Heartstrings (Brody Hotel Book 2)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Tabs nodded. “I just want to have a normal life. And now you know my deep, dark secret.”

  Tony shook his head and chuckled. “So much for me trying to impress you.”

  “You were trying to impress me?”

  He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Of course I want to impress you. I’m just going about it all wrong, aren’t I?”

  She was flattered that he’d even want to try, and that was before he knew who she was. “Money isn’t my thing—I’m sorry.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You want me to tell you so you can keep trying to impress me?”

  “That was the plan.”

  She considered that while she ate an egg roll. It was lobster—delicious. “I’d like to get to know you—not this fancy dressed-up dude sitting across from me,” she said, waving a hand at him. “What are you like on the weekends when you’re just kicking back?”

  “I like to rock climb,” he said. “And do a little rafting.”

  “See? That’s so much more interesting already.” She picked up another egg roll. “Movies? Music? Pet peeves?”

  They chatted for the next hour about this and that and the other thing, and Tabs was glad to see him relax. He was so much more attractive than he already was when he wasn’t trying to impress or be charming—when he let down his guard, he was charming naturally.

  “Thank you for lunch,” Tabs told him as they walked back out to the car. “This was nice. I liked getting to know the real you a little better.”

  “Maybe the real me should take you to dinner sometime next week,” he replied.

  “I think I’d like that.” Yeah, she’d like that a lot.

  Chapter Two

  Griffin Baker stood under the apple trees, sketchbook in hand, finalizing his drawing of the east wall of the new wing. This wing would be where all the conference rooms would be located, as well as the tower with the other guest suites. Marissa was waiting for him to provide her with dimensions on those suites so she could finalize her design plans, and he’d have those for her the next morning. Each room would be identical, unlike the rooms in the main hotel, which had their own themes. Flowers, from what he understood. Sounded a little girly to him, but he wouldn’t be staying there, he didn’t think, so it didn’t matter.

  What did matter was keeping his mind on the job, and he was having a hard time with that. Seeing Marissa again had been okay—they’d managed to put aside the awkwardness, and now they were working together well. But Tabs . . . that was another story entirely.

  He rubbed his right temple with the back of his hand and kept drawing. He couldn’t believe what an idiot he’d been before. First off, by asking Tabs out, he’d broken the invisible girl code, the unwritten rule that says girls can’t date their best friends’ ex-boyfriends.

  No, wait. That was his second mistake.

  The first one had been falling for Tabs at all.

  It’s not like he’d been interested in her while he was dating Marissa. Even he wasn’t that much of a jerk. No, he and Marissa broke up a good three months before he’d gotten to know Tabs as an individual and not just as Marissa’s friend, and he’d liked what he’d seen. A lot. And she hadn’t liked him. At all. She’d made that perfectly clear, but he couldn’t seem to get over it.

  “Hey,” Will, his assistant, called out as he made his way between the trees, pulling Griffin away from his thoughts. “Tony just got back with the paperwork from the city. We’re good to go.”

  “He was gone long enough,” Griffin said, concentrating on his sketch. He knew Tabs had gone on that particular errand too, and he didn’t think it took an hour and a half to run to the city offices and back.

  “Pretty sure he got lunch while he was out.” Will seemed unconcerned. “So, what’s our next step?”

  “Next step is ripping out all these trees.” Griffin nodded toward the rest of the orchard. “Once they’re gone, the crews can start digging the foundation for the new addition.”

  The two men walked back toward the hotel. “And then what? Are we still needed here?” Will asked.

  “Oh, I imagine we’ll stick around for a bit and check on things, but it’ll be up to the construction crew to make it all turn out right.” Griffin chafed at that idea. He wished he could oversee a project start to finish, but he didn’t have the capital to start up a construction business. Drawing up plans didn’t require a ton of overhead. Digging out foundations and mixing concrete and putting up towers did.

  He also wanted to stick around so he could keep an eye on a certain red-haired spitfire.

