* * *
Grace Meadows. The name had people falling all over themselves to impress her. Over the years, Grace had let it go to her head. Some would argue that it still fed her ego, Grace thought to herself as she stood at her bedroom window overlooking the front of the house. She preferred watching those who entered her home to just staring out at a garden of flowers. It was the way she marked time and perhaps, she considered, her influence, measured by the number of callers she received.
Visitors would be overjoyed to be invited to her home. State officials seeking donations, celebrities wanting magazine features, people from every corner of the world—all attended her charity galas. They all came to sit and smile and indulge her with their attention.
In these twilight years, the pilgrimage had diminished somewhat, Grace mused. Except that, recently, she had noticed there was a flicker of renewed interest because she’d announced her resignation from Meadows Media. Once again, the hall and great room of her home would be filled with people for her birthday.
Grace allowed the curtain to fall in place. Her heart swelled with sadness, which was seemingly never far away these days. Building up successes in her professional life left another part of her life unattended and feeling chaotic. Now it was time to put that in order. She took a seat and waited for Leona to update her.
“Mrs. Meadows, you’d inquired about Dana. She hasn’t returned home yet this evening.”
“But she’s in the city.” Grace had sent Leona to Dana’s house to summon her—as usual.
“Yes. She’s been to work today.”
Grace had to admit that she was quite pleased with how things were falling into place. A week ago, the meeting in New York City had gone well. Dana had hit a stride that seemed comfortable for her. Grace could only hope so, because she barely saw her busy granddaughter.
Over the last few days, she’d finally reviewed the survey results. It wasn’t a detailed report, but Grace expected to get that when Kent returned from England. While she wasn’t aware of any problems between Kent and her granddaugther, outside of Dana’s initial hesitancy to accept him, Grace couldn’t get Dana to discuss her progress with Kent. Well, when he returned, they’d both have to meet with her.
Leona continued with her daily run-through. “We’re all set for the dinner party tonight. Both Dana and Kent have RSVP’d that they will be here.”
“Good.” If the only way she could get her answers was by commanding attendance, then that was fine. It didn’t mean that they wouldn’t feel her displeasure. “Any additional RSVPs?”
“No. But you did get a request from an IPO group.”
“To come to my private party?”
“Yes.”
Grace knew that people were sniffing like dogs in heat for a chance to cash in on her company. They didn’t scare her; they just mainly were nuisances. But this dinner was to be an official coming-out party for Dana. A few stragglers, who might have their reservations about her youngest grandchild running Meadows Media, still needed to be encouraged to come. Understandable. But unacceptable.
“Where’s Henry?” Grace turned her attention to more personal matters.
“He’s waiting for you. Downstairs.”
“The story of my life...and his. Time to head to the doctor.”
“The car is out front.”
“He’s not going to like not being able to drive.” Grace gave herself a once-over in the mirror. “Mind you, his driving makes my heart weak—and I don’t mean in a romantic sense.”
Leona hid her laugh by burying her chin in her chest. She quickly exited.
Grace waited until she was sure that Leona wasn’t returning. Slowly, she let out a deep breath and allowed herself to show what she didn’t want anyone to see—the pain etched on her face from her arthritis, a daily annoyance caused by swollen joints.
The memory blanks were a different problem, one that scared her more than she’d ever let on. She pushed up from the chair. Her hand gripped the armrest until she was steady. Only then did she move to head downstairs.
Grace pasted on a bright smile and determinedly shook off her body’s gradual failings. Right now, she was off for Henry’s follow-up appointment after cataract surgery. She suspected that all would be well. Then they’d be back for a dinner reception that would be grand enough to be written up in the local paper. Hopefully Kent had worked his magic. Dana would be ready for the crown, and she could rest easy about Meadows Media.
* * *
The Meadows Media file lay open on Kent’s desk. He had written his detailed report of Dana’s progress thus far, along with a few recommendations. That took care of the work stuff. What he hadn’t taken care of was matters of the heart. And he wasn’t in denial that a certain woman stirred more than his interest. He was simply unsure as to how to handle his emotions.
The paperwork in front of him only shed a partial light on who she really was. In order to get to know her, he had to put aside the facts about her educational background, her places of employment, and her press clippings that made her sound like Mother Teresa. Walking into unknown territory without a backup plan, as he had done, took him out of his comfort zone.
What he wanted to know was the little things. Did she sleep in just a T-shirt or a full pajama set? Did she prefer perfume or her natural scent? Would she choose a lobster dinner or filet mignon? Regardless of the answers, for there were no right or wrong ones, he wanted to run his fingers through her hair and pull her mouth to meet his. Every day he wanted to taste her. His memory of their time together was no longer enough.
He had felt terribly guilty about being M.I.A. from Dana since he’d been in England—and for purposely extending his stay longer than expected—but he had needed time to collect his thoughts. Over the last two weeks, he had pondered and agonized about the possibility that, if he began a relationship with good intentions, he might devolve into his father. Would he destroy Dana’s expectations and cause her pain? He didn’t want that. He had never felt so strongly for any woman before.
