Natasha's Diary

by Heather Greenis

  Poppa stared at the ground. “I gave my approval to invite the woman, certain I could remain strong. Seeing them, the memories came rushing back, vivid and painful. Their stubborn pride cost me a wife and you a momma. Natasha missed the opportunity to see you grow, fall in love, and marry. She would have adored Adam, as I do.”

  “Momma is with us, Poppa. I have felt her presence since waking this morning. She is still by my side.”

  “It has been years. I have found happiness with Izabella, but I miss your momma, terribly.”

  Hope embraced him. “Hush. Izabella and Adam are approaching.” She extended her hand to her husband.

  “You informed me it was not your intent to invite your grandfather,” Adam declared. “You changed your mind?”

  “No. I did not. He was not invited. Obviously, I did not make the invitation clear.”

  “There is no need to dwell on it,” Izabella informed them. “They have left. It’s time to return to your family and friends and celebrate. The photographer will be eager to take pictures.”

  Adam reached for Hope’s hand.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Stewart watched Hope walk off with Adam, but never moved. He couldn’t. The thought of putting on a brave face for the guests left him cold. Izabella took his hand and brushed it with her lips.

  “I made the acquaintance of King Harold shortly after my marriage to Charles,” she remarked. “He was a strong, domineering man. I recall Charles being intimidated by him, which did not occur often.”

  “I’m yet to make his acquaintance, having refused all opportunity since Natasha passed. She rarely spoke of her father and bore him no love. I remember the afternoon Nanny arranged for Natasha to speak with him via telephone. The day is vivid in my mind. Natasha returned to the apartment and shut herself into our bedroom. Her wild weeping almost brought me to tears as well. I gave her a few minutes, and then left Hope playing alone to join her. She had flung herself on our bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at me and cried, ‘I hate him.’”

  “I wept as I read that entry,” Izabella admitted.

  “Her hatred was deep and complete. Her father hurt her yet again. As a young child, he wounded her by his dismissal and total lack of interest in her. Anna did not offer support. How is that possible? Now they want forgiveness? That is something that is beyond my power to give.”

  Izabella embraced him.

  “What she was unable to write, but told in private, was her wish for her father to rot in hell. She meant those words,” he whispered, holding Izabella’s body tight against his. He took a deep breath. “Natasha has received—no, she is receiving her last wish from the grave. The man that used power and strength to control her life is now weak and frail. Marcus and Nanny both report his mind is strong but his body is deteriorating. In a sense, he’s rotting.”

  “Oh, Stewart,” she whispered in sympathy.

  “I couldn’t look at him. That man is the reason Natasha is gone and Hope grew up without her mother.”

  “Shh. They are gone now. Marcus and Joshua walked them to their carriage. I watched as they rode off.”

  Somewhat relieved, Stewart regretted allowing painful memories mar what should be a wonderful occasion. Hope was happily married, yet here he was still grieving a dead wife, and with his current lover at that. Izabella deserved so much more from him. She filled the void in his heart. He couldn’t bear to lose her. “My apologies.”

  “Don’t apologize for loving her. She was your first love. Natasha will always hold a place in your heart no other will ever touch. Now and forever.”

  “Happy thoughts,” he said, attempting to smile. “Hope and Adam are wed.” Stewart took a deep breath, exhaled, and straightened his shoulders. Smiling, he led Izabella toward his parents and sister.

  “Have you spoken of your news?” Stewart asked his sister.

  Vicki shook her head and looked toward her niece, beaming with pride. “You shall have a cousin,” she announced to all present. “I don’t have the flu, but am with child.”

  Hope embraced her aunt. “I’m so pleased. We must congratulate Uncle Greg. Where is he?”

  “With his parents,” Vicki informed her. She pointed toward her husband.

  * * *

  “Ah, gotta love karma, poetic justice. The king’s treatment of Natasha has come back to haunt him. I can’t feel sorry for him. And then there is Anna. I can’t believe the audacity of that woman. I can understand wanting to bring Harold to the wedding, but seriously. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned it to Hope, or at the very least, her sons or Nanny? Agh!” Keeghan fumed.

  “I don’t doubt for a minute Marcus and Joshua had something to say as they walked their parents to the carriage. That is the next scene, right Alexander?”

  Their narrator simply shook his head.

  “Damn. I can’t bribe you with money. What would it take to get you include that as a mini scene?” Will questioned.

  “Will, this saga is being told from Stewart and Hope’s point of view. They wouldn’t have a clue what was said unless Marcus or Joshua told them later.”

  Alexander turned his attention back to the screen.

  * * *

  The families waved as Adam and Hope rode off to begin their honeymoon.

  “You must settle my curiosity or I shall not sleep,” Vicki begged Stewart. “Where are they spending their wedding night?”

  “The newlyweds are at the Fitzgerald for two nights.”

  “The Fitzgerald?” Vicki repeated. “That is a costly hotel. Did you happen to make arrangements, or speak to someone?”

  “Nay. The connections I have established through my business do not include the current owners or managers of that hotel. Adam spoke with them and inquired about the cost. The moment he mentioned who he was, they were generous and eager to please. Adam did not disclose the rate, but seemed very pleased. It is obvious the Venderkemps have an established reputation and business connections of their own.”

