Mending Walls With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 3)

by Lorin Grace

  Her phone pinged, the incoming email marked urgent.

  Spring-Break Service Group:

  Friday night Mrs. Evans’s car was struck by a truck. Doctors say she will recover. However, she will not be leading the service trip. I have decided to stay at home with her. Our son Kyle, who has been to Haiti over thirty times, will serve as the guide for the trip. If you have any questions, please message me.

  F. Evans

  PS. Please keep Deah in your prayers.

  Kyle. Haiti. The ten-year-old self hiding in her brain screamed. She never wanted to be face-to-face with him again. She wasn’t going to give him any control over her life again. He would not ruin this for her.

  The chat app pinged.

  Tanner: Mrs. E, you are in our prayers.

  Jade: I can help Kyle if he needs it. Get well soon.

  Madison: Hugs and prayers.

  Chelsea: Oh, so sad :( Prayers

  Boyd: Mrs. E, get well soon.

  Araceli reread the post before commenting with her well-wishes. Other than the video conference, she hadn’t seen Kyle in nearly fourteen years, but the image of him and her brothers teasing her filled her mind. He probably wouldn’t even remember. Men never did. She would pretend she didn’t remember.

  She shut her laptop and went in to watch TV. Anything to drown out the chanting in her head. She wasn’t ten and had long grown out of the awkward preteen phase.

  Nevertheless, “Celi-Belly shakes like jelly” managed to drown out the opening music to the rerun she brought up.

  Too bad she didn’t have a time machine. She would go back and spend all of fourth grade eating vegetables. Maybe he would have a crush on her this time and she could ignore him. She rolled her eyes at herself. She had as much chance of that as the canned laughter coming from the TV sounding real. After all, she’d dumped a full bowl of lime Jell-O over his head in retaliation. Kyle, Kyle, looks like bile. But he hadn’t reacted then any more than he had on last week’s conference call. No wonder Jade was chasing after him. He’d changed in appearance, cute morphing into handsome. Maybe he’d changed inside, too.

  Kyle checked his watch as the applause faded and the keynote speaker left the stage. Just enough time to make it to the airport. He’d hoped to have a few minutes to catch up with a colleague he hadn’t realized was here until the closing session, but missing the plane wasn’t an option. The red-eye would get him back to DFW too late to drive to his condo to change clothes and swap suitcases for the morning flight to Haiti.

  Kyle waved at his friend and was headed for his rental car when his phone rang. His mother’s smiling face appeared on the screen.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?”

  “Only two pain killers so far today. I wanted you to know Cassie isn’t going. She managed to find a flu strain not covered by this year’s vaccine.”

  “Marci?”

  “We all got tested. No one else has it. Are you going to spend the night here?”

  “No, I was going back to my condo. Do you need me to get Marci and EmilyAnne?”

  “I’ll have the car service drop them off at the terminal. I wanted to see you before you left.”

  “My flight gets into DFW at ten. Will you be up if I drop by then?”

  “As long as I can find a movie to watch.” Her voice sounded tired.

  “See you in a few hours. Love ya, Mom.”

  Kyle started his car and pulled out of the lot, mentally reassigning the things Cassie was going to do in Haiti. Anything medical related would have to wait for another trip. Marci was going to update photos of all the children, and any of the volunteers could help with growth photos as well as inventories.

  By the time he got to the airport, the left side of his head was starting to throb.

  He prayed the person in seat 3B wasn’t a talker.

  six

  The last tornado had caused less damage than this. Araceli looked around at the disaster that was her room. Debris lay everywhere. Every drawer open and empty. Every box pulled out from under the bed. Her clothing was strewn across every surface, and her furniture had been moved, exposing a multitude of three-year-old dust bunnies. Her beloved teddy-bear collection had been uprooted from its place and was now lying in a heap near the closet door. The disaster had taken most of the night to create, and now Araceli sat on her bed, forcing back the tears. She needed to leave for the Fort Wayne airport in a half hour. She’d packed everything—her airline ticket, her money, her repellent.