“Knock. Knock.”
“What are you doing here?” Kent rounded his desk and embraced Conrad, who had indeed lost his job. The immediate aftermath had not been pretty, with his binge drinking and general depression. Since he had been in America, Kent hadn’t been there to support and drag him back to the land of living. Guilt weighed on his conscience, but he was happy that Conrad knew he was back and had reached out. “Came to drag you out.” Conrad’s expression was mischievous.
“I’m busy.” Kent held up the files.
“You’ve avoided me since you got back. I’m tired of talking to your secretary and your voicemail.” Conrad closed the files and kept his hand on them. “Plus, I have a job now. Time to hit the pub.”
Kent had missed his friend. And since he had to return to America soon, he had better act on the invitation before several more weeks passed without contact. Plus a good cold beer would hit the spot. Kent surrendered and left the office with his friend.
“You know that you are a bad influence.” Kent followed the after-work crowd heading to their favorite drinking spots.
“I remember doing some crazy things that you cooked up.”
“And did we get caught?”
Conrad laughed. “Every bloody time.”
Kent punched his arm. “We were part of the Essex Estate crew. A lot of good that did us.”
“Got sent to St. Francis School for Boys.” Conrad stopped to admire a young woman strutting past. “And they almost kicked us out.”
“Please stop. Your trip down memory lane is depressing.”
Conrad held open the pub door. “The point is: Look how far we’ve come.”
Kent looked at him and shook his head. “Yeah, this is a mighty big step.”
The pub was one of only three they frequented. They
knew the staff and some of the usual suspects who came after work.
“We’ve got a table.”
Kent followed Conrad, wondering how he’d managed to get a table at the peak of the day.
“Surprise!” Conrad stepped aside to reveal Agatha, waiting with a glass of white wine in front of her.
“What?” Kent closed his eyes and opened them to refresh his vision. “Why?”
“You sit next to your honey and I’ll sit across from you.” Conrad signaled to the waitress for two more drinks. “I’ll wet my whistle and then leave you lovebirds alone.”
Kent didn’t budge from where he stood. His friend’s pride in what he’d accomplished had muddled the uncomfortable situation further.
“Hi, Kent.” Agatha looked different, yet she hadn’t markedly changed her physical appearance. Maybe her hair was shorter. Whatever the change, he didn’t want to ponder it.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” Kent said slowly. In his mind, they had broken up and at least he had moved on.
“Noted.” She offered a smile. “But I’m here now. Conrad was sweet enough to make it happen.”
“I want to see you happy.” His friend looked up at him. “You’ve been down in the dumps. Not talking to me. I know you all had...well, taken some time off. But we’re back—the happy trio.” Conrad took the beers and slid one over to Kent. “Come on, sit. We’ll be here for a while.”
Kent reluctantly complied. He was going to kill Conrad when they were alone. Right now, he had no desire to keep up a charade that he was interested in rekindling feelings that were never there.
“It really is good to see you.” Agatha reached for his hand. He pulled it off the table, along with his feelings.
“Agatha and I held down the fort until your return.” Conrad grinned at him. “I, for one, missed eating well.” Kent usually picked up the tab, which he didn’t mind doing.
“I’d rather not to do this in public.” Kent pushed himself up from the seat.
“Please, let’s talk.” Agatha grabbed his wrist.
Kent looked at Conrad, his look partly pleading and partly urging his friend to fix this train wreck.
“Sweetheart, I think that I made a big mistake.” Conrad attempted to break the tension. “I got over-enthusiastic with doing good deeds.”
“You didn’t change your mind about us?” Agatha ignored Conrad.
“No.” Kent looked down at the table with its carvings that dated back to the nineties. Hearts and initials decorated the warped wood. A good number of couples had come here to celebrate their unions. He suspected that many lovers had also commiserated over a Guinness or two.
“Well, looks like you got it wrong, Conrad.” Agatha gathered her purse. “I appreciate the gesture, though. Kent, you’re looking smashing.” Her voice hung heavy with sadness.
“I’m sorry, Agatha.” Kent truly was unhappy that he had to reiterate the breakup. Now Agatha had to deal with it a second time, once again in front of Conrad.
Conrad stepped up to be the knight in shining armor and walked her to the pub door. Kent watched him close the conversation with a hug before returning to the table. His friend signaled for another two beers.
“No, thanks. I still have mine.” Kent pointed to his drink.
“I will need both. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.” Conrad was beside himself. “I feel like a—”
“Look, I appreciate what you tried to do. It was just with the wrong woman.”
“Wrong woman? So there is another woman. You sneaky devil.”
“Be quiet. I was not two-timing anyone. That’s more your style.”
“Low blow, but true.” Conrad motioned with his hand. “Go on. Tell me who has your attention locked up.”
“Doesn’t matter. I haven’t called her like I said I would. She’s not the type to sit waiting in the window. My second-guessing has been my Achilles heel.”
“Okay, I’m switching hats from the love doctor for rekindling romance to love doctor for the scared and petrified.”
