything that had occurred in what was nearly a year away from her present reality, yet it was only a few hours that she had been away.

  ‘And where did those clothes come from?’ Phoebe asked again.

  Melissa had become so used to wearing what, to Phoebe’s eyes, were the most outlandishly eccentric clothes, that she hadn’t even thought that she appeared somewhat out of place.

  But the shock of having arrived back in her own time was now subsiding and asserting herself she realised she would now have to resume her role, or rather her actual life, as an art restorer in 21st century New York City, though if being transported back and forth from the Regency period were this easy perhaps it wouldn’t be long before she went back to see how Charlotte was getting along.

  ‘I’m sorry Phoebe,’ she said, ‘I just needed some space, things have been getting to me lately, the whole thing with Danny, and trying to work out what to do with my life, and now Christmas coming, it’s all been kind of too much.’

  Her friend looked at her sympathetically, despite the worry that Melissa had caused her these past few hours, a worry born of a genuine love and affection, she knew that she had been having some difficulties of late, perhaps dressing up in strange clothes and taking herself off some place else was Melissa’s way of coping, after all we all need a bit of escape every now and then, isn’t art one way of doing that?

  ‘Hey, sorry I got mad, doughnut? But seriously, what’s with the dress?’

  The two women sat in front of the portrait of Maria Fitzherbert with the open box of McClusky’s doughnuts in front of them, Phoebe had purposely picked the most glazed and sprinkle topped ones available, and Melissa devoured two in under a minute, forgetting that Phoebe was unaware of what almost a year without doughnuts can do to you.

  Phoebe seemed satisfied with the explanation that Melissa gave as to how she had acquired the dress at the thrift market on Baldwin Avenue off Avon in an attempt to get more into the character of the period from which Maria Herbert’s painting was from.

  ‘I just wanted to know more about how she would have felt and thought,’ Melissa said, beginning on her third doughnut, the corset underneath her dress beginning to tighten.

  As the women finished up for the day, and Melissa changed into the spare set of clothes which she always kept in the store cupboard, and which now appeared firmly to have suspended its inter era travelling ability, she thought about the events of the past months back in the time of Maria Fitzherbert. She had experienced so many things that it was impossible to process them all at once, the sights and sounds, the joys and laughter, the sorrow too which now she felt at leaving Cecil behind. But all of this was tempered by the thought that perhaps one day she might return, and pick up where the story left off, after all it seemed as if she had all the time in the world.

  ‘Drink?’ Phoebe said as she put on her coat and covered over Maria’s painting.

  ‘Sure,’ Melissa said, ‘how about the Duke’s Head?’

  ‘Again? Two night’s running?’ Phoebe replied, ‘I thought you hated it?’

  ‘Well I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.’

  The two women left the museum and walked arm in arm through the snowy streets towards the Duke’s Head. Nothing had changed from twenty-four hours previously when the same scene had occurred. Christmas was still coming to New York City, and around them it was clear that the holidays were nearly upon them.

  The Duke’s Head looked no different from the outside, and Melissa had to keep reminding herself that it wouldn’t do because she had only been there a day or so ago rather than the months that had elapsed in her own mind.

  They pushed open the door and Phoebe led the way inside. ‘Squire James’ was once again serving behind the bar and he gave them a familiar nod as they entered.

  ‘See, we’re locals now,’ Phoebe said laughing.

  ‘Ladies, good evening,’ the Squire said, ‘will it be wine again?’

  ‘You know what, make it sparkling, a bottle of champagne, but not the most expensive one,’ she said, leaning in.

  The Squire smiled and proceeded to uncork the bottle whilst Melissa and Phoebe perched themselves up on the stools at the bar.

  ‘You know, I don’t mind that painting as much now, maybe it was the light last night, but it’s grown on me,’ Melissa said, pointing to the painting of Charlotte’s brother hanging upon the wall and which she knew to have once been far cleaner and more attractive than it was in its present state, though the likeness to the dashing young Duke still left something to be desired.

  ‘Really?’ Phoebe said, ‘I still hate it,’ and she raised her glass, ‘here’s to us. And Melissa, don’t ever bunk off work without me again okay Hun?’

  ‘Deal,’ Melissa said, clinking her glass to Phoebe’s.

  She wondered whether they were missing her back in the Regency, were her sisters searching frantically for her, was her mother sending out search parties through the grounds? Perhaps the Duke had been summoned back from London, and what of Cecil? When he discovered her absence at dinner that night, when she had felt so certain he was about to propose, would he be heartbroken? These thoughts played upon her mind as the evening drew on until the thought occurred to her that if so little time had passed in the here and now during her absence, then perhaps the same was true of that time as well. Perhaps one day she would return and pick up exactly where she had left off.

