“I heard.” Her coworker gave an approving nod. “Congratulations on your new listing. I hear that’s a million-dollar property you just signed.”
“A million two.” Katie corrected her with a playful wink.
Aimee dropped into the wingback chair in the corner and sighed. “Must be nice.”
“Yes.” Katie closed the laptop and gazed into her friend’s eyes. “It’s a great place, Aimee, and I’m so blessed to get it. There’s the most amazing house on multiple acres of land. On the lake. And here’s the thing—with the market so hot right now, I’m convinced it’ll pull in more than the asking price. I’m hoping for at least another hundred thousand before all is said and done.”
“Man.” Aimee shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind taking home 6 percent of a million three.”
Katie chuckled. “Well, get busy! Find me a buyer, and we’ll split the commission.” She reached into the desk drawer and came up with a tube of lip gloss, which she liberally applied to her parched lips.
“You’ve got a deal. I’ll give it my best shot, anyway.” Aimee paused and glanced down the hallway before asking, “Does Hannah know?”
“Are you kidding?” Katie put the lip gloss away. “Of course. She’s always the first to know everything around here.”
“That cousin of yours is a real pistol,” Aimee said. “Ever since she made office manager, she—”
“I what, Aimee?” Hannah appeared in the doorway with an inquisitive look on her face. The slightly overweight thirty-something folded her arms at her chest, lips pursed.
“Um, you’ve turned this whole company around,” Aimee said with a nod.
“That’s more like it.” Hannah’s frown eased its way into a smile.
Katie couldn’t help but smile, too. In spite of her cousin’s tough exterior, Hannah really had done a great job of getting Bucks County Realty back on its feet. Excellent at keeping things—and people—in order, Hannah made a top-notch manager. If only the same positive comments could be made concerning her rowdy children and messy home.
Aunt Emma would surely cluck her tongue in disapproval at her oldest daughter’s habits. Then again, the conservative older woman would likely disapprove of a great many things that went on in Hannah’s house—like fast food for dinner, piles of laundry on the floor, excessive television watching, and children who talked back to their parents when they didn’t get what they wanted.
“I just came in to tell you a new client is on his way in.” Hannah’s words drew Katie back to the present. “An investor, looking to buy up several farms in the area.”
“An investor?” Katie drew in a deep breath. “What is he going to do with all of those properties?” She dreaded hearing the answer. For months now, investors had been sweeping in, buying up prime farmland to build apartments, housing developments, and so forth. Parking lots now reigned supreme, taking the place of the quaint farms of the past.
For that matter, many things from Katie’s past had been replaced, hadn’t they?
She shrugged off her sadness and turned back to her cousin with a strained smile.
“I don’t have a clue.” Hannah said. “I just know he’s interested in the Chandler place, and that’s worth a pretty penny. He also mentioned something about that piece of property off on Wilcox, as well as a couple of others.”
This news stunned Katie. “Are you serious?”
“I’m serious.” Hannah looked back and forth between the two Realtors. “So, which of you ladies wants to court this gentleman?”
There was something about the word “court” that didn’t sit well with Katie. She made a quick decision to step aside and let her coworker take this one. “I just got that new listing,” she explained with an easy lilt to her voice. “Why don’t you take this guy, Aimee? The Chandler place is yours, anyway.”
Her friend’s eyes lit up and excitement laced her words. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m going to have my hands full trying to sweep buyers off their feet with this new lakefront property.”
“If you say so.” Aimee turned back toward the door, almost tripping over her own feet. She looked over at Hannah and asked, “When is he coming in?”
“I told him to be here at four.”
“That’s less than an hour.” With a flustered look on her face, Aimee headed out into the hallway then circled around to pose one more question. “Oh. I forgot to ask. . . .What’s the guy’s name?”
Hannah glanced down at the papers in her hand. “I’m pretty sure he said his last name is Borg,” she said. “I wrote it down. Hang on.” She looked a little closer at the paper, and her eyes grew wide.
“What is it, Hannah?” Aimee asked.
Hannah looked over at Katie, her face turning pale. “I just realized why this name sounded so familiar.” After a brief pause, she stammered, “It–it’s Karl. Karl Borg.”
Karl Borg? Katie’s stomach twisted in knots the moment she heard the familiar name. Could it possibly be the same man?
Regardless, she found herself wanting to run—to leave the building before he arrived. She’d managed it twelve years ago, hadn’t she? Slipping out of her bedroom window in the cool of night had been her mode of operation then.
Avoiding him today might prove to be a little trickier. The windows at Bucks County Realty were far too small—and she might mess up her designer suit.
❧
Karl exited his sports car just outside the office of Bucks County Realty with his briefcase in hand. Slipping away from his law office midafternoon had been a challenge, but he’d finally managed to get here, albeit five minutes late. He paused as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass front door. The wind had done quite a number on his hair. Setting his briefcase on the ground, Karl ran his fingers through the choppy strands then straightened his tie.
