The Gift of Love

by Peggy Bird

  Unfortunately, the meeting occurred right after he learned from Nate Benjamin, who had been contacted by Summer Olsen, about Break Up or Make Up’s plan to expand into Seattle.

  The news unsettled him, which had been something of a surprise. He’d been quite sure the whole Allison affair and how it ended were behind him. And he’d given up his plans for a targeted strike against Summer Olsen and her company, although he still considered her business foolish and lightweight and believed she, herself, was possibly the spawn of Satan.

  In truth, he’d not thought of Allison much at all in the past months, having slowly come to realize what he’d felt when he’d read her stupid letter was less the pain of a lost love than a blow to his ego and disappointment at the failure of what he still considered a well-thought-out plan. He had faced the reality that the fondness he’d felt for Allison hadn’t really been passion. When he was being honest about it, he had to admit she’d probably done him a favor by ending things. They had certainly looked good together, and they’d had a pleasant, if not particularly passion-filled, relationship. But just because she was a smart, attractive woman with the right qualifications for the job of wife didn’t mean she was the love of his life. By leaving him, she’d made him realize he could have been about to marry a woman he liked quite a bit but was far from the perfect mate he’d been portraying her as.

  No doubt the breakup had stung. It still did. A little, anyway. His pride had been battered, after all. But he had determined it was time to move on. It helped that he’d not run into her at any point since he got the letter, which, given they ran in the same small social circles, was something of a surprise.

  He was still convinced the owner of Break Up or Make Up was related to at least one of the minor demons of hell, if not the chief devil himself, and her business had the dumbest name in the world. But her bad taste in business models and names wasn’t his problem.

  However, he’d been taken off guard when he heard Nate, at a partner’s meeting, raving about a self-described (he was sure) “exciting new approach to business and personal relationships.” If Nate had his way, Break Up or Make Up was not only coming to Seattle but would be coming to his office. Assuming his colleague would pull off acquiring them as a client, Taylor would have to hear the dumb name at every partner’s meeting for the duration of whatever contract they signed with her. And he’d have to keep his opinions on the subject to himself for the same length of time.

  The morning after he heard his firm was pitching Break Up or Make Up for work, and still thinking about what it might mean if his boss discovered he’d been the target of one of their infamous letters, he attended the fatal neighborhood association meeting.

  He must not have had enough coffee before he went to the meeting. Or enough sleep the night before. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking. Whatever the reason, when the president of the relevant neighborhood association where the new office was slated to open mentioned how another old house in their neighborhood had been sold to someone who wanted to change the zoning to commercial use, he found himself in a discussion about Summer Olsen’s business.

  It wouldn’t have created a problem if he hadn’t let drop that he’d heard some of their neighbors in Portland had issues with them. It wasn’t a lie. He had, after all, actually talked to several adjacent residents and been told there was a parking problem. Of course, in Northwest Portland, saying there were parking issues was like saying it rained in the winter. But he didn’t add that part.

  However, in his conversation with the neighborhood official, his pointed questions made it sound, he decided afterward, more serious than it really was. He knew the residents of the neighborhood in which Summer had decided to locate her business didn’t like having houses converted to commercial space. And he knew they had a history of objecting to zoning changes and building permits. Several times, the delays they’d caused had convinced a business to look elsewhere for space.

  What he hadn’t counted on was the speed with which the president of the neighborhood association had latched on to his casual comments and run with them. Right down to City Hall where she and her allies became the single biggest roadblock to the expansion of Break Up or Make Up. The company got a rash of bad press, the objections of nearby homeowners delayed the zoning change, and the permitting process ground to a halt.

  If he’d planned it, Taylor couldn’t have screwed up Summer’s plans any better.

  He tried suggesting to his friends in the planning department it was a flap over nothing, but they pointed out the obvious—once the ball of neighborhood objections started officially rolling, there was little anyone could do but wait for it to come to rest at the bottom of the hill. And the spate of bad press made this hill steeper and longer than usual. Nevertheless, Taylor urged the planner in charge of the project to look beyond the views of what he described as only a few neighbors and think about the need to encourage small businesses in the city. He did his best to sound convincing without revealing his role in starting the whole uproar. Because if he did, he was terrified he would lose the partnership he had worked so hard for.

  It didn’t seem fair. A couple offhand comments shouldn’t undo years of hard work. Maybe after he’d made partner, he’d figure out a way to undo what he’d done. It was the only thing he could think of.

  That and a determination to keep his mouth shut at neighborhood association meetings about anything other than the weather.

  • • •

  Every time she drove to Seattle, Bella slowed down a bit to smile—no, grin—as she passed Boeing Field and the skyline of the city appeared in the distance. The view never got old. The Emerald City beckoned to her, as Oz had to Dorothy. All she needed was a dog, a tin man, a lion, and a scarecrow to make the fantasy real. Oh, and I-5 should be yellow brick and have only one lane.