  Everything but her passport.

  “Araceli, are you ready?” Tessa paused in the doorway.

  “I can’t find my passport. I know I put it somewhere safe, but I can’t remember where safe was. I can’t think of anyplace else to look. I keep trying to be more organized, but—” She waved her arm at the room.

  Tessa stepped over a pile of clothing by the door. “I’ve seen worse. Sean’s grandfather’s house is a hoarder’s paradise. When did you last see your passport?”

  “The day I ordered my plane tickets.”

  “So, you were here at your desk, and where was your passport then?”

  “In my second drawer. That was the first place I looked.” Araceli leaned over and flipped through a pile of stuff before returning it to the empty drawer.

  Tessa poked around the room. A few things still hid in the shadows of the walk-in closet. She turned on the light, revealing a formal dress, two coats, a box marked “Shoes,” and a large suitcase. She checked the shoebox first. “I am not asking why you have a box of mismatched gloves.” Tessa pulled out the suitcase. “Any chance it could be in here?”

  “My old suitcase?” Araceli joined Tessa in the closet and unzipped the bag, pulling out her old fanny pack. “Tessa, you are brilliant!” She hugged the passport to her chest.

  Tessa pointed to the clock. “Made it with ten minutes to spare!”

  Araceli picked up a pile of clothes and moved it to her bed. “Candace is going to take away my deposit when she sees this.”

  “Shut the door and hope you beat her back. She left with Zoe for the week to that living-history-retreat thing Zoe’s mom set up. Since Candace is not into family history and annoyed over the DAR thing, she might not notice your room for a day or two.”

  “Dar?”

  “Daughters of the American Revolution. She thinks this trip will be a disaster, like last summer’s Society of Indiana Pioneers pilgrimage.”

  “The one with the Ohio River cruise, right? She came back with that saying about genealogists disturbing the dead and annoying the living.”

  “Yup, so she might not notice the room if she gets on one of her rants. I see red-white-and-blue wigs in the future.”

  Araceli kicked a pile of clothes out of the way and shut her door. “Port-au-Prince, here I come.”

  “Come on. If I miss my 6:00 a.m. plane to JFK and even a half day with Sean, you might pray Candace finds your room.”

  The best thing about the predawn flight was that DFW was not busy yet. The worst was that Jade and two other girls had yet to show up. Kyle looked at the eight bags waiting to be checked. Due to airline limitations, it was essential each passenger be responsible for two of the large duffels. Diapers, formula, and various other supplies requested by the orphanage had been packed, along with three sewing machines, several bolts of fabric, thread, an electric drill, and donated paint brushes. The other members of the group had checked their two assigned bags and gone through TSA with Marci fifteen minutes ago.

  Next to him, the automatic doors opened with a whoosh. Kyle breathed a short-lived sigh of relief to see the missing girls. He automatically looked at his watch. Twenty minutes late. Thankfully his mother always built in enough time to compensate.

  “Don’t look at me that way. You know Deah builds in extra tim
e.” Jade brought three bags to a halt in front of him.

  “Jade, what is that bag? You know you are only allowed two carry-on items.” Kyle eyed a third carry-on.

  “Oh, this? Just a few last-minute things I found to take down. You know how much fun those girls had last year with the crafts I brought.”

  Fun? Not how he remembered it. “You can’t take three carry-ons.”

  “I’m not. I was going to stuff this in the checked bags.”

  “Each of these bags has been weighed to the ounce. You can’t put anything in them.”

  Jade pushed out her lower lip. “You would deny the children?”