  They climbed the porch steps and entered the hotel through the kitchen, then threaded through the building to the lobby. Andrew was on the phone, so Griffin waited until he hung up to speak. Will gave a nod and left—he wouldn’t be needed again until the next day.

  “The plans are almost finished,” Griffin said when Andrew turned his attention to him. “I’ll need a few more hours to work out the guest rooms in the new wing, and then another few to design the doorframes and whatnot you asked for.”

  “And then you’re done?” Andrew looked surprised. “That’s even faster than your bid.”

  Griffin shrugged. “I always pad the bid a little in case I need extra time.”

  “I’m glad it worked out in my favor.” Andrew picked up a piece of paper from the table where he’d been working. “Thanks for recommending this construction company. They seem like good guys.”

  “Best I’ve ever worked with,” Griffin replied. “I trust them to handle whatever you need.”

  “They’re sending out a few men first thing tomorrow. Will you be able to meet with them? I want them to hear your vision from your own mouth, not just reading it off the plans.”

  “You bet.” Griffin was impressed that Andrew would think about that and facilitate it. Any time he had the chance to keep his fingers in the pie, he’d take it.

  He turned as the door to the hotel opened. He hoped it was Tabs—he hadn’t seen her since before lunch—but a tall man with graying hair and glasses stepped inside.

  “Matt,” Andrew greeted him. “Come in. Griffin, this is Matt Kingston, a genealogist who’s helping us unravel some of the mysteries of the hotel. Matt, this is Griffin Baker, our architect.”

  The two men shook hands. “I’ll be going, then,” Griffin said. “I’ve done about all I can here for today.”

  “Wait,” Matt said, holding up a finger. “I might have something you can help us with.”

  Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Me?” He didn’t know anything about genealogy. Sounded pretty boring, actually.

  “Maybe. Let me tell you what I found.”

  The three men sat down, and Matt held up the book he’d carried in with him. “Thank you for letting me take this,” he said. “It’s been fascinating reading.”

  “No problem. I knew I wouldn’t get to it for a while,” Andrew replied, then turned to Griffin. “As we’ve been cleaning up the hotel, we’ve been finding old ledgers and things belonging to my relatives, the previous owners,” he said. “Matt’s helping me figure out where I came from, so to speak.”

  “This ledger begins in 1901, when Gabriel Brody took over the hotel,” Matt said. “Did you read any of it before you gave it to me?”

  “I didn’t,” Andrew replied. “We got caught up in fixing the faulty wiring. Marissa was understandably freaked out, what with the flying sparks and stuff.”

  Matt nodded. “Let me show you what I found on the first page.” He flipped the book open and slid it across the table. “The ink is faded, but you can still make it out.”

  Andrew squinted, but then read aloud, “‘My mother passed away this morning. She was the kindest, gentlest soul who ever lived, and yet with that gentleness existed the courage and strength of a lioness. She ran this hotel at my father’s side for twenty-five years, raised three children, was like a mother to dozens of waitresses, and left behind her a legacy that will
live on for generations. She and my father shared a love like none I’ve ever witnessed. They were united in all their decisions, worked through their difficulties with respect, and demonstrated every day that our family was the most important thing to them. Truly, when I think of all the great romantic couples in literature or history, none of them compare to the real love story of Adam and Elizabeth Brody.’”

  He looked up, blinking rapidly. “That’s quite the tribute.”

  “Those were your great-grandparents?” Griffin asked. He’d never heard anything like that ledger entry. Where he came from, “family” was a complicated word.

  “My fourth great-grandparents, actually,” Andrew replied. He tapped the book. “Thanks for pointing this out, Matt. It’s a treasure.”

  “There’s something equally interesting on the next page,” Matt said, and Andrew turned to it.

  “It looks like an inventory list,” he said after he skimmed it.

  “Of things kept in the office safe,” Matt finished. “Do you know where the safe is located?”

  “No, I don’t. I didn’t realize there was one.”

