Chapter Seven
The weeks that followed the takeover came and went with little hindrance as everyone fell in unison supporting their fellow staff members with the various positions and responsibilities that came along with their new contract. Charlotte had spent more time then she wished to admit studying the outlines of past accounts hoping that in time she would be able to emulate the skills of Hayward Fissicle’s current employees. By the looks of prior documents it was quite clear that their new shareholder liked things done in a particular manner, from the technique of filing briefs to the never ending documentation of client based conversations- the man was a stickler for systematization. And while she had total trust in Nicholas and his promise to not leave any of his staff blindsided, Charlotte couldn’t help but feel concerned at the possibility of Fissicle laying off the Leisure Me Ready stragglers who hadn’t been able to keep pace with the fast moving bridal magazine.
Staring at her reflection in the full length closet mirror Charlotte adjusted her cashmere sweater turning this way and that as she harshly judged the reflection gazing back at her. With her heeled leather boots on she stood at 5’7, the stilettos adding a good three inches to her petite height of 5’4, and while she typically felt comfortable wearing high heels a sudden ray of insecurities had begun to settle in. Making plans with Jeremy for an evening out on the town had seemed like a romantic fourth date, but as the hour drew nearer the idea of getting dolled up to impress someone she barely knew felt like a total waste of time. If I wear heels I’ll be taller than him, but flats look terrible with these jeans . . . it’s not like he’s that short, she sighed inwardly. If anything I could walk a few inches away from him- so that no one would notice . . . .
Shrugging she turned off the light to her walk in closet before quickly making her way through her un-kept apartment. Grabbing her purse and keys off of the corner wall table Charlotte wrestled with the idea of canceling. Silently she wondered if the process was worth all of the stress, picking out the right shoes, the right outfit . . . it all seemed silly. “No man is worth that much effort,” she mumbled aloud allowing the locked door to slam shut behind her.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte strived to keep her eyes open as she fumbled for her keys in the dim lit hallway. The night hadn’t been a total disaster- walking through the streets of Manhattan was nice, the light meal shared between them was nice as was the night cap at his apartment. Still, from the moment she saw him standing by the light pole in front of the corner bakery on 8th street she couldn’t help but want to be elsewhere.
Stepping into her flat Charlotte squinted in an attempt to adjust her eyes in the darkness. I thought I turned on the living room lamp before I left, she thought dropping her purse and keys on the wall table console before making her way down the long hallway that led to the kitchen. Flipping on the light switch she gasped taken aback at the cleanliness of the place. Pots and pans lay flat on her counter space drying while utensils filled her dish strainer pointing this way and that as water dripped off of them. The smell of lemon and pine filled her senses causing her nose to twitch subtly. With a faint smile on her lips Charlotte sauntered into the living room removing her shoes as she did so dropping them along the way. Turning the corner she paused at the end of the couch tilting her head as she stared down at the man she had grown so fond of in the short time they had known one another. Although it had only been two years since they had had their first encounter it seemed like an eternity ago, somehow he had become her closest confidant- the only person she felt she could truly depend on. Without thought she turned on the end table lamp folding her arms across her chest as she sat on the shoulder of the couch crossing her legs in front of her.
Nicholas twisted his face squeezing his eyes shut in protest to the sudden brightness of the room. “Turn off the light,” he complained covering his face with his forearm.
“Breaking and entering again I see . . . it would be nice if you called to give me the heads up that you’re coming over.”
“It’s not breaking in if I used a key,” he sighed turning away from the brightness emanating from the lamp.
“You only have permission to use that key in case of emergencies . . . was there an emergency that I didn’t know about?” she teased leaning forward allowing her body to rest against his.
Nicholas adjusted his frame under hers turning so that their faces were only inches apart. Narrowing his greys he watched her closely- their sudden closeness causing a curious sensation to start in the pit of his stomach, the feeling was one that he wasn’t quite accustomed to. “How was your date?” he asked breaking the silence that stretched on between them.
Charlotte gazed down at him lost in the bottomless pool of silver, his full lips, and unruly chestnut brown hair. God, he’s gorgeous, she sighed inwardly fighting to keep those lurking thoughts at bay. Charlotte, quit it! She admonished herself frustrated that the notion of his looks had even become a factor. Don’t be messy . . . he’s your best friend . . . don’t be messy.
“Dimple?” he whispered tucking stray hairs behind her ears his expression unreadable. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” she shrugged leaning away from him. “Thanks for washing the dishes,” she smiled wanting nothing more than to change the direction of their conversation.
Nicholas furrowed his brows, confusion paramount. “Not a problem.”
“I’m going to call it a night . . . I’m exhausted . . . .”
“Is that your way of asking me to leave?” he asked dismayed by the sudden change in her demeanor.
“Nicholas, you know that you’re always welcomed to stay,” she sighed. “I’m just- tired.”
He moved then. Pulling her back toward him, Nicholas asked, “Is that all? You’re just tired?”
“Yes,” she answered her voice barely above a whisper.