  But it was at that point that she noticed him, or rather them, for over in the corner of the bar was a small group of men. They looked like city brokers, their sharp suits and the three empty bottles of Bollinger champagne suggesting as much. The bar itself was lively, and until now Melissa had been too absorbed in her conversation with Phoebe to notice much of what was going on around them. The men were engaged in lively conversation, making wild gesticulations and evidently enjoying what was perhaps their last day of trading before the holidays began. But it was not the actions of the group which had caught her eye but two of the participants, both of whom she recognised. One was the man who had tried to chat her up the previous evening, except of course she was more familiar with him being the Marquess of Collingdale, his features matching that of the man who had so unsuccessfully chased her affections these past months. The other was Cecil.

  Except like the man who resembled the Marquess he did not quite resemble the man who loved her, and whom she too had come to love as the months drew on. Rather he had a familiarity of feature about him which convinced her that it was Cecil, or at least a very close approximation, and as she gazed over at the group, ignoring Phoebe’s now inane champagne chatter, he looked across at her. For a moment the two made eye contact and, as for Melissa, a look of recognition flashed across his face. She held his gaze a little too long, as he did hers, and as he broke it, and she looked away in mild embarrassment, she knew that there was a connection there which was more than just attraction.

  A little later in the evening, when some of his companions, including the look-alike Marquess, who thankfu
lly had not noticed Melissa there that night, had left the young man, who appeared so much like her Regency love, approached the bar. Phoebe conveniently went to ‘powder her nose,’ which reminded Melissa of her mother, or rather her Regency mother.

  ‘Hi there,’ the man said tentatively as he approached the bar, ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

  ‘Not at all she said, we were just finishing up,’ She looked over at the painting of the woman which she had quickly pondered with the so called ‘Marquess of Collingdale’ the other night. The young man, Cecil, looking in the same direction to see what was drawing her attention away. ‘A simple portrait of a lady from the Regency, I gather.’ Melissa, with her eyes still on the portrait, ‘Do you think she’s scared and alone?’ He looked away from the painting and laid his eyes on her as though he was about to describe her. ‘You know, people subconsciously tend to interpret portraiture as a mirror of their own characteristics. I think this woman is as a woman who carries herself with integrity and who treats those around her with genuine love, and who is …beautiful and graceful.’ She broke her stare from the painting and landed onto his eyes, he sounded exactly like Cecil. She had carried herself with elegance and grace for nearly a year in the Regency, how she must have changed from the woman she used to be.

  He smiled at her, breaking her stunned look, trying to turn the conversation back to the present, ‘I wondered if I might buy you a drink, it’s Charlie by the way.’

  ‘Oh, nice to meet you,’ Melissa said, ‘I’m Charlot … Melissa, sorry Melissa, that’s me, see what a few drinks does,’ and she laughed.

  ‘Oh, I do that all the time, my mom always called me by my second name, which I hate, but it kind of stuck with me so sometimes I call myself it by mistake.’

  ‘What’s your second name?’ Melissa said, ‘or is that a secret?’

  ‘It’s no secret, just embarrassing, it’s Cecil.’

  Melissa froze, now she knew for certain that all of this wasn’t just coincidence, the painting, the Marquess and now Cecil himself stood right in front of her.’

  ‘I know right, it’s a shocking name,’ he said sheepishly.

  ‘Actually, I kind of like it,’ Melissa said, ‘I’ll answer to Melissa or Charlotte, if you answer to Charlie or Cecil.’

  ‘That works,’ Charlie said, ‘so how about that drink?’

  Phoebe was wise enough to take her time in the powder room and lucky enough that upon emerging she bumped into an old flame who now worked at Goldman Sachs, and who, if truth be told, she’d rather regretted dumping eight months ago over a disagreement about his golfing holiday, and who now seemed more than willing to pick up where they had left off. She had learned from him that Charlie was in fact a very successful business man, at his age, in fact he had made well over a billion last year. Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder towards the bar where Melissa was deep in conversation with Charlie, he was attractive, tall and well built with pleasant features. Phoebe decided to leave her to it, after all each of them could handle themselves if needs be, she’d check in with her before they left.

  ‘I feel like I’ve known you forever,’ Charlie said as he and Melissa enjoyed their third Bellini of the evening.

  She wanted to reply that, whilst not forever, they had certainly known one another for some time longer than the hour they had spent together at the bar.

  ‘I guess it’s good when you just click with someone, and it seems right,’ she said, as they clinked their glasses together. She had to keep reminding herself that she was no longer under the watchful eye of a chaperone, or at least Phoebe wouldn’t mind if she and Charlie kissed before saying goodnight.

  It was getting late now but she could not bear to tear herself away from him, he reminded her of every happy memory in that year past, and she knew that it could not just be through happy fault that the too had now met once again back in New York City.

