A Fragmented Journey (The New York Journey Book 1)

by Gracie Guy

  Kara gathered up her courage, along with her gear, and got out of her truck. With her gaze fixed on the front door, she strode into Avion Technology with an outward confidence she didn’t feel internally. She let out her breath in relief at the empty receptionist area, not realizing she was holding it in. Great. Maybe I can get to my desk without seeing anyone. But just as she stepped into her office, she heard a familiar voice.

  “Hello, kiddo.” She felt Dave Spannell’s hand rest on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready to be here?”

  Kara put her bags on the conference table dominating her office and turned to her boss. “Um, yeah Dave, I am.” She forced herself not to show any emotion by keeping her focus on the bridge of his nose, instead of his eyes. “Listen. I really appreciate you coming up north last week. And, for giving me the time off.” Still unable to look at his eyes, she continued on. “Oh, and the rental car. Thanks for bringing it back and covering the cost.”

  She held up her hand as he started to protest. “But through all this I learned some painful lessons, like how to bury your husband when you should be having babies with him.” She relaxed her hand. “It’s time to fold up the proverbial tents and move on.” Kara picked up her belongings and walked behind her desk. “I’m kinda starting from square one. I’ll have to make some decisions about living up north.” She emptied her laptop case while she talked—still safely avoiding any direct eye contact with him. “So yeah, I’m ready to be here. Work is good.”

  “Okay, then. Be in my office at ten o’clock to discuss the next conference. It’s in Manhattan.” He quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Kara in privacy as she wiped appreciative tears from her eyes.

  She looked around her office for a minute. Pictures of home were everywhere—some on the walls, others on the desk and side table. Dan, Dan with the dogs, Dan with the horses, Dan in a canoe, Dan carrying a rifle, Dan on skis. Everything except Dan and her together. She collected them with an ache in her heart, accepting she had been duped and their marriage was a sham. A convenient, hollow space allowing him to enjoy a clean, warm home while pursuing any sordid fantasy he could think of. For years she set aside her own plans, time with friends, and even time for exercising because she wanted everything to be perfect—for him. Kara heard glass crack when she dumped the pictures in the corner of the rarely used closet in her office, compounding the damage done to her splintered heart.

  She spent the next hour prepping her expense reports and cataloging the new business contacts she’d made in Atlanta. When she got to the portfolio for Twin Cities Development, the navy lettering on Mark Shelton’s business card teased her again. Right. I was going to call him today. She looked at the clock on her computer. It’s too early to call Kansas City. Maybe later.

  The ten o’clock meeting wrapped after twelve thirty when they headed to lunch. Once they’d gotten past a few awkward condolences, Kara found it soothing to be with her fellow techies again. And, much to her relief, no one appeared to know the details of Dan’s death.

  On her long drive home, she realized her day was so hectic she never called Mark. “Tomorrow. Really, I’ll do it tomorrow.” It felt like more of a commitment this time since she’d said it out loud.

  As weeks are wont to do, tomorrow kept getting pushed out to the next day. Friday morning, while putting on her makeup, it dawned on Kara the week had played through with surprising speed. To entertain herself during her morning commute, she carried on a mock conversation with Mark. She felt a little silly each time her voice rose an octave to imply her femininity, or plunged to indicate his side of the conversation. But for all the back and forth she imagined, there was no way to know how he would react to her call. And to make it worse, she had to wait until mid-morning to call him due to the difference in time zones.

  Finally, at eleven o’clock, she picked up the business card sitting next to her phone.

  A nervous giggle escaped from her lips when she realized her fingers were shaking as she dialed the number. What are ya, a teenager? She mocked herself internally. He’s just a man. And this is just a business call.

  There was one quick ring. “Good morning. Twin Cities Development. How may I help you?” The female voice bore a slight drawl.

  “Is Mark Shelton available?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelton just left. He will be out of town for the next few weeks. Is there someone else who can be of some help?”

  “Um. No. No thanks.” Kara found herself stuttering as she ended the call. “Uh, thanks anyway. I’ll try back again.”