With one hand on either side of her face Nicholas tilted Charlotte’s head back forcing her to look into his deep greys. Blinking rapidly she attempted to turn her head needing to break the contact, but her effort was in vain, his vice like grip too strong to sway. Gazing into his molten mercury eyes she felt like she was falling forward, fast, and hard.
“Are you sure?” he pressed narrowing his eyes at her.
“Yes.”
“. . . . okay. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said releasing her from his hold, his stare never wavering. “Sweet dreams,” he mumbled kissing the top of her head before backing away from her. Standing Nicholas rounded the couch and headed for the door.
“Don’t leave,” Charlotte said suddenly, feeling abashed by the neediness in her tone.
Turning to face her once more Nicholas frowned regarding her intently. “You just said-”
“Just stay,” she shrugged apologetically. Her thoughts were all over the place as were her feelings and while she hated not being able to explain either to Nicholas she felt that omission was necessary until she had clear reign over what she was feeling toward him. The out of sight, out of mind approach worked well. When she was free from the temptation of his scent, his demeanor, his charm- the thought of Nicholas as anything other than her best friend seemed aberrant. However, when he was standing so close, the heat of his body, the hunted smell of his cologne, the way he looked at her- there was an unspoken chemistry that forced her to see him beyond the means of friendship, in those moments he was a man, and she was a woman- and in her mind those thin lines became easily blurred.
“I’ll stay if you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s-”
“Dimple . . . what’s wrong?”
“I just,” she shook her head in defeat looking away from him seemingly embarrassed. “Um- I just . . . I-”
The sudden sound coming from her phone caught her attention causing her to jump. Turning away from him she inhaled deeply grateful for the interruption.
“Dimple,” he called after her.
“It might be an important call,” she answered lamely.
“And this isn’t important?” Nicholas asked exasperated.
Pulling the device from her purse, she glowered. One missed call- unknown number. Dialing -1 she brought the phone to her ear, her face contorted into a broken mask at the sound of her mother’s voice.
Charli . . . it’s mom. Daddy’s sick . . . and he’s asking for you. He needs you here . . . we all do. Please come home sweetie. I love you . . . .
Charlotte dropped her phone unable to maintain a steady grip on the object that had transferred the life shattering news. My dad’s sick . . . is he dying? He can’t be dying, right? God wouldn’t let him die . . . would he? Covering her wet face with shaking hands Charlotte fell to her knees ignoring the sting of the carpet on her forearms. Nicholas was by her side instantly pulling her into him, his arms wrapped tightly around her quivering body.
“What happened?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“My dad,” she cried unable to speak the words aloud. “My dad.”
Chapter Nine
The dark skies of the early morning hours slowly transformed into an array of colorful hues as dawn made its presence known. Charlotte shifted in the passenger seat opening her eyes to catch glimpses of Nicholas. His expression was a serious one as he stared at the long road ahead of him. Stretching in the confined space Charlotte rolled down the window thankful for the bitter breeze that blew into the cream Chrysler 300. They were still on I-95; it felt like they would never make it off the highway. It was by far the longest 195 miles she would ever have to travel.
“You’re hot?” Nicholas asked turning the nozzle toward him lowering the temperature of the heat that was jetting out at full speed.
“Heat makes me sleepy . . . I want to stay awake,” she answered her voice barely above an octave. Fear overrode her thoughts making it impossible for her to focus on anything other than the image of her once vigorous father lying stiffly on his back unable to perform the daily routines that people in good health generally take for granted.
“If you’re tired, sleep,” he ordered.
“I’m fine. Let’s talk . . . distract me.”
Nicholas rested the back of his head against the seat in deep contemplation. There was plenty on his mind, but the solemn mood brought on by the unraveling of unfortunate events gave him reason to pause. Feeling restless Charlotte groaned aloud roughly combing her fingers through her hair. The silence was deafening as the feeling of dread consumed her. She needed something, anything, to be a haven of absolute distraction.
“Call your mom,” Nicholas said after a while making quick glances at her as he changed lanes.
Charlotte shook her head adamantly. “No.” She hadn’t called her mother in a little over two years, and she didn’t need to make an exception. “We’ll be in Baltimore in less than an hour. I’ll find out what’s going on then.”
“Calling her would take away unnecessary anxiety, and at least then you’d know exactly what’s going on with your father.”
“I said, no, now would you drop it,” she snapped.
Nicholas nodded, but didn’t respond. Merging into the far left lane he readjusted his weight in the seat striving to get comfortable. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Charlotte stared blankly out the window. Every part of his being yearned to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, but he knew that she would pull away from him, that she would reject the solace offered in the protection of his arms. There was a hard-ness about her that he never fully understood, like a shell that wouldn’t submit to the idea of being cracked she was unbelievably introverted giving nothing away, yet drawing him into her as if he were under a spell.
“Nicholas?” she whispered breaking him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I had no right yelling at you . . . I know that you’re only trying to help.”
“It’s okay,” he said seemingly un-phased by her temper. “You’re forgiven.”
Charlotte smiled briefly the expression faltering before it reached her eyes. “Am I?”
“Always.”
“Nicholas?”
“Dimple?”