  “I suppose it is possible families from outside the area go to their orphanage to adopt. They stay a night or two at local establishments while the paperwork is completed,” Izabella suggested. “Perhaps the owners realize the Venderkemp Orphanage assists the local economy.”

  “That would be a reasonable assumption,” Stewart’s father added. “The new parents would be excited with the anticipation of welcoming a child into their home. They would speak of their joy while at the hotel and restaurant. I cannot imagine the monthly bills at the orphanage. To maintain a building and provide food and clothing for so many children must be challenging.”

  After delivering the rest of his family home, Stewart turned the horses toward Izabella’s. He followed her to the door to help her collect her things and carried the suitcase back to the buggy. Once she was sitting by his side, he tapped the reins and set off for home. He was looking forward to having Izabella as his guest while Hope was away. I will miss Hope, terribly, but I will fall asleep and wake with Izabella in my arms every morning. Bliss.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Stewart finished work on Monday afternoon and led the horses toward Valentines to collect Izabella. Arriving shortly before closing, he entered the retail boutique. Glancing around, he noted and appreciated that the shelves were meticulously neat and orderly, as expected with a high-end boutique. Glamorous gowns hung on strategically placed hooks for viewing, and there were numerous privacy barriers. Comfortable chairs were scattered artfully near the barriers for the use of those waiting. Lizzy was organizing some dresses to his left. The woman’s dark brown hair was caught back in a chignon, and her brown eyes were serious. Izabella had spoken highly of her young employee. Izabella was very impressed with her work ethic since she joined the establishment only a few months earlier.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Donovan.”

  “Good afternoon, Lizzy.” Scanning the interior of the shop, he failed to find Izabella. About to inquire as to her whereabouts, a loud male voice thundered
from the back of the shop. “Is the gentleman with Mrs. Herrmann a client?”

  “I don’t believe so. Mrs. Herrmann received news of his impending arrival and escorted him directly to her office when he arrived. I work alongside Mrs. Herrmann regularly, but I have never heard her raise her voice in anger,” Lizzy whispered.

  There was no question. The young woman was uncomfortable with the situation.

  “Nor have I,” Stewart confessed. “I shall lock the doors behind you. Retrieve your belongings and depart for the evening. I will wait for the gentleman to leave.”

  She didn’t question his authority to grant her release, but thanked him. Stewart walked to the back and retrieved the key. Lizzy scurried out. He locked the door behind her. Stewart sat on a chair intended for clients and waited for Izabella to finish. He was unable to hear the words of the conversation, but the volume increased alarmingly.

  Ten minutes passed. Stewart stood and wandered toward the front of the boutique to look out the window. He watched other store owners leaving for the evening.

  “That is not my concern,” Izabella insisted.

  Stewart turned and looked toward the office.

  “Be reasonable,” a male voice replied. “For the good of the company!”

  “No. I refuse to sign this document as worded.”

  Stewart approached the counter, keeping an eye on the office door. It got quiet, too quiet. A sense of unease settled in his chest. What is going on? Who is in there with her?

  “Do not tax yourself. I will let myself out,” the male voice growled.

  The door flung open. A middle-aged man in a black suit stormed out of the office. He caught Stewart’s eye, growled about women in the workforce, and darted toward the door. He wrenched the handle, but the locked door didn’t budge. The man pivoted on his heel and glared at Stewart. Stewart unlocked the door and held it open. The man was still grumbling as he stomped out. Stewart locked the door and turned to look toward the office. Izabella did not appear. There was no sound of movement. Concerned for her safety, he crossed the floor and looked into the office. Izabella sat at a large mahogany desk, reading glasses in her hand as she stared at the painting on the wall. Glancing toward her desk, there was a small pile of paper and a pen laying on top. Izabella looked up when he appeared in the doorway. She glanced at her timepiece.

  “Stewart,” she exclaimed. “I did not realize the hour.”

  “I arrived a short time ago. As you were otherwise engaged, I gave Lizzy leave to depart for the day and locked the door.”

  “Thank you. I must apologize to Lizzy. That was unprofessional of me.”

  “What did that boorish man want?” He leaned against the door frame, studying her face. Izabella reached for the ends of her hair and grabbed a handful.

  “That man will make me age before my time. The stress is turning my poor auburn hair grey.”

  “Would it help to talk about it?”

  “The gentleman who just left is an executive with the Herrmann Corporation.”

  “So this meeting has nothing to do with Valentines?”

  “You are correct. He arrived with a contract that he needs me to sign on behalf of the Corporation. A contract that, due to the dollar value, requires both our signatures,” she responded in a very soft voice. “Charles would roll over in his grave if this deal proceeded as written.” She took a deep breath, giving it a moment’s thought. “Without boring you with detail, in your business it would be the equivalent of your crew using cheap supplies and sloppy workmanship, tarnishing your name and reputation. I cannot, will not allow it, even though the profit margin is astronomical. I refused to affix my name to the document. George is furious. He didn’t expect me to resist. I have never refused a request until this moment.”

