by Mary Manners
“Of course you’re right. That’s why you’re the expert.” Lila straightened and smoothed a wrinkle from her pencil skirt. Why hadn’t she worn more sensible shoes, along with the hairband she’d forgotten? The breeze tumbled her hair over her shoulders and into her eyes. She brushed it back with her fingers. “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Haynes.”
“Good grief, call me Morgan. We’ll be working together from this point on, elbow to elbow, so let’s just shelve the formalities.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad we’re finally here together. Those phone conversations and the tedious exchange of emails was getting old fast.” Morgan scanned the length of her, pausing at the area just below her knees, where the hem of the skirt skimmed her skin, before rising up to tag her gaze once again. “You look different than I expected.”
“How so?”
“Just…” He shrugged and tucked the sunglasses into the collar of his polo shirt. “…softer. From your tone during our conversations I expected more of the drill-sergeant type—short hair, loafers, no nail polish or make-up. The no-nonsense type.”
“Loafers?” Lila chuckled. “Well, despite my more feminine attire and the fact that I prefer to wear my hair long and my nails groomed, I am certainly no-nonsense when it comes to business decisions.”
“Yes, that is one footnote that rang through loud and clear, right from the get-go.”
“I suppose your round-about sort of compliment warrants a thank you, so…thank you.” Lila tossed her length of hair back over one shoulder and checked the buttons on her blouse. Morgan regarded her as if he could see right through her. What had he expected—that she’d sport three heads, each with a cyclops eye? “Well, I’m ready to get this project started if you are.”
“Oh, I’m beyond ready. But wait just one more minute. I almost forgot something important.” He turned and jogged a few steps back toward the car. He leaned into the open ragtop and lifted a bulky package from the passenger seat. “Here you go.”
“Flowers…you brought me flowers?” Lila pressed the generous cluster of wildflower blooms to her nose and inhaled the sweet promise of spring. “They’re absolutely lovely, and wildflowers are my favorite.”
“I figured a girl like you would prefer roses, but I’m glad these will do. I thought they were pretty.”
“They are beautiful. And they’re absolutely perfect. Wildflowers top my list. But why did you do this? I didn’t expect—”
“I know you didn’t. That’s what makes it extra special. And I suppose I should warn you that I’m full of surprises. This has been a huge project already…the dream, the vision, the plans. You should have something to commemorate the beginning of the final stage—construction.”
“Thank you, Morgan. That’s so sweet.” Lila gently stroked the blooms. “You’re really sweet.”
“Well, I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never sweet. So, you’re welcome.” He bowed elegantly and then rose again to turn once more toward the car. He grabbed a ball cap from the seat and tugged it low on his head to shield his eyes from the sun. “Now, lead the way if you can manage in those non-loafer shoes. Which, I might add, I find highly appealing.”
“No worries.” Lila hid a grimace as her toes pinched in the pumps. She warmed at the thought that he found her appealing, yet chastised herself for her poor wardrobe choice. What was she thinking this morning to don footwear so unsuitable for the day’s tasks? Maybe Morgan’s suggestion of loafers wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Her entire outfit was more appropriate for a day spent behind a desk—not roaming the grounds of the winding, spacious Victorian. She adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder and turned once more toward the narrow walkway that led to the house.
The breeze suddenly kicked up, skittering fallen leaves along the curb. As Lila gazed skyward through the weathered glass of the Victorian’s front turret, a shadow crossed the window. Her pulse shuddered at the thought of an intruder in the house.
“Did you see that?” She motioned toward the window.
“What?” Morgan followed her gaze.
“Up there…in the window.” She squinted and shielded her eyes against the sun for a better look. “I saw something.”
“Probably just a reflection of a tree limb.”
“Maybe.” She strained her gaze, but the scrutiny found no further sign of movement.
