Free to Dream

by Tracey Jerald

  Taking a final look at my planner and phone to make sure the calendar events are synchronized, I quickly scan back and forth, paging through the week before, letting out a slow, relieved breath. The scheduling is in place with enough time for contingencies.

  Our family business has quite a few events taking place this week. Running a business the size of Amaryllis Events takes not only long hours, hard work, and talent, but quite a lot of planning and organization. Hence, why I’m CEO.

  I suddenly realize it’s after ten and I haven’t eaten. I grab a protein bar, and as I munch my way through it, I jump in surprise when my office phone rings. I wait for the second ring before answering.

  “Amaryllis Events, this is Cassidy Freeman. How can I help you?” I tuck the phone against my chin as I make my way to the other side of my desk.

  “Yes. You can stop showing up for work when we have no events planned and making us look like complete assholes,” my sister Emily complains.

  Out of all my sisters, Em, who is my complete opposite physically, is most like me from a comedic standpoint. Laughing, I sit down in my desk chair for a quick bitch session. I have plenty of time. “I’m not the only one here, Em,” I say mildly. “Phil is here as well.”

  “That’s because Phil’s husband gets up at the ass crack of dawn to leave for work in the city,” Emily smarts back. “Phil just wants to blow out of work early some night this week, I’ll bet.” We both crack up, knowing Em speaks nothing but the truth about our brother.

  “Seriously, Cass, you know if it wasn’t for Jason, Phil’s ass would still be gracing his gazillion thread count sheets. He would be bitching and moaning for one of his precious little sisters to bring him his coffee made to his liking. And like the little worshiping morons we are, we know one of us would succumb to his dumbass demands.”

  My lips tip up before I laugh. “Em, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—thank God he married Jason.”

  “Seriously, Cass, why are you at work on your day off, again?” Em questions, sounding concerned. “Is something bothering you? Is it the dreams? Are they back again?”

  “No,” I lie. “Nothing is wrong. Some of us just like things done in an orderly fashion without rushing around on a Monday or meeting clients unprepared.”

  “One time, Cass. It was one time. And you’ll never let me forget it.” Em’s annoyance with me is clear.

  “Would you let me if I walked into a meeting and didn’t know the name of the client, sister dear?” I kick back and get comfortable in my chair.

  “Fuck no.” And she wouldn’t.

  Em loves to provoke me. She would no sooner give up the chance to taunt me than I would her. It’s just our way. After close to twenty years of knowing each other and living together, I consider it part of our sisterly privilege.

  “Okay, fine. Keep being a bitch about something that happened eons ago,” Em huffs. But she’s in no way offended.

  “Always will.”

  There’s a pregnant pause before Em continues. “Cassidy? I just want you to know I—we—are all here. We always have been.”

  I look at the framed photo of my family on the wall. It’s a new photo, with Jason included. He joined our family after he married Phil over the summer.

  I murmur quietly into the phone, “Not always, Em. But always when it counted. I know that. I’ll see you tonight?” Hopefully I can pull off this charade a little longer—aided by a lot of eye makeup to camouflage the evidence of not sleeping. And maybe a nap.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Phil just called and dinner’s off tonight. He has to meet Jason in the city. Do you want to go shopping with me instead?”

  Phil is in the building. Why didn’t he tell me this himself?

  I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth when it comes to shopping, so I relent. “Let me get home and change.” I run my hand down my leggings and think maybe I need more time to compose myself from last night’s nocturnal events.

  “No worries. Just call me when you’re ready. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Checking our work schedule once more to make sure everything is set for Monday, I make my way out of my office. I know I’ll be walking around the mall for hours with Em.

  As I’m pulling up my gravel driveway a few minutes later, I vaguely wonder why I didn’t see Phil’s car when I left the office.

  It’s about 8:30 when my phone rings. I’m exhausted and running on fumes.

  I’m sorting the bags filled with things Em and I purchased at the Danbury Fair Mall. It might be September, but most of mine are for Christmas, so I’ve pulled storage bins from my walk-in attic to store them. Yes, I’m one of those people. I always have most of my Christmas shopping done by Halloween. Sue me.

  Carefully placing the dangling silver and amethyst stars for Alison aside, my phone display lights up with a call—it’s Phil.

  “You lived up to your nickname of the human whirlpool today, brother. Just needed to get a dose of spinning all our worlds out of order? You and I were both at the office, and even cancelling dinner, you still managed to stir us all into a tither talking about you. Don’t worry though, it was the delicate cycle,” I tease, reaching for another shopping bag. There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Phil? Honey? Are you okay? Is Jason okay?”

  “Sorry, Cass, you cut out there for a moment.” Phil’s tone is lighthearted, but even over the phone I can tell something is off with him.

  “Everything all right, Phillip? It’s not like you to schedule dinner and bail out,” I probe gently.

  “It’s—” He sighs into the phone. “Fine for now. Don’t worry about it.” There’s static on the line, and I realize he’s muffling the phone with his hand to say something to Jason. I’m barely paying attention until I hear my name. “You’re in the office at your normal time tomorrow, right?”

