Fifteen Weekends
Christy Pastore
Pen Name Publishing
www.pennamepublishing.com
Pen Name Publishing
Copyright ©2014 by Christy Pastore
First edition, 2014
Cover Design by VividOranje
Cover Image by Milk&Cookies
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, or stored in any information storage system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission of the publisher. For more information regarding permission write to Pen Name Publishing Attn: Permissions Department, P.O. Box 173, Bargersville, IN 46106
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities in story or characters are merely coincidence.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on request.
e-ISBN
978-1-941541-00-5
Printed in the U.S.A.
May, 2014
Dedication
This book is for all the women who identify with Ashleigh, Emily, and Amanda in some way. Always believe that something wonderful is about to happen no matter what. Don’t let yesterday take up too much of today. And realize, sometimes the best lessons in life are learned through pain.
Xoxo
Chapter One:
Ashleigh
Ashleigh Preston sat with her legs crossed, hurriedly typing her notes while waiting at Gate Eight in London’s Heathrow airport. She had just spent the last five days visiting the newly restored Great Northern Hotel, sipping couture cocktails at the GNH Bar and enjoying the luxurious comforts of the Cubitt room. Ashleigh was in the city to review the hotel’s sleek and sophisticated redesign, which combined timeless elegance with modern touches. High ceilings hosted glamorous circular hanging chandeliers. Lustrous etched glass mirrors lined the walls, while sweeping staircases and expansive wide curved corridors seemed to go on for miles. Grand floor to ceiling and sash windows allowed light to flood nearly every space of the building. These features are most likely what she will highlight in the final draft of her review for the travel and lifestyle blog, The Business Travelers’ Wife.
Looking at her phone the time read 8:45 P.M., reminding her of what she was doing at that exact moment only twenty-four hours ago. Pulling her dark hair up into a tousled bun, her mind lingered, taking her back to the corner booth at Plum + Spilt Milk where she could see the candles flickering and hear the music playing softly in the background. As she imagined the radiating glow from the gorgeous hand-blown pendant lights, Ashleigh felt her skin getting warmer. For a moment, she could smell seared olive oil on wood with a hint of garlic and felt her mouth begin to tighten, remembering the taste of the Yorkshire pudding and lemon posset with fresh raspberries.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” someone asked in a low voice.
Ashleigh snapped out of her daydream and saw a petite woman holding a large leather handbag dressed head to toe in black. With her brown eyes narrowed, the woman pointed at the seat next to Ashleigh.
“No it’s not taken, you can sit there,” she replied moving her own handbag next to her suitcase.
Ashleigh couldn’t help but smile glancing at the shiny Union Jack flag keychain dangling from her Michael Kors handbag. Retrieving her iPhone from the side pocket of her carryon she clicked on the Foursquare app checking in to Heathrow Airport.
The keychain was a gift from Liam, just one of many tokens she could add to her collection. Liam Oliver Frost—her handsome Englishman, although he’s not officially “hers,” technically Liam’s not even English. Liam is actually Welsh, and yes there’s a difference just ask anyone in the UK. They’re just friends and sometimes more, but never a couple. Ashleigh was in love once, deeply in love. When it was over, she was completely gutted. She made a promise to herself that she would never allow that kind of pain in her life again. Serious relationships are not in Ashleigh’s repertoire. But it doesn’t hurt to have a good-looking friend with benefits. For the past few years, Liam has been that friend.
Terminal four was busy and the empty seats at all the gates were quickly filling up. Tired families were dragging heavy shopping bags from last minute stops at Harrods and Burberry, while kids pulled their small rolling suitcases behind them in one hand, clutching bags from Caffé Nero and Simply Chocolates in the other. College students with headphones around their necks hurriedly made their way to power stations to recharge their electronics as overstuffed backpacks slid down their shoulders, most likely filled with all of their belongings and souvenirs.
Stretching her legs out and crossing her ankles, Ashleigh hoped her flight was not full. She definitely needed to relax after her exhausting few days in London, days that were full of both work and play.
The metal of the keychain felt warm as she rubbed it between her thumb and index finger. She gently grazed her thumb over the top of the glossy Union Jack design. Hearing a familiar vibrating sound coming from her purse, Ashleigh retrieved her phone and saw it was a tweet notification from @EMMYGREENE15.
@ASHMPRESTON15 SAW YOU CHECKED IN AT HEATHROW. SAFE TRAVELS HOME.
She laughed to herself, knowing her friend, the social media maven, never missed a beat.
@EMMYGREENE15 SO TIRED. I HAD SUCH A GREAT TIME, BOARDING IN FORTY MINUTES.
@ASHMPRESTON15 GOOD! DRINKS WHEN YOU GET BACK?
@EMMYGREENE15 ABSOLUTELY! I WILL TEXT YOU WHEN I GET HOME AND WE CAN MAKE PLANS.
@ASHMPRESTON15 PERFECT!
Ashleigh decided to check Facebook while she still had the chance before boarding the flight home. Scanning the news feed she saw: Amanda Parsons had checked into the boutique, My Sister’s Closet. Ashleigh rolled her eyes, but hit “Like” begrudgingly. Emily Greene’s status said: CANNOT WAIT FOR THE WEEKEND. She already had half a dozen comments and twelve “Likes.” Make that thirteen now.