  ‘Could I have your number?’ Charlie asked, as Melissa finally called a cab.

  ‘Sure, as long as you promise to use it,’ she said laughing.

  ‘First thing tomorrow,’ he said, ‘Christmas or no Christmas.’

  And with that he escorted her from the bar, and out into the cold New York night.

  ‘Well goodnight then,’ he said, ‘I hope I’ll see you again real soon, I’d say it’s been wonderful meeting you but like I said, it feels like I already know you.’

  ‘I think we know each other pretty well,’ she said.

  And as the cab arrived, and a little snow began to fall from the moonlit sky, the two stood before the Duke’s Head and shared their first kiss before bidding each other a goodnight, and a happy Christmas.

  The End.

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  BONUS STORY 4

  Mr. Big Wrench and the Heiress

  Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance

  By Lana DeAngeli

  Synopsis

  Can Ms. Billionaire choose love again after having lost everything?

  Is he able to move on from his greatest love?

  When Brook lost her husband, her fortune… her life, she never thought she would find solace in the arms of a sexy small-town bad boy mechanic. He had more to offer than a one-night stand.

  When Deacon lost the love of his life, he fell apart, unable to let go of the past. His life was at a stalemate until a young gorgeous city girl arrives in his little town. Is she able to nudge him out of his funk?

  When opposites attract, there is no fighting it.

  What happens when two people are brought together to only find out they had more to offer each other than hot steamy sex.

  Sometimes a little tryst can turn your life around.

  Chapter One

  She had left there an hour ago, Brooklyn Amber Tilson still had the smell and taste of the cheap motel room she had stayed in the night before in her nose and mouth. She could have stayed at a decent hotel if there was one nearby. Slim pickings when driving aimlessly. Sweat, the previous guest’s cheap aftershave, and greasy food all combined to layer her skin and clothes with a musky smell that the rest of her family back home in Florida would have wrinkled their noses at if she were there.

  She would have had a shower, but the trap had what looked like a whole head of hair stuck in it and the other couple of odd hairs lurking around the sink and toilet had turned her stomach and convinced her not to spend any more time than necessary in that particular bathroom.

  She could picture her mom now. Tweeds and pearls, prim and proper, sitting on the couch in the immaculate mansion she used to share with Brook’s father, her manicured hands perfectly placed on her tightly clamped together knees.

  “Brook dear, you are the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune, yet you smell like you slept in some dreadful burger bar.” Then she would have carefully placed one forefinger under her nose to indicate her displeasure and returned to her daily, distant perusal of the newspaper.

  She sighed at the thought that eventually, she was going to have to face her family; her parents.

  “Later,” she said quietly to herself.

  They were part of the reason she was driving. A big part. Her husband was another, but she had spent the last two days on the road trying not to think about how he had betrayed her, and she was in no mood to start now. It’s been two days and she still did not know where she was heading.

  The highway stretched away in front of her in one long black straight line fading away in the distance to a backdr
op of shimmering heat haze through which she could just make out the dark shapes of distant mountains. Both sides of the highway were green fields and barns.

  She had barely slept the night before. An inefficient AC unit that sounded like it would explode at any moment, and the energetic and loud lovemaking of the couple in the next room to hers, combined with a logical, to her at least, fear that the room had some kind of bug infestation meant she had lain awake most of the night fully-dressed. She had only dozed fitfully for a couple of hours until she was woken by the bright sun, shining through the thin drapes at the grubby window of her room.

  She needed time to think. Her life wasn’t and never had been her own. She had reached a point when she knew she had to get away from everything, to reflect on how her life came to be and how, now the burden of her ex had been lifted, she intended to live her life in the future. She knew she was serious about it, that it wasn’t just a passing fancy, when she had taken her cell phone from her purse and deliberately left it on the dining table at her home. The maid would find it, surely and may alert the authorities that she is missing. So, she left a note. Gone on a trip. Brook.

  She regretted doing that now but the idea of being constantly bothered by messages, calls, and emails made her gut wrench. No one from her inner circle could help her the way she needed. Mom, dad, her besties Angie and Darcy, her cousin Elizabeth who has been like a sister to her, none of them could or would have the courage to tell her to drop everything and follow her heart. Now that her husband was behind bars and she is in financial ruin, they would show her support and tell her what to do. But they wouldn’t listen to what is going on with her inside. It’s the kind of support that makes you feel like you are in a low place and desperately need someone to hold you up. The kind that makes you feel not alone but when that support leaves the room, you are left feeling empty inside. She was alone and needed to be alone. She needed a clean slate, a new life, a make-over! Two days down the line and she was no nearer to finding her way through the muddle of thoughts that clogged her brain.