Seconds later, he entered the foyer of the Realtor’s office. Once inside, he approached the receptionist at the front desk and asked to speak to Aimee Riley, the woman he’d been referred to. He hoped he had landed with just the right agent. Several pieces of property interested him at the moment, and he prayed he would get the best possible deal on each of them. He would need a savvy Realtor to accomplish that.
As he waited, the receptionist offered him a cup of coffee, which he willingly accepted. He added a couple of packets of sugar then gave it a stir. After a busy day and no lunch break, he certainly needed the caffeine.
One sip, however, convinced him otherwise. The murky liquid tasted burnt. Ironic, since it wasn’t even warm. Unsure of what to do with it, he set it on a small end table and continued to wait. Moments later, a pretty blond appeared in the lobby with a broad smile on her face. “Mr. Borg, I’m Aimee Riley.” She extended her hand, and he shook it. “Please, follow me to my office.”
He grabbed his briefcase then pondered his dilemma as he looked at the cup of coffee. If he refused it, the receptionist’s feelings might be hurt. If he took it, he might actually have to drink it. With his free hand, he reached to snatch it up then trailed the Realtor down a long, narrow hallway.
They entered her office, and Karl looked around in awe. He placed the cup of coffee on the edge of the glass-topped desk and gestured to the artwork on the walls. “This is really nice,” he said. “Reminds me of home.”
“Oh? Do you collect Keller’s paintings, too?” she asked.
“No.” He couldn’t help but smile. “I grew up in a house that looked like that.” He pointed to the farmhouse in one of the paintings.
“Oh, I see.” She gave him a nod. “Well, I’m glad you like it. We’ll take that as a confirmation that you’ve chosen the right Realtor.” She sat at her desk and gestured for him to take the seat across from her. “I just hung the pictures a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty plain in here before that.”
Plain.
As he sat, Karl drew in a deep breath, forcing images from his past behind. All memories of life on the farm brought back painful recollections of the day h
is world had changed forever. The day the woman he thought he would marry had sprinted out of his life, leaving him in the dust. He shook off the memory and placed his briefcase in the empty chair to his right.
With determination eking from every pore, he focused on the task set before him. “I’m here to talk with you about several pieces of property I’m interested in purchasing. I am particularly interested in the listing on Chandler,” he explained. “It’s a beautiful piece of farmland, but it’s been on the market more than ninety days.”
“Right.”
“I plan to make an offer, but it will be far below the asking price.”
He reached for the coffee cup, forgetting it was undrinkable until he’d swallowed a mouthful of the nasty stuff. He tried not to let it show on his face as he put the cup back down once again.
“Ah.” She nodded. “I took a couple of clients out there just last week. I think the asking price is a bit high, and I’m sure the owners—an older couple—will come down if pressed. They’re running behind on their mortgage, so if we move quickly, we might be able to make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
His heart lurched as the news of the late mortgage registered. “If no one buys, will they lose the place to foreclosure?”
“Likely.” She shrugged. “But who knows. These farmers are up one minute, down the next, depending on the weather.”
“And a host of other things,” he interjected. His mind took him back to that awful day, just weeks after his parents’ deaths. As an only child, selling the farm had been his only real option. Karl had sprinted from Paradise— almost as fast as Katie.
“I listed the property several months ago, and there haven’t been many showings.” Aimee continued on, clearly oblivious to his thoughts. “So the goal here is to get it sold at a price everyone can live with.”
They wrapped up their meeting in short order, and Karl stood to shake Aimee’s hand. “You’ve been very helpful.” He offered her a warm smile, grateful for her input.
“I hope things end as well as they’ve started,” she responded. “You never know what’s going to happen in real estate. A situation can look like it’s all wrapped up one minute, then be up in the air the next.”
Her statement left him feeling a little discombobulated. Isn’t that just what had happened in his life? His whole life in Paradise felt completely “wrapped up” as she had said. And then, in one swift move, it had all come crashing down.
With a sigh, Karl leaned down to pick up his briefcase with one hand. Noticing the still-full cup of cold coffee, he reached to grab it, as well. He could always toss it when he got outside.
Aimee ushered him out into the hallway, and just as they neared the lobby, another woman entered the narrow space, papers in hand. He couldn’t really get a good look at the brunette’s face. She appeared to be focused on the documents she carried, not paying a bit of attention to her surroundings. Karl tried to shift to the right at the last moment, realizing she was going to hit him head-on if he didn’t dodge her.
Unfortunately, he didn’t quite make it.
The clipboard in her hand turned out to be just the right height to take out his cup of coffee. The Styrofoam cup shot from his hand, straight up into the air, then back down again.
Landing right on top of her head.
TWO
Katie let out a screech as the cold, sticky liquid oozed its way down her face and all over her expensive yellow suit. “Why don’t you look where you’re—” She looked up into the eyes of the stranger and realized. . .he wasn’t a stranger at all.
Karl.
She watched his expression change—from one of embarrassment to shock. Or was it horror? She couldn’t be quite sure. Either way, he looked like he wanted to bolt. Just like she’d done all those years ago.
If Katie could have avoided this day for the rest of her life, she would have. She had managed for twelve years, hadn’t she?
