Charlene was concerned that the business might lose momentum if Brianna was gone for too long. Several of their clients had already given referrals to their friends and associates.
“I’d hate to turn customers away because we can’t take on any new projects,” Charlene said.
Brianna assured her that they would keep in constant contact. When a potential client called, Charlene would set up a virtual meeting between the client and Brianna to discuss their budget, style, and color preferences. Once she’d sketched a preliminary design, Charlene would present it to them in her absence. She would proceed with the design phase, if the client agreed with her concept, and she’d be home well before she had it completed.
“I know you can do this, Char. You have great instincts, and we have similar tastes.”
“You’re right. I am pretty awesome. Hey, is Benjie going with you?” Charlene pierced Brianna with an unwavering stare. “Oh, my God! You haven’t told him you’re leaving, have you?”
Brianna shook her head. “I plan on telling him tonight. I wanted to discuss my ideas with you first to make sure you were okay with them.”
“Bree, if it’s that important to you, then it’s important to me too, and I’m sure Benjie will want to come with you.”
“I’d like him to, but he’s in the middle of working on an article for his last assignment, the one in New Zealand. I’m not sure if he can get away on such short notice. His editor is a stickler for meeting deadlines.”
Charlene leaned over and placed a hand on Brianna’s arm. “If you’re leaving in the morning, that doesn’t give you much time to prepare. I can help make arrangements, call and book a flight, find a hotel, whatever you need. I’m great at coordinating at the last minute.”
“Everything’s already taken care of. Not only are my flight and hotel booked, but I have a rental car waiting for me at the airport. All I have to do tonight is pack my bags.”
“And tell Benjie.”
Brianna blushed, knowing she hadn’t told Ben because she was afraid of what his reaction might be.
“I can’t change your mind?”
Brianna shook her head.
With a heavy sigh, Charlene replied, “All right. Go. But you’d better come back soon.”
With a quick hug and a halfhearted wave, Brianna headed for the exit. The phone rang and she paused in the doorway. Charlene answered with her usual repartee, and Brianna smiled as she shut the door behind her. The business was a huge part of her life and abandoning it by going to Fairmont was hard, but it was the only way she could clear her conscience.
***
Brianna drove to the condo, maneuvering with ease through the busy downtown area. Her stomach fluttered with the uncertainty of Ben’s response to her unexpected trip to Fairmont. She dreaded this discussion more than the one with Charlene, and decided to practice her best negotiating techniques as she drove. She tried a matter-of-fact approach, pleading, determined, and nothing felt right. What did it matter anyway? She’d already made her decision. He couldn’t say or do anything that would make her change her mind. Not now. And if he wanted a fight, he’d get one, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Ben’s car was in the driveway when she arrived. After laying her purse on the foyer table, she went on a manhunt. She found him in the study, lounging in the swivel chair, staring at a blank computer screen, and she was hit with another stab of guilt. He’d spent all his time shielding her from the paparazzi and had neglected his work. It was her fault. Her parents’ death had not only impacted her life, but the lives of everyone around her. She snuck up behind him and draped her arms around his neck. “I see you’re hard at work,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“I’m drawing a blank—writer’s block. It’s happened before, and I’m sure it’ll happen again.” He whipped the chair around, catching her off-guard, and she fell into his lap. After a thorough kissing, he asked her about her day.
She described her excitement in finding her father’s wish list, locating a local realtor to sell her parents’ mansion, the meeting with the restaurant employees, and ended with her visit to the office.
She was ready to tell him what she’d discussed with Charlene, but the intensity of his gaze had her stomach roiling. Brianna took a deep breath to steady herself and opened her mouth to speak, but Ben beat her to it.
“You have that look,” he said.
“What look?”
“The one that screams, I have something I need to tell you.”
Then Brianna blurted out her entire plan, making sure to apologize for springing it on him at the last minute.
He listened without interrupting, his warm, brown eyes focused on her the whole time. When she finished, the hair on the back of her neck bristled as she waited for his response.
She thought he would explode or at least chastise her for not discussing it with him first, but he didn’t. He forgave her for the suddenness and was even supportive.
“Are you sure you’re up to it? It hasn’t been that long since the accident.”
She rested her hand on his arm. “Yes, and I hope you understand why I have to do this.”
“I do, and it’s a great idea. Maybe honoring your parents will help you get over losing them.”
He went on to tell her he would go with her, but he had a meeting with his editor on Friday. She would let him have it if he didn’t show up. He also had a meeting his manager had arranged regarding a potential assignment for a travel magazine the following Monday. He couldn’t miss that one either. He did promise to join her in Fairmont by the end of the following week if all the meetings were successful.
“Are you sure you want to come? You don’t have to. I won’t be gone that long.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “If you’re there, then yes. I can write anywhere. Besides, a change of scenery might help with the writer’s block.”
Brianna couldn’t contain her happiness. She threw her arms around his neck and rained kisses on his face.