  She buried her face in her hands, feeling heat flush her cheeks. Really? What were you afraid of? She took a long swallow from her water bottle, looking at the ceiling and making faces to herself. “Idiot!” She put his card in her purse. “Now get some work done!”

  Over the next fourteen days, Kara found herself fully engrossed with work. The Manhattan conference was the largest east of the Rockies. Ground Zero in more ways than one. She intended to seize the opportunity to gain new clients, all of which would be government contracts. After updating and retooling her presentation materials, she sent them for printing on eight-foot high foam-backed posters. Three days before her trip to New York City, she revealed them to Dave at an executive staff meeting.

  “Sweet Jesus those are big!” He smiled broadly. “How much did they cost me?”

  “Um. I don’t know.” Kara half shrugged in surprise. He’d never questioned her marketing logic. “Was I on a budget?”

  “No. Not really. Great work, Kara.” She relaxed a little when she heard his praise. “Now bring back some more clients!”

  The following Monday, the gentle rocking motion of an Amtrak train as it wound south along the Hudson River lulled Kara to sleep. With less than seven hours in bed, her day began very early—the jangling alarm interrupted a night of broken sleep at five in the morning. She scuffed through an empty house making coffee and getting ready for chores. Her friend Robin, had agreed to do the barn work in her absence, but wasn’t comfortable entering the house with the dogs. So, Kara made kennel arrangements in Lake Placid for them. Their mournful brown eyes begged her not to go. The sad and low whine coming from them caused serious bad mother guilt as she walked away from their temporary cage the evening before.

  She’d taken a morning train out of Rensselaer at five minutes after ten, and expected to arrive in Penn Station at twelve forty-five in the afternoon. It gave her plenty of time to catch a taxi to the New York Hilton in mid-town, collect the packages shipped from her office, set up her booth, unpack her business clothes and take a leisurely shower to get ready for the night’s informal gathering. Kara discovered early on that most of the vendors arrived the day before a conference. It gave them time to set up, run to buy any last minute items they’d left at their offices, and then unwind over hors d’oeuvres and cocktails. While some of them just drank, she found it a perfect opportunity to assess the competition.

  Chapter Ten

  Well into the second week of his trip to Lake Texhoma, Mark received a text from the office. It was the first interruption since he’d arrived in southern Oklahoma. The familiar whistle from his phone sounded out of place in the land of red dirt and fishing.

  “Shit!”

  His brother Tucker glanced over at him. “Trouble?”

  “Yeah, sorta.” Mark scanned through the email following the text. “I completely forgot about a conference I’m expected at in New York City next week.”

  “Git a rope!” Tucker started laughing at his own reference to a commercial for salsa made in New Yawk City.

  Mark chuckled. “Yeah, well, the salsa from New Yawk might suck but the money’s good.”

  He put the phone back in his pocket when he felt the familiar tug on his line. The bass and catfish were practically jumping right into the boat each day. Between the two of them, they’d cleaned and frozen enough fish to last through a year’s worth of Shelton family feeds, the pet name Tucker gave to any gathering at his ho
use outside of Durant.

  “Sorry Bud, but I’m gonna have to head home tonight.” Mark hated to leave early. Each year he counted the days until this trip. Two weeks camping on the lake with his brother’s family always recharged his soul. How he managed to mess up the timing with the trip to Manhattan was beyond him. “It’s such a big conference. I’ll sign contracts for over a year’s worth of work.” With a deftness that belied the size of his hands, Mark removed the hook from the massive bass in his left one. “With the money I’m pulling in, we’ll be upgrading to a much bigger camper. One with a fireplace in it.”

  Tucker laughed at his younger brother. “Do whatcha gotta do. We’ll still feed ya some fish and hushpuppies the next time you’re down this way.”

  After one last meal by the water, Mark put the dogs in the back seat of his truck and left the state campground headed for I-35. Five hours and way too much coffee later, he was putting sandy clothes in his washing machine in Lenexa. Lucy and Jekyll settled at his feet while Mark logged into his computer and started prepping for the conference. If he worked all weekend, he’d still be able to get things printed and shipped on Monday. The timing would be tight, but he’d always worked well under pressure.