She shrugged off the idea of an unwelcome visitor lurking along the property. Only she and the realtor had been in the house during the past year. Morgan had yet to step inside. His work had all been done through research, using the architectural plans and a computer program. He had yet to see the guts of the structure firsthand.
Lila brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. This sunlight has my eyes playing tricks on me. Morgan’s right, I must have seen a tree limb dancing in the breeze.
“Are you OK?” Notepad in hand, Morgan eased in close and took her by the elbow. “Let me help you. This gravel is tricky. It’s definitely on the to-do list to repave this lot for easier access and parking.”
“I’m OK. I just thought…well, I really thought I saw someone lurking in the turret window. It looked like a woman dressed in an old-fashioned gown…you know, with a high-buttoned collar.” Lila demonstrated by cupping a hand above her collarbone. “But I suppose you would have seen her too. I simply saw the reflection of a tree branch or a passing cloud.”
“No clouds in the sky today.” Morgan motioned toward the rich expanse of blue above them. “Look…nothing but an ocean of sunshine.”
“Right.” Lila hesitated as she gave the window a final curt scan before drawing her attention back to Morgan. “Then it was a shadow of some sort. There are plenty of trees along the front yard.”
“Yeah.” Morgan nodded as he rubbed the scruff along his chin. “So, you’re probably right on that count. But I still have to ask…have you seen them yet?”
“Seen who?”
“The spirits that are said to be here. I’ve done a little research of my own on this property. Rumor has it that the house took so long to sell because people believe something lingers inside…something not of this world.” He motioned toward the second-floor turret where a pane of glass was fractured by a jagged gash. The damage was one of the many reasons Lila had been able to snatch this building for a song from the realty company. “By all accounts this place is…well, some would assert that it’s haunted.”
“That’s simply an old wives’ tale.” Lila sniffed and the pollen from a cluster of Bradford pear trees along the drive made her sneeze. When she’d caught her breath and thanked Morgan for his God bless you, she continued. “This house is nothing of the sort. Talk like that is just…well, it’s merely superstition. I would prefer to keep such rumors where they belong—out of the limelight.”
“OK, but I’m not the one who’s seeing shadows.” Morgan tucked his car keys into his pocket. “Anyway, why don’t we shelve the so-called rumors until later and get this party started?”
“Yes, let’s.” She nodded stiffly to drive the point home. “And I saw the reflection of a tree limb. You were right; that’s all it was. Nothing more.”
Yet, now she wasn’t so sure.
“Of course you did.” He tucked the notebook beneath one arm. “Ready to head inside?”
“Oh…I’m more than ready. I think I may have seen a vase for these flowers in an upstairs room.” The previous owners had left several pieces of furniture and a flurry of belongings—almost as if they’d left in a hurry. “And the water should be running—I called the company last week to have it turned back on.”
“All systems are go, then.”
“They are.” Lila felt a tiny trill of excitement at what lay in store. Her life-long dream to own her own business was taking flight now—at this very moment. She’d be her own boss, make the boutique exactly what she wanted it to be. Her imagination—and her budget—were the only limits. The very thought was almost surreal. She stepped carefully along the g
ravel drive, holding her balance as she crossed to the stairs. “And, Mr. American Idol Wannabe, I can manage in these shoes just fine.”
“Sure you can.” Morgan covered his mouth with one hand, but Lila heard his light snickers. He bowed once more as he swept his free hand across the drive. “After you, princess. Let’s go.”
2
The house was a true diamond in the rough. Morgan found genuine character in the place—even more than had been evident in the countless photos and video footage Lila had sent over the previous months. Once the restoration project was completed, the community would surely flock to see the turn-of-the-century building reestablished to its original beauty. Whether or not that would equate to an outpouring of business for Lila Brooks remained to be seen.
She wanted a state-of-the-art bridal boutique in a history-laced, turn-of-the-century structure. The very thought served as a paradox, yet Morgan looked forward to his role in the challenge. His task was to blend the two dynamics without destroying the character of the building.