Laughing hysterically, Ben lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the couch before covering her body with his. His lips captured hers, their tongues entwined.
Brianna tilted her head back and closed her eyes, allowing Ben access to nuzzle her neck. He ran his tongue along the top of her shoulder, inching up to her lips again. She waited in anticipation, but he pushed away instead and looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We have an appointment with the wedding planner tomorrow,” Ben said.
Brianna hung her head, ashamed she’d forgotten.
“I’ll call in the morning and reschedule for sometime next month.”
“You don’t mind?” she asked.
“Of course I mind. I want to marry you as soon as possible, but you’re worth the wait.”
She reached for him again, easing him back into her arms. His eyes held a wicked gleam of desire. “It’s only a temporary delay,” she said. “You promised me a house with a white picket fence, a two-car garage, and 2.5 kids. I intend to hold you to that.”
His booming laughter filled the room. “That leaves us tonight to work on the 2.5. We’d better get started.”
“I need to pack at some point.”
With a husky growl, he said, “Later, Bree. Much later.”
Chapter 6
Brianna stared out the window at the miniature landscape below as the airplane made its final descent into Charleston. The sheer vastness of the world made her problems seem insignificant. It made her wonder if this trip was pointless. What difference would her two projects make in the big scheme of things?
It would make a huge difference to the recipients of the Daniel Rossi scholarship. Their lives would be changed.
What if she ran into Riley? Could she handle facing him again?
Her thoughts flip-flopped between getting an immediate return flight home and following through on her promise. She opted for the latter.
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After signing her life away at the rental counter, Brianna wandered through the lot, searching for the numbered space containing her car, not looking forward to the two-hour drive from the airport in Charleston to Fairmont.
By the time she arrived in the downtown area, she was bleary-eyed and exhausted but also excited to drive down the familiar streets. Fairmont was the quintessential example of small town America, and she was hit with the sudden realization that she missed her hometown more than she’d realized.
Brianna found herself in tears, fighting back the swell of conflicting emotions. She swiped at her eyes, refusing to fall apart. She’d had enough of that. I’m tired. After a good night’s sleep, I’ll feel better.
The GPS shouted out directions to her hotel. She followed the instructions, admiring the way the lights from the historic buildings bounced off the meandering river, sparkling like glimmering stars. She’d seen this sight many times growing up. It never ceased to make her want to stop and gaze at its beauty. She did so tonight, pulling to the curb and parking.
The city had changed, grown in the past two years. New streets forked off the old. Buildings that used to house stores she frequented in her youth were vacant. New businesses had popped up with their Open signs flashing.
Why would I think it would stay the same? Nothing ever does.
With a sense of melancholy, she put the car in drive again and let the old-fashioned street lamps light the way to the hotel where she’d made her reservation. The hotel had been there since before she was born. All she required was a comfortable bed and a clean bathroom. The room provided both.
After tipping the bellhop, she made a quick call to Ben. She’d promised to let him know when she arrived at the hotel. They talked for fifteen minutes before hanging up.
She wasn’t all that hungry and was too tired to find a restaurant, so she got ready for bed. The image in the bathroom mirror revealed a drastic improvement from the one she’d seen five days ago. The dull, lifeless complexion now had a rosy sheen. Her eyes were no longer red and puffy, though the shadow of sadness still lurked in their depths. That would take longer to disappear. She had a purpose now. That should help to ease the pain . . . and maybe some of the guilt.
She climbed between the crisp, cool sheets and turned out the light.
***
For the first time in weeks, she’d slept through the night, and rose early, refreshed and ready for her meeting at the YMCA. She’d scheduled herself two and a half hours between the appointments with the administrator and the realtor. That should give her enough time to drive the twenty miles to Bridgeport, take a tour of the YMCA, and get the paperwork signed before driving back to meet with Connie Smith from Smith’s Hometown Realty.
The hotel provided a continental breakfast. She grabbed a carton of milk and a banana to eat on the way. The traffic on the road to Bridgeport was light, and she arrived at the YMCA well before her scheduled appointment time. The receptionist asked her to take a seat in the waiting room while she informed Mr. Zywicki, the YMCA administrator, of her arrival.
Brianna’s stomach rumbled, but she wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or nervousness.
Mr. Zywicki didn’t make her wait long. He rushed down the hall, the overhead light shining off his bald head, to pump her hand with a huge grin on his face. She followed him into his office where he offered her a seat in a well-worn chair. She glanced around the room, sparsely furnished in muted shades of brown and empty of paintings or personal items. Her designer instincts kicked in, and she mentally redecorated the room in vibrant colors. She decided to provide additional funding for improvements to the offices. That would make them more appealing. They might have more volunteers if the place didn’t look so dreary.
She spent the next hour and a half going through her father’s plans for renovating the facility and her plan to create The Daniel Rossi Foundation. She explained the process for requesting funds through her attorney, Mr. Caro. He would scrutinize all requisitions before sending them to her for final approval.