Liam Frost’s last posting was a check-in at Starbucks earlier that morning with a comment that said: NEED TO RE-CHARGE THE BATTERIES. Ashleigh giggled to herself, knowing she was partly responsible for his much needed caffeine fix. With that Ashleigh went to Liam’s status and hit “Like.” She commented with only a smiley icon then closed the Facebook app on her phone.
While Ashleigh was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed back in Grand Rapids, she was always sad to leave London. Her love affair with the city began at an early age. Her father frequently travelled to Europe on business, and she, her brother and mother would accompany him. When Ashleigh was in high school she dreamed of living in London one day. She pictured herself shopping at Selfridges and enjoying afternoon tea at Claridge’s where she would run into her then style icon, Princess Diana.
A few years ago when Ashleigh left Maison Bleue Magazine to begin freelance work, writing and taking photographs, her first assignment was to review the Corinthia Hotel’s grand re-opening in London. This is when she met Liam.
A smile crossed her lips as she began thinking about him. Liam was quite tall, about six foot three, with a slender fit build, gorgeous thick dark brown hair, and soulful deep brown eyes. He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion editorial in Details magazine. The man could wear a suit like no one else, thank goodness for fine English tailoring.
Liam grew up in a hotel, rather a castle that was renovated by his parents into a hotel. Since the renovations, Frost Castle has become a po
pular spot for tourists vacationing in Wales. Meeting new people and hearing stories of where they had traveled from to visit Wales was a major contributing factor to why Liam eventually became a Travel Writer.
Ashleigh’s thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the loud speaker:
“We will now begin boarding our first class passengers for flight nineteen with non-stop service to Detroit.”
Slowly pushing to her feet, she gathered her items, including her now empty coffee cup, and walked to the nearest trashcan throwing it away. Gazing out the windows of the airport and then back down Terminal four, she noticed a handsome man with dark brown, slightly curly hair standing by Costa Coffee. He was wearing a soft grey sweater and dark denim jeans holding a silver coffee mug with a black trench coat draped over his left forearm. He looked familiar to Ashleigh. Could he have been someone she knew from college? As he walked by, a dreamy expression appeared on Ashleigh’s face. All of a sudden a small boy with blonde hair ran in front of the guy, who in turn accidently knocked over Ashleigh’s carry-on.
In an American accent Ashleigh heard, “Whoa, there young man.”
The little boy smiled and ran towards his parents who were sitting down near Harrods Food Hall. The mother had her nose firmly in a book, while the father was looking around seemingly unaware of his son’s whereabouts at that moment.
“Here you go,” the guy said, propping Ashleigh’s suitcase right side up on its wheels.
Captivated by his steely greyish-blue eyes, Ashleigh found herself lingering a bit too long with her words. Finally, after several seconds, which felt more like minutes, she coolly replied, “Thank you very much for the help.”
The man smiled and nodded to Ashleigh, her gaze followed him as he was swallowed up into the mass frenzy of people.
Familiar indeed, she thought to herself. But, how did she know him?
The loudspeaker came on again.
“We will now begin boarding our Business Class passengers for flight nineteen with non-stop service to Detroit.”
Ashleigh made her way towards the gate agent and handed him her boarding pass.
Chapter Two:
Emily
Emily Greene grabbed her iPhone, favorite ink pen along with her organizer case, and quickly walked to the executive conference room for her weekly management meeting. Per usual, she was the first one in the room. She was a stickler for two things: punctuality and organization. Looking around the room she noticed that someone had left a bunch of file folders and sales brochures sprawled across the conference table, and the back table was in complete disarray. Pens, loose blank papers and dry erase markers were all haphazardly left lying out instead of placed back in the cabinet.
Doesn’t anyone take pride in being neat?
Finally, her co-workers began to file into the room.
Upon further inspection of the files, Emily’s blood began to boil. These were the first revisions for the retail store infographics Emily thought she’d misplaced two weeks ago. The completed files vanished from the database, and the hard copies were missing from her filing cabinet. Emily had to stay and work overnight to re-do everything in order ready for her presentation the next day.
This had her former colleague Morgan Allen’s passive aggressive stench all over it. Morgan had just been fired and was furious with Emily as a result. Needless to say, security had to escort Morgan off the property—she did not go quietly.
Her boss, Clark Reynolds began by saying, “How’s everyone doing today?”
Susan Baker replied, “Doing very well.”
Ethan Carlson pretended to be interested in something on his phone only giving a polite nod to Clark. Mike Landry shuffled his notes while a few of the other executives grabbed coffee and water.
“Glad to hear. Let’s get started with our retail numbers report. Ethan you have the floor.”
Emily glanced at her phone, and her mind began to drift. The very word “numbers” was a sometimes-emotional trigger for her. It was so silly. Why did such a common word drive her crazy? Oh yeah, because of him.
Trying desperately not to let her mind go there, she shifted in her chair and focused on the report in front of her, but then her boss asked for last weeks “weekly net income statement.” It was too late. Emily’s thoughts had already drifted to him, Craig Walker. She felt her cheeks begin to change color. Gripping her pen tightly she glanced out the window, spying a robin perched on the large pine tree outside.