  Um, when am I not? Deciding Phil doesn’t need my dry wit right now, I reply, “Yes.”

  Still distracted, he asks, “Do you have your planner in front of you? I need you to squeeze a new appointment in tomorrow.”

  I laugh at this point. Whatever it is on Phil’s mind has him completely rattled. After all the years we’ve lived together, he should know me better. I typically have my schedule memorized by Sunday evenings for the entire week.

  I want to hear what he’s proposing before I accept and add a new meeting to our schedule. I have a clear conscience as I lie, prompting him to continue. “Okay, I have it. What do you need?”

  “Do you have time in the morning, or would you have to bump a client?” He sounds nervous.

  “My morning is free, Phillip. I didn’t have to look at our schedule, or lack thereof, for tomorrow morning to tell you that.”

  “Can you put down an appointment with a potential new client for 8:45? His name is Caleb Lockwood. Later, you’ll be meeting with his brother.”

  “Lockwood. Why does that name sound so familiar?” I muse out loud.

  Phil’s deep voice has a snarky edge. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because their name is on the side of almost every shipping container you see. At least that’s what one of the brothers does. And both are in the society pages. You know, the Greenwich Lockwoods.”

  I let out a low whistle. No wonder Phil is nervous. The Lockwood family isn’t just a name, it’s the name in Connecticut society. If they are looking for our assistance with any event—big or small—this would be a huge account.

  My stomach starts churning slightly.

  “Of course. How much time should I block?”

  “I would reserve until lunch. I’ll try to explain more in the morning.” He pauses. “I have to go, but you’re the face of this company, Cass. There’s no one we trust to do this more than you.”

  On those parting words, and without saying goodbye (typical Phil), he hangs up the phone. I remain standing beside my bed, absorbing the bomb he’d just dropped. The Lockwoods. They would want and receive VIP treatment, of cours
e. Was the kitchen stocked? I shoot a quick message to our cleaning service to ensure it was restocked last Friday. One ping later and I have confirmation.

  After programming the appointment in my calendar with a reminder set for 7:30 tomorrow morning, I put my phone down.

  The Lockwoods. I wonder what type of event they’re throwing. A fundraiser? A garden party? With a family of their stature, the possibilities are endless. My mind starts wandering into varying scenarios, cost estimates, and vendors. I yawn sleepily.

  Nothing to do now but finish putting away these bins and mentally run through one of a hundred checklists and contingencies.

  And try not to think about how agitated Phil seemed so I can get some sleep tonight.

  2

  Caleb

  My brother is damned lucky I love him as much as I do. Otherwise, I might toss his newly engaged ass off the rooftop deck where we’re sitting.

  The cool snap of fall came quickly, so the deck opposite ours is empty. It’s like these people who live year after year in this climate don’t appreciate the fact that this will be one of the last times they’ll have to use their magnificent spaces before winter comes, bringing snow and frigid temperatures.

  The streets of Tribeca are alive below us, but we’re high enough up that the noise and bustling crowd doesn’t feel like it’s closing in. I still want to pitch my baby brother over the safety rail, but I have to give him credit. This condo he scored for us in the historic Powell Building is amazing. City living wasn’t what I’d expected when I came home from years overseas. But Ryan made the argument with both of us working in New York, putting in insane hours, it made sense to have a place to crash while we were here. At least we’d be able to catch more than just a few hours of sleep a night.

  It’s been more home here than the mausoleum we had grown up in. I’m going to miss it here. When he gets married in a few months, I’ll be moving out.

  It was easy to make the decision to move to New York once I knew Ryan didn’t intend on making the family home he inherited his home base. I had no real emotional ties to the place since my father died before I joined the Army, and Ryan moved out shortly thereafter. Lord knows, my mother is as frigid as the glacier that sank the Titanic. How Ryan could bear to let her live there is a whole different matter.

  I halfheartedly scowl into a face that’s almost an angelic, younger version of my own. Christ, did I ever look that innocent? Maybe back in the early days of college, which is about how old Ryan looks this morning in his T-shirt and lounge pants. With our matching dark hair and eyes, our family resemblance is striking.

  A woman I once slept with said she’d planned to seduce Ry into her bed because at least he had a heart. As I rolled out of her bed and pulled my pants back on, I told her she was welcome to give it a try, but that my brother didn’t go for my seconds. He never had. I smirk at the memory.

  The irony there is that two weeks ago, Ryan ecstatically got engaged to Jared.

  Picking up the coffee in front of me, I take a large drink. “So, let me get this straight. Because of media problems in the past with large events, you want me to go to the office, on a Sunday no less, to do a background check on a wedding planning firm you and Jared are thinking of dropping a shit ton of money on for your wedding? You do realize that’s five minutes of my time and way below what I actually do, right?”

  Ry smiles at me. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I actually figured you could do it from here.”

  Normally, he’d be right. But the investigations my firm runs and the systems we access are either cleared at levels I can’t discuss or not always legally obtained. I refuse, for both legal and security reasons, to use our home computers for work. “It’s in the shop.” I wait for his laughter because he knows I feel helpless without my laptop.