For the next half hour, she received a tour of the facility. When they stopped in the area for after-school care, she remembered all the times her father talked about helping the kids with math problems. She would include new computers for the children to do homework on while they waited for their parents to pick them up.
It was 11:10 by the time the meeting ended. She’d scheduled her next appointment for 11:30. Where’d the time go? I’m going to be late for my next appointment. I really need to work on my time-management skills.
Brianna shoved the signed contracts into her briefcase, shook the administrator’s hand, and made a mad dash to the car. She pulled her phone from her purse and punched in Ms. Smith’s number to let her know she’d be fifteen or twenty minutes late.
Connie told her not to give it another thought. None of her meetings ever ended on time. Connie’s deep belly laugh was contagious, and Brianna conjured up a vision of the realtor as a middle-aged woman of medium build, with wavy, bright-red hair, friendly amber-colored eyes, and a wide smile. Brianna would soon find out if she was right.
“I emailed you the files on three properties,” Connie said. “They’ll be the best fit for what you need.”
“I’ll pull them up now and call you right back to let you know which one I want to see first.”
After hanging up, Brianna pulled up the email attachments. The first and second properties fit the profile, but they didn’t have much curb appeal. She wasn’t impressed with either. She crossed her fingers before checking the last property. From what she could make out from the miniscule picture, the house was a three story Queen Anne with a polygonal tower and a wraparound porch, quite eye-catching. The brief description said it had 5683 square feet of living space, more than she needed.
The first two floors would be perfect for the spa. The third floor could be turned into an apartment to use when she was in town.
Brianna tried to enlarge the image as much as she could to scrutinize the structure’s outside. The house needed a new coat of paint and minor repairs, but from what she could see, it was exactly what she wanted. If it looked as good on the inside as it did on the outside, she wouldn’t need to see the other two properties.
She called Connie back and told her she wanted to see the Queen Anne first. She suggested they meet at the property to save time, and the realtor agreed.
Brianna punched the address into the GPS and sped out of the parking lot, excited about seeing the house and pleased that the day had turned out better than she expected—at least so far.
In seventeen minutes, she arrived at the address and parked on the street. The house was hidden behind towering sycamore trees, their spreading branches contorted into whimsical shapes.
Brianna walked through the rusted wrought iron gate that grated against its broken hinge and stepped into the shade of the sycamore trees to get her first glimpse of the sweeping expanse of lawn. Where it had once been lush and green, the grass was now dead. All that remained was knee-high weeds and patches of dirt.
She trekked toward the massive house, taking in all aspects of the exterior. Eastlake-inspired ornamental trim decorated the wraparound porch and edged the windows and doors.
The asymmetrical structure had a soaring, round tower covered in single-pane windows, and a copper roof that had turned green from oxidation.
Two well-preserved stained glass windows were visible, one atop the front door and another one on the second floor.
The house was painted white that had dulled to an unappealing gray and peeling in several places.
On the north side, a thick layer of green mold grew under the eaves. She hoped the wood hadn’t rotted underneath.
Connie Smith stood on the veranda, waving.
Brianna continued toward the house. “You must be Connie Smith.” The vision she’d had of her was a flawless match.
The realtor smiled as she shook Brianna’s outstretched hand. “Welcome to Monroe Manor.
You got here faster than I expected. I arrived only a few minutes ago myself.”
“No traffic and I did speed a bit.” Brianna was stopped short when she saw the view from the veranda. The sloping grounds led to the Monongahela River. Beyond the river, the peaks of the Appalachian Mountains, cloaked in dense forests, soared into the clouds.
“I love this porch. I can line chairs up along the wall. The patrons will have a perfect place to relax after a spa treatment and enjoy this spectacular view.”
“Sign me up,” Connie said. She swept her hand in a semicircle. “As you can see, the house is situated on a cul-de-sac. Of course, when it was first built there was nothing here but open fields. The property to the right is designated a nature preserve. Because no one can build there, it will give you plenty of privacy.” She paused, giving Brianna a chance to observe the surrounding area. “Are you ready to see the inside?”
Brianna nodded and followed Connie to the off-center entrance where the realtor pulled a bulky ring of keys from her purse, fiddling to find the right one.
Brianna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyeing the ugly façade. Why would anyone paint a house like this plain white? It’s destroyed all its charm, but I can fix that.
She’d studied the Queen Anne style of architecture in one of her college courses and knew that, during the last half of the nineteenth century, earth tones had been used in their paint schemes, often as many as six different colors. If she was lucky, the original colors might still be visible after all these years, once all the layers of paint were stripped away.
Connie found the right key, and the door opened with an eerie creak. The interior of the house was focused around a central hallway that branched off to the adjacent rooms. A coat closet was to the left of the door, with enough space to handle the customers’ outerwear.
Brianna went further inside to stand in front of the grand staircase, the main egress to the upstairs rooms. The hefty newel posts were decorated with a rosette motif that was duplicated on the second floor, and she assumed it continued to the third.
Still, Forever, Promise Page 5