  “I figured as much because it wasn’t mentioned in the first ledger you gave me—not until this one.” Matt nodded toward Griffin. “This is where you might come in. If you had designed that office, where would you have put a safe?”

  Griffin thought about it. “In the wall behind the desk,” he said. “It seems thick enough to support a safe. Or in the exterior wall by the window. I’m relying on my memory, though—I could be wrong.” His fingers started itching for a tape measure. He loved mysteries.

  “Too bad they’re still working in there and we can’t go look right now,” Andrew said. He glanced at the list again. “This says, ‘Mother’s hair combs and anniversary necklace.’ If those things are still in there . . . we could hold and touch items that actually belonged to Elizabeth.”

  Matt grinned. “This is what’s so fun about family history. Making connections, feeling the past as though it’s with us right now. You can tell that I love my job.”

  Andrew laughed. “Yes, and I see why. Thank you for this.”

  “Oh, I’m not done yet,” Matt went on. “Have you ever paid a visit to the Kansas Museum of History?”

  “Not since I was in grade school,” Andrew replied.

  “Well, you might want to go again. They’ve got an exhibit on the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad that will be more interesting to you now that you own the hotel—that’s the railroad this hotel used to serve,” he added, nodding toward Griffin, who felt like an outsider in this conversation, observing without really being part of it. “They have a locomotive dated 1880, five years after your family started this hotel. Granted, that particular locomotive wasn’t in use here in Kansas until 1923, but you’ll get an idea of what trains of that period looked like.” Matt paused and chuckled. “Sorry. I get a little carried away with dates sometimes.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Andrew said. “Anything you can share with me is great.”

  Griffin just nodded, wishing the man would hit the highlights and leave the rest out.

  Matt went on. “In addition, there are some exhibits about early inhabitants of Topeka, and I saw a mention on their website of one Charles Brody, born in 1927. He was Gabriel’s grandson, or your great-grandfather.”

  Andrew’s eyes widened. “That’s incredible. Okay, I’ll head over there as soon as I can.”

  Matt nodded and stood up. “I’ve got some more reading and digging to do, but I figured that would keep you busy for a little while.” He shook Andrew’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Matt. This means a lot.”

  When the door closed, Andrew let out a long, low whistle. “This is amazing,” he said, touching the book gently. “My family wasn’t particularly close, and my father . . . well, he was another story altogether, so learning all this about my ancestors is incredible.” He looked up. “What about you, Griffin? Where’s your family from?”

  Griffin shrugged. He hated answering this question, but he’d had to do it so many times, it was second nature. “I don’t know, actually. I grew up in foster care, got myself in some trouble, and ended up at a boys’ ranch in Texas. The owners, the McClains, set me straight, taught me some good life skills, and gave me another chance. And here I am.”

  Andrew regarded him curiously. “That’s quite a history. And you have no idea who your parents are?”

  “None. Baker’s not even my real last name—it’s the one they gave me when I was put in foster care.” He had to admit, he’d felt a little twinge of something while Andrew and Matt were discussing the Brody family. Was it jealousy? No, he didn’t think so. It felt more like homesickness, but for a place he’d never seen. He shook his head, trying to force out the grayness that was starting in. “If you don’t have anything else for me here, I’ll head back to the office and finish up these plans. What time do you want me tomorrow?”

  “Around nine?”

  “I’ll be here.” Griffin nodded, then left, climbing into his beat-up red truck and driving away. There was a little too much pressing on his brain—time to roll down the windows, crank some classic country music, and get his head back on straight.

  ***

  Tabs sat cross-legged on Marissa’s living room floor, drawing designs in the carpet with her finger while she talked. “And then he had the nerve to say he’d always liked my hair!”

  “Who? Tony or Griffin?”

  “Griffin! But he took me out to a really nice lunch.”

  “Griffin?”

  “No, Tony!” Tabs sighed. “Sorry. I’m a total mess right now. I’m not making any sense at all.”