  “Why do you have to have it today?” I argue as I stretch out my legs to get comfortable. I had planned to go to the gym to work out. When I was in the Army, following traditions that could be traced back to the Revolutionary War, I worked out daily. I’d tried to maintain the habit, but I manage instead with four hard workouts a week.

  “Because I’m meeting with one of the owners over dinner tonight.” He reclines in his chair, doing some relaxing of his own. He knows I would do anything for him, including this.

  “Way to wait until the last minute, brother,” I grumble, kissing my long workout goodbye.

  Sitting up, I start to stand when Ry motions me back down. “Relax. This shouldn’t take you all afternoon. I wanted to talk with you about the wedding anyway.”

  “Uh, Ry. You realize you should be talking with Jared, right? I mean, I know I have pretty decent taste, but it’s his wedding too,” I tease.

  He rolls his eyes at me and mutters “asshole” under his breath before taking another drink of coffee. Setting down his mug, he looks me in the eyes. “Stand up for me, Caleb. Be my best man.” He smiles and my mind goes blank. I’m unable to answer him. “You’re already the best man I know. But stand with me when I marry the man I plan to be with for the rest of my life.” His complete trust and faith in me is overwhelming.

  I swallow hard. Jesus. This is like a sniper attack—one shot and I’m down.

  Rolling myself into a standing position, I walk around the table and pull my brother to his feet. Since he had his mug of coffee in his hands, it predictably went sloshing everywhere. As he’s sputtering about the mess, pulling his wet T-shirt away from his stomach, I nab him for a one-armed hug. “Nothing would make me prouder.” My voice is barely a whisper because I can’t swallow over the knot lodged in my throat. “I love you, Ry. And I love Jared for you.”

  “Thanks, Caleb.” Looking into eyes that mirror my own, there’s something there. I’ve seen it for the last few years—a secret he can’t or won’t share. I know he’s hiding something because the same look reflects back in the mirror every morning when I shave.

  My thoughts and memories are wrapped up in government clearances that can never be shared.

  “And as my first act as best man, I will forsake my workout,” I joke to lighten the mood. “I’ll go to the office on a sacred day off to research this firm you want to hire.”

  Ry laughs. “Right. Like if your laptop was working, you wouldn’t be on it today.”

  Busted.

  Ignoring the comment, I ask, “What’s the name of the firm?” Now, I’m actually curious. I knew Ry had planned on proposing to Jared for some time, so I figured he’d been giving this some thought. Our family is wealthy and well-known, but I could not imagine a wedding planning firm requiring a deep level background check unless it was on an employee.

  “An event planning company in Collyer, Connecticut. Amaryllis Events,” Jared, Ry’s fiancé, says from behind me as he makes his way over to Ry. The two of them share a kiss, murmuring their good mornings to each other while I lose myself in thought.

  Amaryllis Events. It conjures up ideas of elegant tea cups with pinkies out, not the psychological warfare combined with lion taming required for events like this wedding is going to need…wait. Did he say Connecticut?

  “Connecticut? Fucking Connecticut? Are you serious? You’re going to have the wedding there?”

  Ry turns from his fiancé to face me with steel and determination in his eyes. And if I’m reading my brother right, vengeance. “I refuse to let her keep me from doing what I want. And if Mommy Dearest doesn’t like it, she can get her ass the fuck off my property. Despite the fact I’ve never wanted to live there, I do own and pay to upkeep the place.”

  “And you’re hiring a company called Amaryllis Events? You should be hiring armed guards, Ry,” I fire back.

  He sits back in his chair, where Jared wraps his arm around his shoulders. “Everything I’ve heard about this company tells me this is the way to go. The CEO and event planner apparently could negotiate a truce in the Holy Lands and make them think it was their idea.”

  Humored by his response, I ask, “How’d you hear abou
t them?”

  “Remember Austin’s wedding? Right after his dad married his personal admin?”

  Austin is one of our friends from high school. I nod as a snort escapes me. “You’re kidding. They organized his wedding?”

  I remember how stressed Austin had been about that wedding. There was talk of sex tapes being released to the media by Austin’s vengeful mother. Board members threatened to vote his father out as chairman of their company, and the press circled like vultures. About a month before the wedding, it was like someone had given Austin a Xanax salt lick. “Hell, why do you need the background investigation? Hire them. That wedding was a catastrophe waiting to happen and you would never have known it.” Literally, I attended with multiple pairs of handcuffs, thinking I might need them to keep the peace. But it went as smooth as honey.

  Ry and Jared exchange a look.

  “Wait, was someone drugged?” I demand.

  Jared laughs, while Ry says, “Nothing like that. I just happen to have an indirect connection to the owners. Before we sink twenty-five percent of the cost of the wedding with the potential for acrimony, I’d like to know more about the business.”

  Twenty-five percent? I’m thinking even I don’t charge my clients enough when the rest of his sentence penetrates. “What acrimony?” My eyes narrow on my brother, trying to siphon the things out of him that he’s not telling me.

  “I’ll let you know after tonight’s dinner, if there’s one at all,” Ry waves off my concern. “So, could you run the background check?”