“I’m sorry,” Felicity interrupted. “If this is about the lawsuit, I think you should talk to my lawyers at Vetter Douglas.”
He gave her a radiant smile. “This is about a different matter. Blake asked me to deliver these papers to you.” He slid a thick manila envelope across the table toward her. When she hesitated to touch it, he said, “Go on. Nothing harmful in there.”
Silently she opened the envelope and read the first page of the packet of papers on top. It was the property deed to an old building in Pioneer Square. The second stapled packet was official paperwork for a nonprofit agency called Hungry Hearts, complete with a logo of a saucepan with a heart suspended above it. A headache banged to life behind her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said, more confused than ever.
“It’s a gift from Blake. He bought you a building and filed paperwork on your behalf, establishing your Hungry Hearts program as an official nonprofit entity.”
Felicity suddenly found it hard to breathe. “He bought me a building?”
“He’s also engaged an architect who specializes in remodeling the interiors of historic buildings to plan out the space for a new cooking facility and dining area. He’s contracted a construction company known for their preservation work to start the buildout next week. And he’s included a sizable donation in a bank account set up for the nonprofit to outfit the facility with state-of-the-art equipment.”
She couldn’t stop the tears that shimmered in her eyes. “But he was so angry with me yesterday. And he’s suing me over the Bancroft. Why would he do something so . . .”
“Kind?” Marcus supplied.
Felicity nodded.
Marcus leaned back in his chair. “Between you and me?”
She batted at her cheeks with the back of her hands and nodded.
“I’ve known Blake a long time. I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been over the last week, or as angry over what he presumed was your betrayal.”
“I didn’t betray him. I would never tell Destiny Blake’s deepest secret. I don’t believe he was responsible for his parents’ deaths. It was a sad coincidence. Nothing more.”
Marcus smiled. “I’ve told him that same thing for years.”
“The accident also explains why he thinks Vern abandoned him, isn’t it? He’s let himself believe Vern blamed him.”
Marcus grinned. “I knew I liked you.”
Instantly she sobered. “Blake wouldn’t listen to my explanation. He’s shut me out.” Felicity bit her lip, trying to force back sudden tears.
“I’d say what he’s done for you today is a good sign that eventually he’ll come around.”
“What he’s done is nothing short of miraculous.”
Marcus nodded. “That’s it. You keep believing in miracles, and don’t give up on him yet.”
Keep on believing in miracles? How could she not?
After Marcus had left, Felicity moved from the dining room into the one place in the hotel that brought her a sense of peace: the kitchen of the Dolce Vita. The restaurant wasn’t open yet for lunch, and she was all alone.
No matter what chaos ensued in her life, cooking always calmed her, made her feel more in control. A few simple ingredients could be combined in many different ways to create any number of things. Knowing exactly what this moment called for her to create, she lit the stove and reached for a tall-sided pot.
She filled the container with salted water and set it to boil. Once that was done, she pulled a saucepan down from the rack overhead and set it over a low flame while she gathered butter, flour, milk, cheese, spices, and her favorite pasta to prepare the only dish that might make her feel as though Blake hadn’t ripped her heart out: her specialty, macaroni and cheese.
Lost in the process of making a roux, Felicity’s thoughts returned to the one man she couldn’t seem to extricate from her brain no matter how hard she tried. She added spices to the butter and simmering milk, letting the flavors mix. The mustard and bay leaf were her secret weapons, and the reason no one else could replicate her dish’s unique taste unless she revealed her recipe to them. Without much thought to what she was doing, she assembled the rest of the dish until she placed it in the oven to bake. Fifteen minutes later, she took it out and set it on the counter.
And all the while, she kept thinking back over what Marcus had said . . . to wait for Blake to come around.
Her attention returned to the kitchen at the sound of footfalls in the hallway. Her heart sped up and nearly stopped when the doors separating the kitchen from the dining area opened. It wasn’t Blake who stood there. It was her father, escorted by Mary Beth.
“Dad?” Felicity started toward him, then stopped, noting the steadiness of his steps and the clarity in his gaze.
Mary Beth greeted her with a smile. “I stopped by your room to give the nurse a break. I thought we’d find you here.”
“Are you hungry, Dad?” She didn’t expect a reply.
He smiled.
Her chest tightened at the response. Cheered by his progress, Felicity grabbed two stools from the corner and placed them near the prep station. She signaled for her father to sit on one, Mary Beth on the other. Felicity gathered three plates and three forks from the rack and set them on the table before her father, Mary Beth, and herself.
She pasted on a bright smile and dished them each a scoop of the creamy pasta. “Do you remember the first time I made macaroni and cheese? What a disaster. I got cheese all over the kitchen. I spilled so much on the burners, I had to open all the windows to air the house out.”
“Are you okay?” Mary Beth asked, interrupting Felicity’s rambling.
“I’m fine,” Felicity said, perhaps a bit too brightly.
Mary Beth gave Felicity a sideways glance. “You’re way too perky, and I know you too well. What’s happened?”