Upon his initial research of the premises, he’d thought the place might better serve as a bed and breakfast. But he hadn’t done an in-depth market analysis. Lila had taken time to do exactly that before applying for a construction loan. By all accounts, she found the bank in agreement with her venture and more than willing to back her plan. The woman was driven and thorough, and if she wanted a bridal shop then he’d do his best to give her the bridal shop of her dreams.
Morgan shook his head at the thought. What was it with women and their quest to experience the perfect wedding day? Was there really such a thing as perfect when it came to the chaos and uncertainty of blending the lives of two people, even if they professed to be madly in love? And, more important than the flowers, invitations, music, and attire, surely it was what came after all the hullabaloo and festivities that paved the way to a strong marriage—not the actual event itself.
Not that he was an expert on marriage or even looking to head in the direction of a matrimonial altar. He just didn’t understand people who targeted all their efforts—not to mention a small fortune—on planning the revelries just to have their marriage tossed on the burn pile as soon as the shine wore off.
No thanks. Not me.
If he ever chose to traverse the matrimonial highway—and as things stood at the current moment, the possibility was slim at best—he’d detour away from an over-the-top reception and choose instead to focus on the vows themselves. Keep things simple and heartfelt. After all, if he was going to trust his heart—as well as his life and future—with a woman, he’d need to know that she’d stick around when the going got tough, as it was bound to from time to time. Life played out like the ebb and flow of an ocean tide. He longed for a partner to navigate the waves without losing her cool and her True North. Experience told him the pickings in that department were lean, yet he hoped for a miracle when the time was right.
Not now, though. Not here, because Lila Brooks, with her fancy aspirations toward matrimonial Nirvana, carried a slim-to-none chance of sharing his philosophy on the marriage subject. Talk about residing in a different universe.
Yet she favored the spill of wildflowers he’d brought over a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. Go figure.
Morgan had no desire to shop for embossed invitations or an elaborate cake that looked like a masterpiece but tasted like processed cardboard. And a truck full of wedding flowers would simply die within days—a week at the most. He worked too hard to unload his cash on overpriced baubles that would merely fade into the sunset as soon as the banquet hall lights were extinguished.
No siree…the entire over-the-top wedding style just wasn’t his way of doing things. Never was one of his ambitions. Never would be.
“This is one of the walls I mentioned removing in an attempt to help the area appear more spacious.” Lila’s heels clicked along the wood floor as she crossed the room. Her earrings caught a ray of sunlight that filtered through the dirt-splattered windows, sending bright sparkles along the wall. They’d moved inside, and the aroma of cedar mingled with age and dust. Morgan loved the sweet, musky smell that signaled a plethora of never-ending possibilities. The floorboards creaked as Lila traversed the area, so he jotted a look at the joists, which held a spot near the top of his mental to-do list. “Do you think such a thing is do-able?”
“Yes, I can make that happen.” Morgan found it more than a little difficult to concentrate on the structural integrity of the building with Lila at his side. Her fancy, high-heeled shoes were ridiculous. She’d clearly spent little if any time in a construction zone. But he couldn’t fault her for having a solid vision while looking better than a hot fudge sundae on a sunny summer afternoon. Plus, the floral scent of her perfume offered a pleasant balance to the mustiness around them. “But you mentioned more than one wall we’d need to work with. Can you show me what you have in mind?”
“Yes. I was thinking of that far one, as well.” She motioned and Morgan followed her lead to an area off to their left. He took one look and frowned.
“That one’s weight-bearing. I can remove it, but we’ll have to add a column to stabilize this section of the floor above.”
“Oh…I was hoping to keep the entire area open.” She frowned. “And a column sounds expensive.”
“We can discuss the cost later. But with a column this space will still be largely open. Without one, the floor above will eventually destabilize and possibly even come crashing down. That sort of defeats the purpose of an open concept, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” She smoothed a hand along the wall, her palm brushing aside flakes of peeling paint. “Bill Lakin said you’re the best at this type of renovation project and I have no reason to doubt him. I’m going to trust you to make this area completely functional while keeping it as eye-appealing as possible. I want my customers to feel at home here…comfortable and unhurried.”