Kent had to laugh at Conrad’s silliness. Years ago, they’d made vows to be ladies’ men. So far, he was not quite the Casanova. But for the next hour, he spilled his guts about the woman who didn’t know that she had control of his heartstrings.
Chapter 9
After an hour, when Kent had wound down his retelling, he felt emotionally drained—and he was missing Dana.
“So you really didn’t call her?” Conrad appeared to relish his counseling role. He’d barely interrupted Kent, only whistling when Kent said something that blew his mind.
Kent shook his head.
“You’ve got to call her before you head back to the U.S.”
“I will.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow morning. Why are you dragging your feet?”
“I shouldn’t have mixed business and pleasure.”
“It’s not like she couldn’t have said no. I think, at twenty-eight years old, she knows what she wants.”
“Doesn’t matter. I should have showed restraint. At least I should have waited until I was done with the project.”
Conrad shrugged. “Why didn’t you?”
“I thought that if I did wait, well, maybe, she would have changed her mind.” Thinking on his feet came naturally. But having Dana on his mind left him a bit befuddled.
“You can’t be an Essex boy, run with the wolves, and now try to act like one of these stuck-up sods. What you’re feeling is sheer instinct. Deep in the gut action and reaction.” Conrad sat back. “Didn’t think that I’d see the day when you lost a lot of your bark. Not a bad look—the kinder, gentler teddy bear.”
Kent could do without that nickname from his childhood. His woolly, overgrown afro, pudgy body, combined with a ferocious personality, had made him unforgettable. Once he had turned the corner in his life, he’d been determined to never go back. His mother had spent too many nights wondering where he was and if he’d come back home in the same condition as when he’d left.
Conrad slapped his shoulder. “I’m asking about Agatha. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”
“What about her?” Kent didn’t want to talk about Agatha. She needed to remain in the background where he pushed most of his past. Conrad didn’t say anything, just wore a sheepish grin. Realization hit him. “Oh, my gosh...you?” His laughter echoed in the small pub.
“Okay, it’s not that funny. I have always thought she was attractive. Then, when you broke up, well, you weren’t here. She confided in me.” His friend paused, still miffed over Kent’s amusement. “I listened.”
“Oh, brother. Don’t try to pretend with me that you’re the sensitive soul. ‘The Red Fox’ was your moniker.”
Although his friend’s hair had darkened, the youthful version of Conrad had had fiery red hair that spoke to his Irish-Scottish background. Freckles covered most of his face, especially his nose, which somehow attracted droves of women. But it was his wicked grin that slew lots and should’ve warned them that he was up to no good.
“I didn’t push her to talk about you and her. I didn’t want to play magistrate. No, we talked about her—dreams, wishes, her plans.” Conrad held up his hands, all signs of hilarity or irritation gone. He stared at Kent, eye-to-eye. “Nothing happened between us because I always thought you’d get back with her, regardless of my feelings.”
“And you were willing to let us get back together, even orchestrate it?” A part of him felt as if he should be concerned that his friend had feelings for his ex-girlfriend. Should, but didn’t.
“I expected that you would get back together. I mean, why not? She’s got beauty, style, and independence.” Conrad cupped his half glass of beer. “I may have had to give you some distance, though.”
“Does Agatha know how you
feel?”
“Heavens, no. Unlike me, she didn’t have optimistic harkening that this was going to be a joyful rekindling. She’s talking about moving north. I want to make my move to change her mind.”
“Look, Agatha and I started on the same line of this race. Then she wanted to switch to the fast lane, something that I wasn’t ever planning on. So I do wish her well. And I appreciate you being honest.” Kent held up his glass. “I’m not going down that road, ever again. I’m an all-or-nothing person. If I can’t give it my all, then that answers the dilemma.”
“Cheers, my friend.” Conrad clicked his glass to Kent’s.
“Cheers.”
“On an honest note...Kent, you need to get your house in order. Don’t let fear rule. It’s not your style.”
Kent left Conrad, who he could tell wanted to get on with the new turn of events in his favor. He halfway wished that he’d be around to see them hook up. However, he’d procrastinated long enough with his own life.
Time to head to the United States. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late to set things in motion.
* * *
Three weeks had felt like two years. Kent had to admit that he was glad to be back in the U.S. Instead of stepping into the hustle of New York City, he’d headed to upstate New York. The gold-embossed invitation from Grace was equal to a subpoena for a court appearance. Actually, he preferred that setting for the reception that would allow him to see Dana. The confines of her grandmother’s private party should prevent any outward signs of her anger. He quite expected to be assaulted by her hurt over his absence.
Although there was no gated community in the area, as he’d heard about for the well-off and rich, there was a definite difference when he crossed the invisible line to where large estate homes lined the city streets. These houses from the 1930s, which were built for the creators of iconic companies and their loyal executives, became a part of the city’s historic landscape. While he had left a rainy London, here, the sun was still high and bright, as if it was fooling him into thinking he would receive a cheery welcome.
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