Felicity released her breath in a rush. “Blake gave me my heart’s desire.” At her friend’s questioning look, she explained about Blake purchasing a building for her and not only establishing her Hungry Hearts nonprofit, but funding it as well.
Her father sat back and looked at her as though he’d been tracking their entire conversation. He brought his hand to his heart and thumped his chest. When she continued to stare at him with a curious expression on her face, he frowned and thumped his chest again.
Felicity took a stab at interpreting the motion. “I love you, too, Dad.”
Her father shook his head, his agitation growing.
“Come on, I think we should take you back to your room.”
Felicity moved around to her father’s side. He brought his hand up to cover her heart. “Alligator,” he said for the second time.
It was the way they’d always said goodbye to each other for as long as she could remember. “Oh, Dad,” Felicity said, folding him in a hug. “I wish I understood what you were saying.”
Her father shook his head and once again tapped her heart.
Mary Beth reached for her plate of macaroni and cheese and scooped the gooey mixture onto her fork. “I think your father knows a lot more than he can communicate. I swear he’s telling you to trust your heart with Blake.”
Her father visibly relaxed, and Felicity could only assume it was because Mary Beth had guessed correctly.
“There’s too much between us,” Felicity said, her tone raw, aching. “The only way things could ever work out is if I gave up the hotel. Are you asking me to give up the hotel?”
He didn’t answer. He simply reached for the plate she’d set before him. He lifted the fork to his mouth, chewed, then smiled.
Silence stretched between them until finally Felicity released a pent-up sigh. “I know what I need to do.”
Her father said nothing. He simply took another bite of macaroni and cheese before him. Pride shone in his eyes.
Felicity ignored her food as her thoughts centered on Blake. He’d come into her life so unexpectedly. He’d been an adversary who became a friend and then a lover. As they grew clo
ser, he filled the dark spaces in her soul, the parts she’d never exposed to anyone else. With his gallantry and charm he’d swept her off her feet and made her fall in love. Hopelessly and completely.
She’d always thought love would solve all her problems, that when she fell in love no one and nothing could ever hurt her again. But she’d been wrong.
Love hurt her in places even hunger and poverty hadn’t touched. But even so, her heart belonged to Blake now. And if he wanted it, he could have it for nothing in exchange—no gifts, no money, no demonstrations of devotion, nothing but knowing he loved her, too. Just her heart in exchange for his.
Was that too much to ask?
She drew a shaky breath, one filled with infinite hope, and she knew exactly what she had to do to find out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A week ago, Felicity would rather have walked across hot coals than enter the headquarters of the Seattle Gazette. Yet, here she was, standing in the lobby about to give Destiny Carrow the news story of the year.
As if thinking about her had conjured her up, Destiny came toward her in reception, stopping before her onetime friend. “What do you want?” Destiny asked with barely concealed contempt.
Felicity straightened. “Is there somewhere private we could talk?”
“I doubt you have anything I would want to hear.”
Felicity struggled to keep her tone light. “It concerns Blake Bancroft and the Bancroft Hotel, but if you’re not interested . . .” Felicity turned toward the door.
She took three steps before Destiny called, “Wait.”
Felicity looked back over her shoulder. A frown marred Destiny’s flawless features.
“Come with me. We can talk in here.” Destiny led her to a room not far away. She waved Felicity into a chair, then folded herself into the one opposite her. The newly promoted reporter crossed her long legs and fixed her interviewee with a hard stare. “This better be worth my time.”
“It will be,” Felicity replied, “but before we get to that, I need to ask you something.” Before Destiny could object, Felicity plunged ahead. “How did you find out about Blake’s deepest fears? He told me in confidence.”
Destiny smiled. “I followed you and Blake around all over Seattle. When you came back to the hotel, I decided to book a room. After that, I had access to all levels of the hotel, including the rooftop garden. You and Blake thought you were alone, but the walls can have ears, especially at night and with a listening device. It was easy enough to hear what you said.”
“Eavesdropping is illegal.”
Destiny shrugged. “Sue me.”
Felicity’s gaze narrowed. “Blake just might.”
Destiny’s face paled. A moment later she released a long, tired sigh. “What have I done to you and Blake? To myself? I’m a better person than this . . .”
“Yes, Destiny, you are.”
“What if I printed a retraction?”
“I’d say it was a start,” Felicity conceded. “But I guess I’ll never understand why you allowed yourself to be manipulated by Reid in the first place. Was this new job really worth your own integrity?”
“I thought so at the time.” Destiny paused, then brought her gaze to Felicity’s. “I’m sorry about my terrible review of your restaurant. Every word of it was untrue. I’m also sorry that I put a job ahead of our friendship. It was wrong of me to do that, I realize now.”
A look of remorse shadowed Destiny’s eyes. Felicity knew the reporter well enough to acknowledge the words were sincere, even if they might have been motivated by the reality of Reid going to jail. Felicity dug deep inside herself, forcing the anger over Destiny’s actions away. Being mad at Destiny for making it look like she had betrayed Blake wasn’t going to help any of them move on with their lives. She dredged up the words she knew she must say. “I forgive you.”