“I won’t let you down.” Morgan drew a pad of paper and a pencil from his back pocket and jotted a few notes. “I didn’t temporarily relocate all the way from Nashville and put every other project on hold just to fall on my face here.”
“Please don’t take offense,” Lila murmured. “I know you’re the best at what you do. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“I know.” Though she was direct and to-the-point, he sensed a gentleness about her. She wouldn’t harm a fly if she could help it. “Besides, I’ve got tougher skin than that. I’m like Teflon. So, let’s move on.”
Together, they wound slowly through the house, detailing each task. Lila knew what she wanted and had no problem expressing her opinions and concerns. She carried an air of confidence mingled with an undercurrent of vulnerability that appealed to Morgan. He took his eyes off her only long enough to jot quick notes. It had been months since he’d felt the inclination—or even the interest—in dating a woman, but as the afternoon hours whittled away he found himself wondering what an evening out with Lila might be like.
The feeling grew stronger as they climbed the stairs toward the second story. Sunlight spilled through an array of cobwebs as the landing opened to a pair of turrets toward the east end of both the front and back of the house. A long hallway connected them, the floor an expanse of sturdy solid oak planks buried beneath a film of dust and grime. The wear and tear was nothing a good buff and polish couldn’t restore. Across the hall, the floor fanned wide into a huge loft punctuated by a grand balcony. With a little work, the space would prove perfect for the spectacular showroom Lila had mentioned.
For a moment, Morgan paused to envision the finished rooms in all their glory. Warmth cascaded through his chest, dancing around his ribs as the rush of a breeze whispered through fractured glass along the front turret.
Welcome home, Morgan.
“What did you say?” Morgan turned to Lila, but found she had wandered across the hall to explore a closed door at the far corner of the loft. He studied her as she smoothed a hand over the solid oak and then grasped the kn
ob. It refused to turn—the door must be locked. He imagined a century-old skeleton key would do the trick, and wondered if Lila was in possession of the hardware.
“I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking that I’m just so excited to get this project officially underway.” She stepped back from the door and turned toward him. In the late-afternoon light that spilled through the glass, diamonds seemed to dance in her hair, while her eyes sparkled like polished onyx. “I’m so thankful to you for agreeing to help me.”
“I’m honored that you trust me enough to captain the helm here.” Morgan’s gut did a funny little two-step as he struggled to tear his gaze from her. His vision swam. For the slightest moment he lost his bearings. This sort of reaction was unusual to the extreme…he’d never felt it before. What was it about Lila? He shook his head and fought for balance as he redirected his thoughts and motioned toward the door. “What’s on the other side of that?”
“I assume there’s a staircase to the third floor, but I’m not sure. It’s locked and I don’t think the realtor gave me a key. Can you have one made for me?”
“I’ll take a look and see what I can do. What’s up on the third floor?”
“According to the realtor, there’s just a storage area. I haven’t seen it. I…” She paused, her lips curved into a sheepish grin. “Well, I trusted her when she asserted there’s no structural damage that can’t be easily set to rights.”
“I see.” Morgan might not have been so trusting. He’d been burned a time or two during his early construction days and had learned to sift through every detail of a project or a real estate purchase with a fine-toothed comb. He’d have a key made, find his way through the door, and inspect the space ASAP. He felt the undeniable urge to explore the attic now—he could easily remove the door from its hinges in lieu of a key—but he reined it in.
“I’m glad you agreed to transplant yourself from Nashville for the next month or so to get this done for me.” Lila smiled. “Especially considering we’d never even met face-to-face until this afternoon, so you know me only through remote correspondence. It’s a huge sacrifice and I appreciate it. I appreciate you, Morgan.”