Emily met Craig during her last year of grad school at University of Chicago—tall, dark and handsome. He was funny, intelligent and incredibly charming. The perfect specimen, Craig Bennett Walker met every desirable cliché on the “What Women Want in a Man” list.
Numbers, stats and stocks were his passion, and for some odd reason, even though at first Emily could only relate to about a quarter of what Craig was talking about regarding the stock market, it was a total turn on for her. Emily had been in The Loop district interviewing for a position at The Bath Shop’s corporate headquarters when she stumbled into an out of the way bar called Mulligan’s. Feeling pretty good that she had most likely landed the job, she wanted to celebrate with a cold beverage.
It was a hot afternoon in Chicago, about eighty-six degrees, and there was a wonderful breeze coming off the lake, which made it slightly tolerable outside. Hiking along Wacker Drive wearing black pants and a black suit jacket was no easy task. Her back was soaked, and her feet felt sweaty and numb from her narrow kitten heels.
The smoky bar was packed wall to wall with suits, mostly men with a few women sprinkled throughout. Suddenly, Emily felt twenty pairs of eyes dart in her direction. She felt like a fool standing there all by herself in the doorway, sweat beading at the back of her neck. That was the moment when Emily first saw Craig, the most handsome guy she’d ever laid eyes on. He reminded her of a cross between a young Paul Newman and JFK Jr., very all American gorgeous.
Aside from the current awkward feeling, Emily felt especially pretty that day. Underneath her blazer was a cream colored sleeveless blouse that showed off her glowing, warmly tanned skin. Emily had been on the lake the weekend before giving her just enough color to say, “I’m ready for summer.”
Shrugging off her jacket, Craig caught her stare. She smiled at him, and he motioned to the bartender. Craig scooped up two beers and headed in her direction, never taking his eyes off of her as he weaved in and out of the crowd, gliding closer to where she was standing. Craig had the best smile, and it was only amplified by his frosty blue eyes and warm complexion.
Emily’s heart skipped a beat, and she jumped in her chair. Her colleague Susan had clumsily dropped her accounting binder on the floor, and Emily realized she was back in the boardroom not at Mulligan’s bar.
“Sorry everyone, I am so very sorry,” Susan stammered.
“It’s okay Susan. It happens to us all,” Clark replied trying to make her feel less embarrassed.
Emily bowed her head and rolled her eyes so no one could see her reaction to Susan, the bumbling idiot.
“Emily, how are things in the Marketing Department this week?” Clark inquired.
“Things in Marketing are going well. We’re finalizing the logo graphics for the new line, The Huntington Collection,” she stated firmly. “Those graphics should be ready for my final revisions next week along with the updated retail infographics.”
Lowering his dark rimmed glasses, Clark praised, “Outstanding Emily, keep up the good work.” Closing his iPad, he looked around the table and said, “Good work everyone. Meeting adjourned. Have a nice evening.”
Pushing to her feet, Emily gathered her items and walked down the hallway to her office. She looked at the clock hanging on the wall, which read 4:35 P.M. Before she could depart the office and end her workday, she had some paperwork to f
inish. A text from Amanda Parsons popped up on Emily’s phone: HEY LADY, DO YOU WANT TO GO OUT TONIGHT AND HAVE A FEW MARTINIS?
Emily did not want to go out with Amanda because she knew that Amanda would hold her hostage until at least two in the morning and make her pay for all the drinks. Knowing she had to be in the office promptly at eight the next morning, Emily had a good reason not accept Amanda’s invite. Emily ignored the text for about twenty minutes then replied: NO, I AM SO SORRY I HAVE PLANS TONIGHT. THANK YOU FOR THE INVITE.
As she started filing paperwork into the folder labeled The Huntington Collection her phone buzzed again. It was another text message from Amanda, pleading with her to come out for drinks. Emily read the text and sighed. Why can’t Amanda just take no for an answer?
Locking her computer she double-checked her day planner viewing her Friday schedule, gathered her things and walked towards the door of her office. Her phone lit up again, and she rolled her eyes thinking what more could Amanda have to say? It was not Amanda. It was a message from, her trainer Andy, whom Emily referred to as “Annoying Andy.” He wanted to know if she was going to workout at the gym tonight. She ignored the text and proceeded to the door. Emily knew in her current state of mind her workout would be a waste of time.
“A moment, Emily,” she heard a man’s deep voice say.
Emily looked up and saw Ethan Carlson, the Director of Retail Operations standing there coolly darkening her doorway. Ethan was one of the best looking guys at Cooper Bentley. He had gorgeous tousled brown hair, thick dark eyebrows that were perfectly manicured framing his deep brown eyes. Usually Emily prefers men to have a clean-shaven face, but Ethan had just enough scruff that was appealing. Like his eyebrows, this too was perfectly manicured, not an untamed wild mess. Standing about six foot two, with a swimmer’s build, rumor had it Ethan swam every morning, six days a week. Apparently it was part of his strict workout and diet regimen. If that was true, it showed.
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