by Jane Porter
For a long moment there was no response, and then, I hate it here.
Taylor bit her lip, a fresh wave of dread washing through her, weighting her limbs, making her heart ache.
He wasn’t in the right place. He needed a good therapist, as well as a dedicated doctor who could help with fine tuning Doug’s medicine. Not all depression medicine worked equally. Everybody was different. And bodies changed, and brain chemistry changed, and when that happened, you needed to try a new medicine, or a combination of medicines.
Three months she told herself. Three months and he’d be out and she’d get him the right help. She’d make sure he was seen by the best medical professionals she could find.
He deserved it. Just as he deserved a bright, healthy, happy future.
Before she could think of something to say, Doug texted again. But I’ll survive. I’ll make it work. I want to get through this so I can come live with you.
Her eyes burned and her throat swelled closed. For a moment she couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed by love. He was such a good person and it broke her heart knowing how much he struggled. Blinking back tears, Taylor texted him back. Me, too.
Will I still see you this weekend?
Wouldn’t miss it.
Nite, Tay.
Night, hon.
She slid her phone into the pocket of her robe, conscious that Troy was watching her, and had been watching her the entire time she’d texted back and forth with Doug. “Everything’s fine,” she said, voice husky.
“No emergency?” Troy asked.
She managed a small smile, eyes still damp. “Emergency averted.”
“That’s good.”
“Yep.” She held her smile and yet on the inside she hurt. She hurt for Doug, and from a purely selfish point of view, she missed him. She hated only being able to see him on weekends, for a couple hours on Sunday. It never seemed as if they had enough time to visit, or just relax and hang out together, playing a game, or watching a show in the living room for guests. It was hard for Doug, too, to have so little contact with family. He was still young. He needed family and support. He needed hugs and laughter and the reminder that he was more than his depression, more than the sum of his parts.
“Thank you,” she said to Troy, meaning it. “I know it’s a long drive, late at night, in terrible conditions.”
“Happy to help.” Troy reached into his coat pocket for his car keys. “So how are you going to get to work tomorrow?”
“Kara’s dropping me off.”
“Is she also going to help you get a rental car?”
Taylor nodded. “On my lunch.”
“Good. Sounds like you have everything in control.”
“Kara’s good at that.”
“I’d imagine.”
Taylor walked him to the front door, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, screwing up her courage to let Troy know she wouldn’t be going to the Valentine Ball. Just say it. Just say it. Just get it over with.
“Troy,” she said, as he reached for the door knob. “About the ball Friday night.”
He’d started to turn the knob but he released it and faced her. “Yes?”
He was so tall, so big, and movie star handsome that for a moment her mind went blank. For a moment she just stared at him, dazzled.
And then she blinked, and the moment passed, and she remembered why he was in town, and how the big ball was in just four days.
“I can’t go with you,” she said quickly, blurting the words before she could change her mind. “And I wanted to let you know now, so you’d have time to find another… date.”
Troy didn’t immediately speak. His jaw firmed and his dark blue gaze met hers. “Something came up?”
Taylor thought of all the different excuses she could give him—her brother needed her, she had a library conference to attend out of town, her parents would be in town—but she didn’t think it was fair to lie to him, especially not after he’d done her two favors.
He’d been quite the gentleman. She owed him the truth.
“I’m not a black-tie formal event kind of girl,” she said. “And I’m happy serving on the Wedding Giveaway committee, and selling tickets, but I never wanted to go to the ball. Unfortunately, Jane can be stubborn and doesn’t really listen.” Taylor’s voice dropped, deepening. “I’m sorry if I’m leaving you in the lurch, but honestly, there are so many women who’d probably love to go to the ball with you, and now… one of them can.”
Troy drove to the hotel bemused.
The little mouse, his prickly librarian, had just rejected him.
She didn’t want to go to the ball, and she definitely didn’t want to go with him.
Troy wasn’t sure how to react. Wasn’t sure if he should laugh, or turn his car around and ask her to explain. Why exactly had she told him no?
Because she wasn’t a black-tie kind of girl?
Because she didn’t want to go to a Valentine Ball?
His brow furrowed. He slowed as he turned into the Graff Hotel parking lot, windshield wipers moving quickly to bat away the falling snow.
He didn’t mind that she didn’t want to go. He actually was relieved. They clearly weren’t ever meant to be a couple.
And yet…he was so used to women chasing him, pursuing him, wanting him, that it was a bit of a surprise to meet a woman who didn’t want him.
At all.
Troy’s lips curved as he pulled before the hotel, and handed his keys to the red-cheeked valet attendant.
He’d been impressed by Taylor’s resume over the summer. He’d appreciated her experience and knowledge of modern library science, and now he was intrigued.
Why was she so determined not to attend the Valentine Ball with him? Because he had a sneaking suspicion that she would have gone…if he had been someone else.
The next morning an exhausted Taylor stood at the kitchen counter, drinking two cups of coffee and a lightly buttered slice of toast.
It had been next to impossible to fall back asleep last night, after Troy left.
She’d tossed and turned, mashing her pillow this way and that.