  #####

  Four days later, Mark was grabbing his carry-on and laptop, deplaning as quickly as possible. His early Tuesday morning flight from Kansas City to New York was booked through Southwest by the office. Now he needed to catch the first taxi he could find out of LaGuardia to mid-town Manhattan in order to reach the Hilton and set up his booth before the conference opened. The last minute arrangements threw off his comfort level.

  Fortunately for Mark, the cabbie he chose lived up to all of the hype about life in a New York minute. Sporting a newsboy cap and a name Mark couldn’t pronounce, the man wove in and out of traffic at a dizzying pace. When the cab came to an abrupt halt at the hotel on West 54th Street, Mark was so pleased to have an hour to spare, he gave the driver a sizeable tip.

  Once inside, his first stop was the concierge desk to locate the packages he’d shipped. With bags slung over his shoulders, around his neck and hanging from his hands, he bolted for the convention floor, in search of his assigned space. Some of the technology he passed was dazzling. He forced himself to focus on the task-at-hand—there’d be time later to browse the booths of the other vendors.

  Great job! Mark mentally high-fived himself for the amazing turn-around time it took for his own booth to go from bald table to formidable display of networking technology. He checked his watch. With twenty minutes to spare, he jogged to the front desk to get his room key. He managed to shower, don khakis and a company polo shirt, and still had time to grab a fresh cup of coffee before his booth needed to open.

  Returning to the convention hall, his eyes fell on one of the high-end booths he steadfastly ignored the first time through. I can’t even believe it! His eyes were riveted to the stunning redhead he met in Atlanta.

  Fuck that hurt!

  “Sorry.” He reached out to the person in front of him. “I got distracted. Did I spill any on you?”

  The slender young man shook his head and pointed to Mark’s hand. “Looks like you caught most of it.”

  Mark checked his hand briefly. When he looked back up, from over the guy’s shoulder, she was staring at him. He watched as a smile of recognition slowly lit up her face. God, she’s beautiful! Ignoring his own booth, Mark made a beeline to the elaborate set up for Avion Technology. How did I miss her before? This booth is in the front row.

  “Hi.” He reached out with his freshly burned right hand. “Kara, right?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, yes it is.” She was practically stuttering. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Your name’s Mark?” He wasn’t sure if she meant it as a question or a statement.

  “Yes. Mark Shelton, Twin Cities Development.” Mark heard a commotion behind him as the convention door opened to the public. “Ah, gotta go man my booth.” He was reluctant to leave her. “Maybe we can visit later?”

  “Sure. That’d be great!”

  Mark thumped his chest with joy as he sprinted to his booth.

  Chapter Eleven

  Throughout the day, potential customers inundated Kara’s booth—information technology systems managers, programmers, business analysts, and even financial staff—from all avenues of state, county and city governments. The throngs of attendees belied the budgetary condition of most public entities in the country. Every now and then, she cursed Dave for scoring such a prominent booth location. The rest of the time, she just smiled—by noon she’d already handled return visits from three separate state agencies. She could practically smell the ink on a few new contracts.

  Fortunately for Kara, the show only ran from nine to four. When the doors closed, a deep sigh of relief escaped her lips as she rolled her head multiple times, releasing the tension in her neck. Then she tidied the booth in preparation for the morning rush. Squatting, she reached under the table skirt to gather her laptop case and purse.

  “Did you lose somethin’?”

  Kara felt herself smile at the sound of his voice. She rocked back on her heels before standing up, praying to any God who might be listening that the edge of her skirt didn’t get trapped under her stilettos. How frigging embarrassing it would be! Placing her hands on the side of the table, she rose slowly, just in case.

  “Hi.” She smiled at Mark. “I was just getting my purse.”

  “Well, I kinda figured. Women are always stashing those things outta the way.”