  The day she moved from Portland to her new home, her first glimpse of the skyline was even more exciting to her. There it was. The place where she’d make her new life. A beautiful city with impressively tall buildings and some of the most spectacular water views in the country. It was going to be fantastic.

  But first she had to figure out the traffic and a whole new set of city streets on her way to her new residence. Not easy. Sandra Daniels had driven her to the apartment building when she’d originally seen it, and sadly, she hadn’t paid attention to how to get there. Which left her at the mercy of traffic heavier than she was used to, but still going fast enough to make it hard to follow the Google directions she’d printed off before she left Portland. To make it more confusing, her phone’s GPS was giving her different directions from the ones Google suggested.

  She got off I-5 at the wrong exit, somehow got turned around, and wound up south of downtown at Safeco Field, which she recognized from having been to a baseball game there. She had no idea where her new home was in relation to the stadium. Finally she decided to ask a human being for directions. A kind convenience store owner told her how to get to her apartment.

  Relief was mixed with excitement when she finally found the building. The familiar furniture, which had arrived before she did and was in place thanks to an understanding building manager, was comforting. The half dozen pieces of her father’s art glass collection glowed in the late afternoon light and welcomed her. After moving some of the furniture in her living room around so it was exactly right and unpacking her clothes, she decided to treat herself to dinner at a little neighborhood café up the street. Tomorrow she’d fill the refrigerator and pantry. Then, the following day, she’d be ready to find her way to the incubator building where her cubicle—and her new job—awaited her.

  • • •

  Obviously, Bella was going to have to quickly get used to tangling with Seattle traffic. Luckily she didn’t have a boss or a staff waiting for her on her first day in her new office because she badly underestimated the time it took to get from home to her cubicle.

  Just as she’d found her new apartment eventually, she finally found her new work
home. She spent the morning beginning to plow through a file cabinet of paperwork trying to get a handle on the project and its problems. The radio Summer had thoughtfully added to the bare bones office space helped. Bella discovered a new favorite music station and an amusing advice show to give her some background noise while she got up to speed on what Summer had faced trying to open her branch office.

  It was unfortunate, really, that her boss was having all these difficulties. Bella had seen firsthand the kind of good work BU/MU and their roster of experts did for people. Having access to all the resources in one place was a blessing for people who were in stressful situations. While writing letters for people who felt unable to do it themselves, she had gotten to know so many nice people. There were sad stories, like the two lifelong best friends who were breaking up a home-based business because the spouse of one of the partners had embezzled money from the company to feed his gambling problem. His wife had known and covered for him. BU/MU’s lawyers handled the business side, the psychologists the emotional part. Bella had written the letter to the offending partner from her childhood friend who’d been damaged, getting all her hurt feelings onto paper, freeing her to move on. Hopefully.

  It wasn’t all tragic stories and broken relationships, however. Sometimes she’d been asked to write fun, even funny, letters. There was the man who wanted a letter written to his neighbor’s dog in the voice of his dog. It was a proposal of marriage—well, of mating, actually. It not only turned out to be successful but so funny a community newspaper picked up the story and gave BU/MU some free publicity.

  Another favorite was the one she’d written for a twelve-year-old girl who asked for help with a letter to send to the boy she wanted to be her valentine. He was a ball boy for Portland’s NBA team the Trail Blazers, and the girl saw him at every home game because she and her father had season tickets. The letter made the local news with both BU/MU and the Blazers getting television coverage.

  Her favorite letters to write were the ones sent to make up after a fight, a separation, or counseling. They were always so hopeful. Often the clients came back with stories of success.

  But now, she would be doing something much different and much more difficult. She’d been part of the team helping individuals to heal before. In this assignment, she was flying close to solo, helping to heal a business. She was determined to get a handle on what had derailed the expansion and get it back on track.

  Chapter Six

  “Welcome to Seattle, Bella!” Sandra Daniels set the basket she was carrying on Bella’s desk. “I brought you a few essentials for life in your new hometown.”

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Bella said. She peeked through the cellophane wrapping on her real estate agent’s gift. “But since the first two things I see are a ‘Best Places Seattle’ paperback and a Starbucks gift card, I’m not going to turn it away. I’ve been told this is the best guidebook for a new resident.”

  “It is. And if you can’t find what you want there, call me and ask. I’ve lived here long enough to know how to find pretty much everything.”

  Bella pointed to the two mugs nestled in the basket bearing images of the Space Needle on them. “I just set up my brand new Keurig and would love to initiate it if you’d like a cup of coffee. I’ll even turn off Dr. Sea-Tac so she doesn’t interrupt us.”

  “So you’ve found Seattle’s answer to Dr. Phil. I love her show. But I’ll have to take a rain check on the coffee. I have a showing in about twenty minutes. I just stopped by to get the basket to you before you were no longer a newcomer.” She hugged Bella. “Oh, one more thing before I leave. There’s a Chamber of Commerce meet-and-greet tomorrow night at the Experience Music Project. Why don’t you join me there, and I’ll introduce you to a few people who might be able to give you some advice on how to get your project unstuck.”