Destiny’s eyes widened. “Why? I don’t deserve that.”
Saying the words made Felicity feel lighter. Forgiveness was the right path to take. “Can we start over, Destiny?” Felicity asked, ready for a return to at least a measure of the closeness they once shared. “No more secrets between us, no more hurt feelings, and definitely no more jealousy.”
An odd expression came over Destiny’s face. “You would trust me again after what I did to you and Blake?”
“I’m willing to give it a try. Are you?”
Destiny nodded, then sat forward as if she suddenly remembered why Felicity was there. “So what’s your news?”
Felicity allowed herself a small smile. This was the Destiny she knew, the one she’d been friends with. Perhaps there really was hope for that again. Drawing a breath, Felicity said, “I’m giving the Bancroft Hotel and the Dolce Vita back to Blake. There will be no court battle. I’m walking away.”
“Why?” Destiny asked, her tone an octave higher.
Felicity paused for a long moment as she considered telling Destiny the truth; that she loved Blake more than she wanted the hotel or the restaurant; that sometimes you had to let go of something to find your way to something else. But the eager look on Destiny’s face dissuaded her. She didn’t trust her old friend with her heart just yet. She barely trusted herself. “Because I found another way to protect my employees.”
“Which is?” Destiny asked.
“Do you want my story or not?” Felicity said, with a hint of annoyance.
“Oh, I want it.” Destiny grabbed her phone. “Do I have your permission to record this?” she asked a moment before initiating a recording app.
Felicity agreed.
“You’ll give me the exclusive?”
Felicity smiled. Yes, this was the Destiny she used to know. “Of course, that’s why I’m here.”
“Then it looks like we have a story to break, my friend.”
A week later, Blake paced across his luxurious office on the seventieth floor of Bancroft Towers in the heart of downtown San Francisco. He clutched an unopened letter that had been hand delivered by his own lawyer, Marcus Grady.
“Have you read the newspaper lately?” Marcus asked.
“No. I have no desire to read anything more about the sordid details of my love life or anything else. I’ve a business to run.”
“Yes, and lives to ruin,” Marcus replied, his voice laced with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marcus raised a brow. “Aren’t you going to read what Felicity wrote in her letter?”
“No,” Blake replied, studying his friend’s angry face instead.
“Read it,” Marcus demanded, wearing an expression he usually reserved for his toughest clients.
Blake frowned as he ripped the envelope open and withdrew a piece of white linen stationery embossed with the Bancroft Hotel emblem of a shield bearing the letters B and H across the top. “So she wrote me a letter,” he said without reading the words.
“Would you like me to read it for you?” Marcus said, standing and plucking the letter from Blake’s slack fingers.
My dearest Blake,
When you love someone, you have to be unselfish enough to give them what they want. There is no need to go forward with your lawsuit. The Bancroft Hotel and the Dolce Vita are yours to do with as you desire. As owner, you will have the right to withdraw any historical protection the building has received.
Your gift of the building and establishment of a nonprofit for the Hungry Hearts program was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. The program is doing so well, and sponsors are flooding to donate. I’ve even been able to hire all my former employees into secure positions with Hungry Hearts as soon as you are ready to take ownership of the hotel.
And if it helps you to know, Destiny overheard us talking on the rooftop. She’s the one who betrayed your secret, not me.
I hope you are well and that life brings you much happiness. My most sincere thanks for your gift, and I wish you only the best in your future endeavors.
Always yours,
“Sweet, huh?” Marcus scoffed. “Proud of yourself? Stealing a hotel away from someone who needed the money a whole lot more than you.”
“This was never about money.”
“No?” Marcus asked. “You could have fooled me.” He slapped the letter on the desk beside the two of them. “Open your eyes, Blake. That girl was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Blake refused to react to Marcus’s anger. His mind was still fixated on the first words she’d written. “When you love someone . . .”
“How do you live with yourself sometimes? You forced her into a corner and she folded, exactly like so many of your business opponents do. It’s all yours. Everything reverts to you at midnight tonight. My compliments to you on another acquisition, but at what price?” Having said his piece, Marcus stalked out the door, leaving Blake behind to stare at the handwritten letter.
At what price, indeed. A heartbeat later he picked up his cell phone and dialed Peter. “Have the plane readied, then pick me up. We’re flying to Seattle tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was dusk when Blake entered the Bancroft Hotel. He searched the familiar lobby, and when Felicity wasn’t there, he moved to scan the restaurant, expecting at any moment to see Felicity’s platinum-blonde hair and enchanting face as she talked with her patrons. Instead, he came face to face with the hotel’s manager.
“Come to gloat?” Edward said, glowering at him from behind the maître d’s desk.
“Where’s Felicity?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s gone.”
“Gone for a walk, or left the hotel for good?” Blake needed the man to be specific as uncharacteristic desperation threaded his veins. She couldn’t be gone. Not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to talk with her, to explain.
Explain what? What a fool he’d been? That he should have trusted her?
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