  “I see. The gentleman, and I use the term loosely, did not appear pleased.”

  “That, my love, is an understatement. He’s not of the belief women have a place in business. Women are to remain at home, populating this earth.”

  “Oh my. I know Natasha was a member of a very small minority at university, as was our daughter. It’s my hope that situation changes with her children. Women are intelligent and deserve the right to an education. The desire for wealth at any cost—that is another issue entirely.”

  “Why does the almighty dollar make people so greedy?”

  “I wish I could answer that. I’ve been awarded many contacts due to the greed of my competitors.”

  “You’ve won contacts due to your competency and reputation. Once Charles met you he would have paid any price for your talent.”

  Stewart smiled. He had an equal admiration for Charles, having wished for the opportunity to work for the man a second time.

  “That is pleasing to hear, but the fact remains, greed exists in this country. In this world. And the weak—”

  “Heaven help them,” Izabella said with a wince.

  Stewart was proud of her. During the altercation with her business associate she displayed a strength he never knew she possessed. He doubted the man would underestimate her a second time. “Charles would be proud of you. He was watching from heaven with a smile upon his face as you fought for your,” he stopped to correct his term, “his honour and reputation.”

  Izabella’s eyes teared up. “How could you leave me in this position, Charles? I am furious.” She quickly placed her hand over her mouth, and then wiped her eyes. “I don’t mean that,” she whispered. She looked at Stewart. “I loved him. I still do. George would not attempt this nonsense if Charles were alive.”

  “Fire him,” Stewart ordered, distressed to see her so upset. “It’s obvious George is more a hindrance than helpful.”

  “I don’t possess the authority.” She wiped wet streaks from her cheeks. “That confrontation was exhausting. George was named in the will. I recall that conversation vividly. Charles said George is stubborn but intelligent, and an asset to the company. Currently, that man is thorn in my shoe. George is testing me, but with God as my witness, he will not win.”

  Stewart had never seen Izabella sound so determined. She stared at the paperwork in front of her for a few seconds before glancing up.

  “I must leave on a business trip, tomorrow.”

  No-o-o. He had looked forward to spending time with Izabella while Hope was away. A plan formed in his mind. His company could survive a week without him. “If you wish, I shall accompany you.”

  “You despise negotiating. You’ve spoken of your dislike on more than one occasion.”

  Just hearing the term, Stewart subconsciously crunched his nose. There was nothing he distasted more. Greg had been hired initially so Stewart and Willard could avoid the chore. Then a brilliant idea entered his mind.

  “Greg is excellent at negotiating and would be pleased to offer assistance. My father is capable of managing my crew. You shall be accompanied by two men,” he boasted. “Vicki can stay with Momma and Poppa while we’re gone.”

  Izabella glanced at the papers on her desk, and then turned her attention back to Stewart. “It would please me to allow Greg to negotiate, but it would testify to my inability to do so and give George more ammunition to use against me. Charles was aware of George’s opinion regarding women in the workforce. My husband was equally stubborn and defended his position on the subject. He always kept me informed of his business decisions. I regret to say that Greg’s assistance would make me lose what little respect I have earned within the company.” She sat up straight and took a deep breath. “I appreciate the offer, but no. I shall prove I deserve the authority I was given. George cannot make a firm offer without Mrs. Charles Herrmann’s signature, and that contract will be perfect before I’m willing to lift my pen.”

  Stewart smiled, proud of her confidence. “I adore your red hair and the temperament that goes with it.” He winked. “Give them hell, Mrs. Herrmann.”

  Stewart stepped toward her, extended his hand, and they left the office. He turned off the lights and locked the door of t
he shop behind them.

  “I should return to my own home this evening,” she informed him.

  “No. After our meal, we shall retire early. I will rise before dawn and ensure you have ample time to pack and arrive at the train station in plenty of time. I will help you relax, and then you will sleep soundly in my arms.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  With Izabella out of town, Stewart desperately missed Hope’s companionship more than ever. Evenings were quiet without her chatter. Stewart spent longer hours at his office, allowing Vicki and Greg private time to enjoy each other’s company. On the fourth night, he took the warm plate Vicki had left for him and began eating his meal. His sister poured herself a cup of warm milk and sat next to him.

  “I wonder who you miss more, Izabella, or Hope?”

  “I’m not able to respond to that.” He kept his focus on his plate. “I’ve become accustomed to having them both here. Presently, I miss Brodie, but I’m not going to get another dog.”

  “Hope will move to the orphanage now that she is married. We’ll all have to make adjustments.”

  “I cannot imagine my life without her. It will seem strange without her here.”

  “That’s to be expected, Stewart. Hope has been the focus of your life since the day she was born, but she is now a married woman. Her life is with Adam. You will still see her regularly.”

  Stewart swallowed and took a sip of his wine. “The evenings will be difficult.”

  “Izabella will return and keep you occupied.”

  Stewart missed Izabella more than he cared to admit, but he also missed Hope. They had never been separated this long. He appreciated his sister’s attempt to comfort him, but his life wouldn’t be the same without his daughter living in his home.