  “I’d really appreciate the help. And I’ve always wanted to see what the building looks like inside. What time?”

  “I’ll be there about six thirty. See you then.”

  • • •

  Normally Bella grabbed a skirt and blouse or a pair of pants and a knit top, found a jacket to go with it, and was out the door. Today, however, she couldn’t make up her mind what to wear. She knew she was making a mountain out of something not quite so much a big deal, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from fussing. The Chamber meet-and-greet would be her first social occasion in Seattle, her first introduction to the business community, and she wanted to look right for it.

  Four changes of clothes later, she decided to go with a black suit. The pencil skirt and long, hip-length jacket looked professional. The wide black belt and the soft, draped labels looked appealing. She thought it struck the balance she was looking for between serious professional and attractive woman. With a touch of caring and understanding. In a capable sort of way.

  As if clothing could say all that.

  Fortunately, she had a full day of dealing with city planners, potential consulting staff for the business, and a long conference call with Summer to distract her. She’d be able to forget her nervousness about walking into a room full of strangers and making a good impression. It had never been her favorite thing to do when she was working for her family business, and here the stakes were higher. She was representing Summer and a new business, the success of which would depend on acceptance in and cooperation from the community. And the latter hadn’t been forthcoming so far.

  At exactly six thirty, she walked into the Experience Music Project building, head high, with a purposeful stride. She was going to wow the Chamber of Commerce members no matter how nervous she was.

  The setting helped. The Chamber of Commerce had picked a great place to have the business-after-hours reception. On a trip to Seattle with her father, she’d been intrigued when she’d seen the outside of the building. Designed by Frank Gehry, the architecture had been inspired by the deconstruction of a couple guitars. This event finally gave her a chance to explore the inside, a nice side benefit to her primary goal of networking with some of Seattle’s movers and shakers.

  By the time she arrived, the reception was already crowded. Standing about ten feet inside the entrance, she looked around. She didn’t see Sandra but did locate the wine bar and headed there. When she eventually scored a glass of wine, she slowly walked around the room, looking at first for her acquaintance but caught almost immediately by the displays on the wall. She didn’t pay attention to the people she was standing near until a familiar male voice said, “Bella? What on earth are you doing here?”

  She turned suddenly enough to almost dump her drink on the man asking the question. “Marius. I should have known. I mean, I’m not surprised you’re here.”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t have any reason to assume you would be.” Marius Hernandez seemed more amused than annoyed, which was a relief, considering the last time she’d seen him she’d first hung all over him like kudzu then screamed at him for what she said was rude behavior when he didn’t respond the way she wanted him to.

  When she didn’t immediately reply, he continued, “This would be the place where you tell me why you’re here, since my family hasn’t bothered to tell me you were anywhere near Seattle, let alone representing ...” He peered at the nametag she was wearing. “Break Up or Make Up, whatever that is.”

  “I’m sorry our families haven’t been in better contact. A lot changed after my father died.” She was sure the expression on her face showed she was still sad about her dad’s passing. But this wasn’t the time or place to get into the subject. She continued, “Actually, I’ve recently moved to Seattle. I’m in charge of opening the Seattle branch of a Portland company I’ve been working with the past few years.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d been working in Portland, either. Sounds like we have a lot to catch up on. What does this company you work for do?”

  “We work with clients who are negotiating difficult circumstances with personal or professional relationships. I started o
ut writing for them and have moved up to management. It’s an exciting opportunity.”

  “I’m happy you’ve found something to engage your talents. I know how rough it was for you after your father died.”

  Marius was the master of understatement. The son of one of her father’s best friends, he had borne the brunt of her grab at security when she’d thrown herself at him trying to find someone to save her from dealing with the fallout from her father’s death.

  She had managed to convince herself that Marius was the answer to a prayer. He was handsome. His family and hers had known each other for generations. He’d even been the object of her teenage crush when she’d met him in Miami during a visit with relatives. Somehow, she was sure all she needed to do was flirt with him and he’d fall for her. It had worked with a couple other guys. Why not Marius?

  Not only was it a bad idea to think about marrying someone only for security, but the man she’d picked was in love with a jewelry designer named Cynthia Blaine. Whom he was now married to. Which was almost a miracle considering how she’d spoken to Cynthia as she clung to Marius and demanded his attention.

  “Yes, you do know.” She cleared her throat and glanced at the ceiling before adding, “About that—I don’t think I ever really apologized for my rudeness to Cynthia at the Art Museum that night. Has she ever forgiven me?”

  He laughed. “Right now she’s too busy with her jewelry designs and our daughter to worry about some random occurrence last year. There’s no need to apologize. Or worry about it. Anyone who’s ever lost someone they love would understand.”