Hoping to distract herself, she dropped to her knees to rescue the papers, which now lined the hallway. The coffee had done a number on those, too. They trembled in her hand as she fetched them.
Within seconds, Karl bent to his knees to offer assistance. “Katie, I. . .I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault.” She looked into his beautiful blue eyes and instantly felt herself transported back in time twelve years. No, further than that. These were the same mischievous eyes that had drawn her in as a young girl, had wooed her to befriend a pesky neighbor boy who loved nothing more than to tease and torment her with frogs and lizards.
Hmm. He didn’t appear to be hiding any of those in his pockets today, did he?
No, she had to admit. Looking at him now, tall and solidly built with his tailored suit and stylish haircut, he looked to be quite the professional. Clearly, he had left the old ways behind, as well. But when? And why? Had her impulsive actions resulted in that, too?
She managed to gather up the soggy papers and then stand. With his help. His hand—the same hand that had reached to take hers as they crossed the narrow bridge over Pequea Creek all those years ago—steadied her now as she rose to her feet.
“Thank you,” she managed. The heat in her cheeks alarmed her, but not as much as the thought of what she must look like right now. She reached up to touch her hair then groaned. “I. . .I have to go take care of this. I look. . .”
“Amazing,” he whispered. Then his cheeks reddened. He raked his fingers through his blond hair, and his gaze shifted to the ground.
Katie turned toward the ladies’ room.
Aimee followed on her heels. “Katie? Want me to come with you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
As she rounded the corner, she had to admit. . .she wasn’t fine. In fact, after looking into Karl Borg’s striking blue eyes, Katie wondered if she would ever be fine again.
❧
Karl paced the foyer of Bucks County Realty, his mind reeling. For years he had attempted to push all thoughts of Katie Walken out of his mind. He’d done a pretty good job, too. He’d nearly forgotten how pretty she looked when she got riled up. How the sunlight played with the fine strands of blond in her brunette hair. How the early summer sun gave rise to a smattering of freckles on the end of her nose.
But now, seeing those green eyes, hearing the sound of her voice, feeling the touch of her hand in his. . . Surely he would have to work overtime to rid himself of these new feelings that flooded over him.
In all the scenarios he had imagined in his mind, he’d never come close to this. His Katie—once tall and slim with brunette hair pulled back under her kapp—now wore perfectly applied eyeliner and mascara. Her cheeks, once sun-kissed, now shimmered with a store-bought blush, and her full lips, the same lips he had dreamed of kissing for years, were covered in a soft pink gloss.
And that outfit! How she carried herself in it, like a woman, not a girl. Karl didn’t remember her curves being quite so pronounced, but then again, under the straight dresses she’d always worn back in Lancaster County, he wouldn’t have.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what she used to look like then opened them again to merge the two images in his brain. Nope. It wouldn’t compute.
And yet he’d seen it with his own eyes. Katie Walken—all grown up and looking like something straight off the pages of a fashion magazine.
Aimee interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Borg, would you like another cup of coffee?”
“No thanks.” He continued to pace, trying to make sense out of this. Katie worked in a realty office. She sold property. He bought property. It was inevitable they would eventually meet, right? Surely this was all just some crazy coincidence.
On the other hand, he didn’t really believe in coincidences, did he? Most of the coincidental things in his life had proven to be God-incidences, after all. Karl pondered that possibility. Had the Lord moved him to Doylestown to find Katie again? And if so, did she even want to be found?
He took a seat in one of the large wingback c
hairs and tapped his fingers on the end table, trying to figure out what, if anything, to do.
“I’m sure Katie will be fine,” Aimee said with a reassuring smile. “There’s really no reason for you to stay.”
“I have to.”
“Oh. . .okay.” She gave him a curious look then shrugged. “I have some work to do. If you don’t mind. . .”
“No, go ahead. But, please, would you let Katie know that I’m not leaving until I talk to her? I’ll sit here all day if I have to.”
“Um, sure.” Aimee shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
As she rounded the corner, Karl called out, “Aimee?”
She returned right away. “Yes?”
“There wouldn’t happen to be a window in that bathroom, would there?” He began to rap his fingers on the end table once again as his nerves kicked in.
“Well, yes, I think so,” she said, looking confused. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” He leaned back against the chair and drew in a deep sigh. “No reason at all.”
❧
Katie stood in front of the bathroom mirror and worked feverishly to get the stains out of her jacket. Not that it mattered. Even if she got it back in shape, she could do little about her hair.
Gazing at her reflection, she groaned. She wouldn’t want to be seen by anyone in this condition, especially not Karl.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she dabbed them away with a wad of toilet paper. No point in getting emotional. It certainly wouldn’t make things any better, would it? And besides, the past was in the past.
Giving up on the jacket, she took a paper towel and tried to dab at her hair. Hanging her head upside down might be her best choice. She flung her hair forward and tipped over, then took the paper towel and began to work it through the matted strands in an attempt to soak up some of the moisture.
Just then, she heard a rap on the door.
“Katie?” Aimee stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her.
Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue Page 31