  Instead of appearing sexy, her pout reminded him of his grandma’s saying: “If you don’t put your lip back where it belongs, a bird will come poop on it.” Kyle kept the thought to himself. “This is your third trip with us. You know the rules. I am giving you two choices. March up to the counter and check these two bags the way they have been packed and figure out how to consolidate your three carry-ons into two before our flight leaves, or call an Uber and go home. You can drop these two bags off at my parents’ home and explain to Mom why you felt you were above the rules. Warning—she is still in quite a bit of pain and refuses to take anything stronger than acetaminophen.”

  Jade looked at each of her friends. “I am sure we can find enough room in everyone’s carry-ons for this stuff. TSA won’t stop me for three bags, will they?”

  “I don’t think they count bags.” Kyle gave the overloaded luggage cart a shove. “Ladies, after you.”

  He managed to bite his tongue until the cabin doors shut and the passenger-safety monologue had commenced. He sat next to Marci and EmilyAnne, the only minors on the trip. “Please, when you go to college, don’t turn into her.”

  Marci looked over her shoulder at the row behind them. “I can’t believe she talked those guys into putting her stuff in their bags. But then, they probably don’t pack the way you do. I don’t think you could even stick a piece of gum in your bag. Please tell me you at least brought two changes of clothes with all the other things you packed for the orphans.”

  “I’ll have you know I brought a full week’s worth of clothing. Why don’t you get some sleep? You were up as long as I was last night.” Kyle had reached his parents’ house only to find Marci three hours into the five-hour version of Pride and Prejudice with Mom.

  His sister yawned. “With the layover in Atlanta, we don’t land until 2:00 p.m. in Haiti. Are we even going to get out to the orphanage and back before dark?”

  “By the time we get out of the airport, we’ll have four hours of daylight. Just enough time to go drop off all the donations, hand out hugs, and check the supplies we ordered.”

  “We could wait until tomorrow.”

  Kyle leaned into the headrest for takeoff. “The children are expecting us. Now sleep.” He closed his eyes.

  The Atlanta airport was bustling with passengers hurrying to catch their flights. How many flights landed late, like hers? Araceli looked at the flight board and map. Twenty minutes until takeoff. What if she missed her flight?

  The seconds ticked by as she waited for the train to Terminal E and her gate. Recorded announcements played overhead, and she looked at her phone. Eleven minutes. A bell sounded, and passengers crowded off the train and she boarded, her anxiety spiking as she looked at her watch again. How far would she need to run to E6?

  The doors flew open, a family exiting before her. Araceli skirted them and ran for the escalator. As she neared the top, she heard the announcement “Will passenger Williams please check in at gate E6?” It took only a second for her to orient herself before she took off at a sprint. Gasping for air, she zigged around an older couple and zagged around a stroller. Why had she not been more diligent about her exercise? A man stood in front of E6, waving and motioning for her to hurry, as if he expected her to reach Supergirl speeds.

  As she passed E8, her right lung threatened to collapse, every breath burning, but she kept running. Closer now, she recognized Kyle Evans, his arms beckoning.

  “Araceli?”

  Her lungs and muscles were screaming. It was entirely possible she’d broken her own four-hundred-meter record. Nodding was the best she could do. Great. She’d wanted to make a good impression. Prove to him she wasn’t an awkward ten-year-old anymore. Instead, she was going to collapse at his feet.

  He didn’t touch her as he escorted her to the door. She probably smelled like she felt. Feeling the perspiration run down her back, she wished she could change her shirt.

  “Boarding pass? Passport?” asked the uniformed attendant.

  Kyle handed his passport and ticket over. Araceli dug in her fanny pack and thrust hers into the employee’s outstretched hand.

  “Our flight is very full. We’ll need to gate check your carry-on. Is there anything you need from it?”

  Still unable to answer, Araceli shook her head. The employee affixed a tag to the handle, and they entered the Jetway, the door shutting behind them.

  Kyle took the rolling bag from her. “Let me.” He hurried ahead of her to where a man in uniform coveralls and orange ear protectors awaited their bags.

  “What seat?”