  “Occupational hazard.” Kara busied herself wrapping up her laptop accessories. “I heard one time about a woman from IBM whose purse was stolen from a booth.” She slung both over her right shoulder. “So now I’m extra careful.”

  As Kara came around the table and started toward the door, Mark fell into step beside her. “So, got any plans for dinner?”

  Wow. He doesn’t waste any time, does he? She looked into the deep azure of his eyes. Etiquette dictated she should tell him no. Danny died less than a month before. Just because he’d been unfaithful didn’t absolve Kara of the responsibility to mourn his death.

  Mark’s smile spread across his face, causing her heart to quicken a step. She wanted to say yes. Trying to behave like a poised thirty-two-year-old instead of a love-struck high school sophomore, Kara nodded, suppressing a giggle.

  “Um, sure.” It dawned on her she’d answered the wrong question. The heat of her embarrassment colored her cheeks and neck. “What I meant to say,”—Kara cast her eyes down—“was no, I don’t have plans.”

  “Great!” Mark’s enthusiasm surprised her a little. “But with you being married and all, how about we go Dutch-treat?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Kara faltered. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She had no intention of breaking the good mood by telling him about Dan’s death. Not now. There were three more days of the conference to go.

  “So why don’t cha meet me down here in about ten or fifteen minutes and we’ll take a taxi to SoHo?”

  “Sure. Yeah, see you then.” She felt like an idiot. Stuttering like a kid who had never been asked out. And it wasn’t a real date anyway, since Mark didn’t know she was single. As the elevator doors closed, she watched his tight, khaki-clad buns cross the lobby to the front desk. The grin on her face felt good.

  Fifteen minutes later, both of them dressed in jeans, her with loafers, him in cowboy boots, Mark put his middle finger and thumb to his lips and let out a classic wolf whistle. His shoulders shook with a chuckle. “I always wanted to do that.”

  Kara started laughing. Try this instead. “TAXI!” She bellowed at the passing traffic as her right arm shot up.

  “O-M-G!” Mark responded with mirth. “You are such a New Yawker!” Wearing a broad smile, he intimately bumped shoulders with Kara for just a second and then stepped away. “Oh, excuse me.”

  Kara felt her emotions peak and crash all within ten seconds. What is wrong with you? He’s just a man! “Hey.” She l
ooked up at Mark. “Since taxis seem to be non-existent, how ’bout we skip So-Ho and go to Rockefeller Center. We can walk from here.”

  “I’m game.” Mark looked in either direction. “But you lead ’cause I’m totally clueless as to where we are.” He pointed to the fading pink of the setting sun and pointed. “All I know is that way’s west.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll go south a few blocks and then east one or two.” She reached into the small leather purse slung around her neck and shoulder. “And I’ve got my phone—we can’t get lost.”

  Kara wanted Mark to get a good impression of New York City, so she headed east on 54th Street. They crossed 6th Avenue, passed the sculpture garden, and turned right on 5th Avenue. She watched as Mark’s handsome face transformed with a childlike grin each time one of the famous names popped up on a storefront: Hilfiger, Hollister, Armani, and Ferragamo. His reverence when they entered St. Patrick’s Cathedral, stopping to light a candle and spending a few private moments in prayer, mesmerized her. I wonder who he’s thinking about. But his face lit up once again when they walked the next block, arriving at the heart of Rockefeller Center.

  They chatted their way across the well known shopping area, speculating about what the famous Christmas tree would look like this year. Once inside 30 Rock, they caught the elevator to the Top of the Rock observation tower. Kara heard Mark’s breath catch as they stepped out for the 360-degree view of the world’s greatest city, New York.

  For the next half an hour, Mark took pictures from atop the city, constantly pulling Kara near him and pointing to buildings in the distance. The twinkling street lights far below played peek-a-boo with them as the sun fell below the edge of New Jersey.

  “Hey girl.” Mark had already developed an affectionate tone with her. “How ’bout some food. This Okie is starving.”

  Kara grinned at him. “Yeah, so’s this New York girl. Let’s go!” She bolted for the elevator, playfully winking at him over her shoulder.