Sleep had been elusive. She couldn’t turn her brain off. And then when she did finally fall back asleep, she’d dreamed she was wearing this fancy pink prom gown with sparkly bits and little puffed sleeves and she was at the Graff Hotel for the Valentine Ball, only it wasn’t really the Graff Hotel’s 1914 ballroom, but an 1814 ballroom in London. Taylor was there with her brother and Jane and feeling very uncomfortable, very much a wallflower, and Jane kept whispering to Taylor about Lord Sheenan, and how handsome he was. Then suddenly somehow Lord Sheenan was asking Taylor to dance and they were twirling and waltzing around the dance floor…
It had all been so vivid, too.
Too vivid.
The ballroom, the gowns, the self-conscious feeling as she stood against a wall, wishing she were home instead of corseted into the ball gown.
And then the waltz, and the way Troy held her, and the feel of him against her.
She’d liked it.
She’d liked it so much she wasn’t even sure who had initiated the kiss. Him, or her.
That’s when she’d woken up. At the kiss.
The minute she’d woken she wanted to be asleep again, dreaming again. The dream was gone.
She told herself she was glad.
But really, she wasn’t.
And so baffled, and grouchy from lack of sleep, she finished the last of her cup, rinsed up her breakfast dishes, and then declined Kara’s ride to the library, thinking she needed the walk in the frigid morning air to clear her head.
So bundled up in her winter boots and heavy coat, with her striped scarf wrapped around her neck, Taylor walked the ten blocks to the library, down Bramble Lane, the sidewalk mostly shoveled clean and salted.
She had made the right decision about the ball. She was smart to have told him she didn’t want to go. He had plenty of time still to find a date. And this way she could sta
y home Friday night, and curl up with a book.
She’d be so happy reading. She’d be so very content.
She would, she silently insisted. She loved her books. It was the right decision and she was one hundred percent certain that Troy Sheenan would agree.
On break mid-morning at the library, Taylor made calls, filed reports and begged the Bozeman insurance adjustor to go see her car as soon as it was towed to Marietta’s body shop, instead of waiting until the next available opening, which was next week.
Then during her lunch, Kara picked up Taylor from in front of the library and drove her to Marietta’s only car dealer to pick up a loaner car for the next week.
The loaner car was an older four-wheel drive Jeep, and sketchy at best, but it was a car and it ran, so it was something.
Taylor had hoped to grab a sandwich on her way back to the library but time ran out and she ended up back at work without eating anything. By the time the Tuesday Night Book Club arrived at five thirty for their meeting, Taylor was dragging.
She needed food, and coffee, or just a big cup of coffee.
But there was no time to get anything before the book club discussion began and after an hour and a half Taylor’s energy and patience was running low.
She loved her job here in Marietta. She loved this library, too.
Although to be quite honest, right now, Taylor wanted to be anywhere but sequestered in the upstairs conference room with the Tuesday Night Book Group. Her stomach was growling, her head starting to throb from hunger, and she still had the Wedding Giveaway meeting to attend. And Taylor couldn’t make it to tonight’s wedding committee meeting until she emptied and secured the second floor meeting room for the night.
Emptying the room of this chatty, opinionated group was never easy, but tonight it was starting to appear impossible since three of the founding members of the Tuesday Night Book Club did not like the new chamber director and did not approve of the wedding giveaway in the first place.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Taylor said, raising her voice to be heard over the fifteen women, and one man, that made up the group. “But we really do need to wrap up. As I mentioned at the beginning of tonight’s discussion, I must get to the committee meeting downstairs—”
Maureen continued talking as if Taylor had not spoken.
Taylor pursed her lips, struggling to keep her temper in check. Maureen was one of the ladies that had made Jane’s life miserable last November and December and it was difficult for Taylor to be in the same room with Maureen. Taylor had little patience for people who had nothing better to do than complain, criticize, and make others miserable.
Unfortunately, it was also Taylor’s responsibility to sit in on the various book group meetings and help guide the discussion. It was time to guide this discussion to a closure. She cleared her throat and rose from her chair. “It’s time to wrap up,” she said firmly. “Sadly, we can’t go late tonight—”
“Why not?” Maureen demanded, interrupting Taylor with a question she already knew the answer to. “We always go late.”
“We’ve always been allowed to go as long as we want,” Virginia chimed in. Virginia was Maureen’s best friend and minion. “I can’t remember the last time we had to end at seven thirty.”
“You know the Wedding Giveaway committee meeting is about to start downstairs,” Taylor said, “and I can’t join that meeting until one ends, so let’s wrap up, and you can continue at the Java Café if you’re still wanting to continue your discussion.”
“So how are those tickets selling?” Maureen asked, leaning back in her chair and folded her arms across her stout chest.
“I think the committee said they are at two thirds of their goal,” Taylor answered, stacking her book and notepad together and then reaching for the novel. “It would have been nice to sell out, but we’ve almost one hundred and fifty people attending, and that’s fantastic.”
“Apparently half of those attending have been given tickets to make the event appear successful,” Maureen sniffed. “But I’m not surprised you’d have to do that. Who around here can afford to attend a party that costs two hundred dollars?”