“About earlier . . . at my place . . . I don’t want you to-”
“I almost forgot Fissicle stopped by my office today,” Nicholas said suddenly interrupting her. “He dropped off a few promotional gifts.” He knew where their conversation was headed and in that moment that particular conversation wasn’t one to be had. As far as he was concerned she had had enough on her mind, and everything else could wait.
“Oh?”
“Look in my duffle bag.”
Charlotte turned in her seat stretching her torso backward in search for the travel bags that lined the car floor. Is this it? She wondered pulling on the first heavy bag she could reach. Squeezing the sack through the small space of the front seats she sat it on her lap wasting little time opening the large carrier careful not to snag his clothes with the zipper. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“You’ll see it.”
“How many outfits did you pack?” she laughed in spite of herself as she looked through his luggage.
“When traveling you can never be too prepared,” he replied his laughter an imitation of hers.
Charlotte bit her lip at the sight of a ring box under his perfectly folded cardigans. “What’s this?” she asked dumbly.
“What does it look like? Open it.”
Charlotte opened the small square box exposing a sky blue topaz diamond. “A ring,” she gasped taking it from the safety of its box. “Can I try it on?”
Nicholas nodded his approval at her request.
“It’s my size.”
“Do you like it?”
“Are you serious?” she choked amazed at how it shined. “I love it. Fissicle gave this to you?”
“Amongst other things. The magazine is advertising this ring as our feature for the month of January.”
“And so he just gave it to you? The price of this ring is probably more than what I make in a month.” When he didn’t respond she probed, “How much is it? Two thousand? Three?” Charlotte guessed happy for the sudden distraction.
“Seven,” he said his tone impassive.
“Seven thousand dollars! There is seven thousand dollars on my finger right now?” she gushed. “And he just gave it to you? Just like that he handed you a seven thousand dollar ring, for free?” The idea of it all was too insane for her to fathom. “Rich people do the craziest things.”
Nicholas chuckled at her giddiness over something so small. “Keep it.”
“What?”
“Keep it,” he repeated.
“Why on earth would you give me something so precious?” she asked but was answered with silence. “Are you sure?” Charlotte frowned knotting her brows together. “This isn’t just something you give away on a whim.”
“It looks good on you,” he declared ignoring her need to make logic out of the situation.
Charlotte eyed him curiously, but remained silent. Holding out her hand she admired the beautiful specs of turquoise that popped in the morning sun rays. “Thank you,” she smiled at him inadvertently missing the sign she had been inwardly dreading. Welcome to Maryland.
Chapter Ten
“Dimple, we have to go in eventually,” Nicholas sighed leaning his car seat back as far as it would go.
“I know. I know,” she groaned. “Just give me a few more minutes.”
“You said that a few minutes ago,” he laughed. “I thought you were anxious to find out what was going on with your dad . . . you can’t do that sitting in the car.”
Closing her eyes Charlotte inhaled deeply. You can do this . . . just go in there and . . . and . . . and . . .
“Dimple?”
Charlotte jumped. “Sorry. Let’s just go to the hotel . . . I’ll come back later.”
“Later?”
“Yup. Let’s go.”
Nicholas watched her intently. “Are you sure?” he asked bemused by her actions.
Charlotte let ou
t a strained breath. “I can’t go in there,” she mumbled.
“Why not?”
“I haven’t spoken to my family in a little over two years, and honestly, I had no intention of speaking to them anytime soon . . . .”
Nicholas nodded his head patiently waiting for her to continue. In all honesty he had always wondered about Charlotte’s estranged relationship with her family but her reticent disposition gave him reason to pause whenever he thought to ask the back story behind their distance.
“Whatever . . . we’re here now. Let’s go in,” she said decidedly opening the door in one quick motion. The frigid Baltimore wind slammed into her unremorsefully stinging her face with a vengeance. “We’ll just stay long enough to find out what hospital my dad was taken to, and then we can leave.”
Nicholas grabbed her trembling hand giving it a reassuring squeeze as they approached the long stoned sidewalk. Tilting her head back she met his gaze a small smile touched her lips briefly more for his benefit than hers.
“Knock,” he urged her once they reached the large hunter green door.
Groaning in frustration Charlotte turned her face into his chest fighting the impulse to run back to the car. She thought that she could face her mother, but in truth she was still so angry, still so embarrassed. “I can’t,” she exhaled. “I changed my mind . . . let’s go back home. I’ll call and check on him when we get back to the city.”
Nicholas pulled Charlotte to him holding her quivering body against his. “You’ll thank me later,” he whispered into her hair knocking on the door more forcefully than what he had intended.
“No,” she pleaded panic stricken. “Let go of me,” she screeched under her breath.
“Charlotte!” Babet Toutant squealed throwing her arms around her daughter. “Manuel! Manuel! She’s home!”
Manuel? “Daddy’s here?” Charlotte asked bewildered.
“And who is this?” Babet beamed pulling Nicholas into a warm embrace. “Come in! Come in!”
“Hello, Ms. Toutant,” Nicholas smiled at the middle aged woman. “I’m Nicholas.”
A Winter's Kiss (A Winter's Tale Book 1) Page 4