  “No, not a lot,” Marissa agreed. She turned from her desk, where she had fabric samples and paint chips spread out in front of her. “I think he’s gotten under your skin.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.” Tabs finished the flower she was drawing, then looked up. “Wait. Are you talking about Tony or Griffin?”

  “Who did you think I was talking about?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Yes, but you agreed with me.”

  “Yeah.” Tabs sighed. “Okay, it’s like this. Griffin is . . . well, you know. He’s hot. He’s like, majorly hot. I’ve always been a sucker for that black hair and blue eyes combination, and then you throw in the little bit of stubble and the kind of edgy . . . he’s hot. And he was standing really close to me, and he smelled like sandalwood, and . . .” She wiped her design clear and started another one. “But he’s a jerk, and we both know it.”

  “Yes, we do. And I’m thinking it’s a good thing I chose such a deep pile for my carpet.”

  Tabs glanced up and caught Marissa’s smile. “Sorry. I just need something to do with my hands.”

  “No, by all means.” Marissa smiled again. “So, he’s a jerk.”

  “Yes, he is. I mean, he treated you badly while you were together, and then he asked me out, and he probably kicks kittens or something . . .”

  Marissa shook her head. “Nope. Doesn’t kick kittens.”

  “I guess I’m glad to hear that, but I wanted something else to accuse him of.” Tabs stretched her legs out in front of her. “And then Tony.”

  “What about Tony?”

  “He’s . . . he’s like, all suave and smooth, and he told me he wanted to impress me, and he’s taking me out to dinner next week.”

  Marissa sat up a little straighter. “He is?”

  “Yes, he is. And I think Griffin should stop trying to talk to me in hallways and let me concentrate on getting to know Tony better.”

  “I agree. Tony seems like a great guy.”

  “Yes, he is. And I hereby declare that Griffin isn’t going to bother me anymore, and I’m focusing on this job and on Tony, and all will be well.”

  “You know, it just occurred to me that Tony and Griffin look a lot alike.”

  “What? No. I mean . . .” Tabs thought about it. “You’re
right. Oh, my gosh. They do. What does that mean? Am I cursed to be chased by insanely hot men for the rest of my life? This is terrible!”

  Marissa shook her head and smiled. “Silly girl. It’s just an observation.”

  “Tell me what’s going on here.” Tabs waved her hand at Marissa’s desk, more than ready to change the subject.

  “I don’t have the room specs from . . . that person who’s not bothering you anymore . . . so I can’t get down to the nitty gritty, but these are the colors for the rooms in the tower.” Marissa handed over a couple of paint chips.

  “It’s okay to say his name. I plan to be totally professional about this.” Tabs held the paint chips together and turned them toward the light coming in through the window. “Oh, this is nice.”

  Marissa picked up a sketch and turned it so Tabs could see it. “The main color will be the taupe, with accents of the darker taupe, and then we’re doing maroon as the accent. We’ve got touches of black, and we’re putting vases of silk maroon calla lilies on the credenzas. But here and here . . .” She pointed with her fingertip. “See how we’re pulling in the old-fashioned look of the Brody? All the mirrors and frames will be wood, and so is the furniture. We’re combining the look of the past with the crispness of the present.”

  Tabs took the sketch. “This looks fantastic,” she replied. “What do you need me to do?”

  “We’ve got to present this to Andrew for approval, so I need to print out pictures of the bedspreads and wall hangings and furniture I want to use,” she said. “Would you download those for me? They’re all in Dropbox. If you’ll make up that portfolio, I’ll keep looking for the curtains and carpet I want. These wholesale websites aren’t giving me what I need.”

  “Sure,” Tabs said, coming to her feet and feeling pins and needles rush through her legs. “I don’t think Andrew’s going to reject your proposal, though. He’s a little smitten.”

  Marissa’s cheeks pinked up. “He might be, but I still want to give him a good portfolio. Do we still have any leather binders?”