Taylor breathed in, and out, her pleasant smile never once faltering. She’d been a shy little girl, and a quiet, polite, and accommodating teenager. She’d never given her parents any difficulty, and it’d been a shock to all when Doug began having issues in middle school. Her parents didn’t know how to cope with a troubled son. They must have made a pact not to deal with it…or him. Their failure to take action had made a lasting impression on Taylor.
“I don’t believe that’s true, Maureen,” she said now. “Yes, big donors and underwriters have been given tickets in exchange for sponsoring the ball, but the committee has sold the majority of the tickets, and it’s not two hundred per person, it’s two hundred per couple, and that covers dinner, dancing, wine at dinner, and pictures.”
Maureen grimaced and stood up, loudly scraping her chair against the hardwood floor. “You’d have to pay me to attend a black-tie ball that’s being held to launch a wedding contest. Only a Californian would come up with an idea as ridiculous as that.”
Taylor opened her mouth to protest, wanting to remind them that the wedding contest was the 100 year anniversary of Marietta’s 1914 Great Wedding Giveaway, but the group was rising, and gathering their things, and Taylor realized she’d lost that battle. Better to just let them all go.
As the room cleared, Taylor stashed her notepad and book in her leather satchel before checking her phone. A missed call from Jane. Nothing from Doug. Good.
She then went around the room, pushing in chairs, picking up scraps of paper left behind before turning off the lights, locking the door and heading downstairs to the main floor, taking the stairs quickly.
“Off to the wedding committee meeting?” Louise, the children’s librarian, asked, passing the foot of the stairs with three children in tow. One of the little girls was Paige Joffee’s daughter and the black haired little boy had to be McKenna’s son, TJ.
“On my way now,” Taylor answered, smiling as TJ chased two little girls around the plant in the lobby corner.
“Apparently Troy Sheenan will be at the meeting, too,” Louise said. “Don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s quite something. Marietta’s most eligible bachelor and all that.”
Taylor arched her eyebrows and pushed her glasses up higher on her nose. Did everyone have a thing for him? “Hadn’t heard,” she said, trying very hard not to remember her dream last night… and the almost-kiss.
“Jane sent me a text saying she hadn’t been able to reach you, but she wanted me to know, which is why I’ve been hovering a bit in the lobby. I was hoping to give him a hug. I like the Sheenan boys. They’ve done well for themselves. Very successful young men. Well, all but Trey. Trey’s in and out of trouble, but he’s not a bad person. He’s a sweetheart, he is. He was always my favorite Sheenan.” She nodded at the boy who was still chasing the little girls around the potted plant. “See that little guy there? TJ is Trey’s boy, and the spitting image of him, too.”
Taylor caught a glimpse of TJ’s laughing blue eyes and dimples before he chased the little girls in the opposite direction, towards the children’s reading room. “No. TJ is McKenna’s son.”
“And Trey’s son.”
Taylor frowned. “Trey and McKenna?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“They were quite the item. For years.” Louise wiggled her fingers, saying goodbye as she raced after the laughing children.
Dillon found Troy in the big Sheenan barn feeding the horses. “You’re going to be late,” Dillon said, closing the barn door behind him. “Doesn’t the meeting start at seven thirty?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s after seven now.”
“I know.” Troy brushed feed off his hands, and then wiped his hands on the back of his butt, feeling the stiff denim. “I don’t want to do this. Dreading
this meeting.”
“It was your idea,” Dillon said.
“The ball wasn’t.”
“But saving the hotel was.”
True, Troy thought, adding water to the trough inside one stall.
And what a terrible mistake that had been.
But Troy wouldn’t say that out loud, not even to his brother. It’d kill him to admit that restoring the Graff Hotel to its former splendor had the potential to bankrupt him. He should have never invested so much of his own money in one project. A smart investor didn’t shell out that much of one’s capital. It’d been a mistake to buy the hotel for cash, and even more risky to funnel so much capital into the property. He should have pulled back from the renovation when he realized it was a money pit. But he’d been too proud, too stupid, and too emotionally attached to the project to do the smart thing when he could.
Thank God he was a fighter, and tough. He’d knuckle his way through this battle, because he was nowhere ready to give up on the hotel.
The hotel had only been reopened for six months, after the two and a half year restoration. It’d been a huge job restoring the hotel because it’d been abandoned, boarded up, for over forty years before that. But you wouldn’t know it looking at the hotel today. The Graff’s grand lobby glowed with rich paneled wood, marble, and gleaming light fixtures, while the grand ballroom and smaller reception rooms sparkled with glittering chandeliers.
And yes, the hotel had virtually zero occupancy since early January, but December had been a good month, with the introduction of festive afternoon tea and company holiday parties on the weekends. But what they needed to do was fill the rooms all the time, because even empty, there were still salaries and bills to pay.
But the hotel was special. She was one of a kind. And while he regretted that restoring her had the power to cost him his company and financial security, he was glad he’d saved her.
Someone had to.
Now he just needed to continue focusing on turning things around, and the hotel staff would. He had a good team here, and everyone in management was committed to making the Graff successful. Troy knew that eventually they could get the hotel into the black. It wasn’t impossible.