  “Thirty-two C.” The words came out in a breathless heap.

  “I’m 31D.” Kyle gestured for her to board first.

  Araceli nodded. She counted down the rows, looking for her seat, but none of the aisle seats were empty. A blonde about her age sat in hers, chatting to the man across the aisle. Araceli double-checked her ticket. “Excuse me. I believe this is my seat.”

  The woman glanced up. Jade. She looked more like a model in person than she did on the conference calls. “You could sit there.” She gestured to the middle seat, not making any effort to stand or let Araceli in.

  “Jade, move over.” A disapproving voice sounded over Araceli’s shoulder.

  Jade was not going to steal her seat. Araceli needed to get up as soon as the seat-belt sign went off to be the first in line for the lavatory—a luxury denied her by her delayed flight.

  An attendant came from the back of the plane. “Is there something wrong here?” she asked in heavily accented English.

  In answer, Araceli held up her boarding pass.

  The attendant turned to Jade. “May I see your boarding pass?” The woman studied it for a moment. “You are supposed to be in 34B.” The attendant looked back two rows.

  A man no older than twenty-one raised his hand. “I had 32B and traded her.”

  The attendant looked down at the blonde. “Please move to the center seat so this woman can sit down and we can depart. We’ve already held the plane longer than we should have.”

  For a moment, Araceli thought Jade wouldn’t comply and would have to be dragged off the plane. Visions of viral videos flashed through her head. And somehow they would make it seem like Araceli’s fault.

  But Jade unbuckled her seat belt and moved over.

  “Move your bag, too, miss.” Directed the attendant as she pointed to a bag in front of the aisle seat.

  “But under my seat is already full.”

  “Then hand me one of your bags, and I will gate check it.”

  As Jade pulled the bag in front of 32C out and stuffed it under 32B, she flashed Araceli a look that made her think of the type of retaliation mean girls planned in high school. Conscious of dozens of eyes on her, Araceli took her seat, not even pulling her paperback out of her backpack before stowing it. The in-flight magazine would have to do until the fasten-seat-belt light changed.

  She looked up to see Kyle looking over his shoulder and mouthing “Sorry.”

  Araceli nodded and managed a smile, which he returned before turning forward in his seat. It wasn’t like Jade’s behavior was his fault. Although, if Jade’s chat-room claims were
true, they were an item. Maybe she could pretend he was apologizing for teasing her all those years ago. Because her old crush was pounding on her heart to be let back in.

  Next to her, Jade stirred. “Save yourself the effort. Kyle Evans doesn’t go for the artistic type.”

  This was going to be a very long flight. Araceli imagined what she would like to say as the plane backed out of the gate. Hey, Catty, I am not too sure why you think you can steal my seat, demean my project-idea, and control whether or not I can speak with Kyle. But I am going to Haiti to see if I can make a difference in this world—not to flirt, and not to please you. So if you don’t mind, let’s decide now to ignore each other as much as possible. You help the children your way, and I will do it mine. Instead, she plastered on a smile that would have made Candace proud. “Thanks for the advice. But as with my mural idea, I think I can decide for myself.”

  “If you don’t want my help, fine. I didn’t want you getting hurt. I am still surprised Deah approved your idea to be one of the projects. My project has been put on hold for the family groups. I bet you haven’t ever tried to paint with children. It gets so messy. As far as your seat, you were late, and I saw you checking out Kyle, so I wanted you to know he was taken. Saving you pain later.”

  Interested in Kyle? Oh, please. Taking her own advice and ignoring Jade, Araceli opened the magazine.

  Jade turned to the woman in the window seat and conversed in low tones. As the plane gathered speed and lifted off the runway, Araceli’s heart beat a little faster. Next stop—Port-au-Prince!

  Either getaways to the Alaskan frontier were Araceli’s thing or she was excellent at ignoring annoying people. Kyle studied Araceli’s reflection in his phone screen for a few more seconds. She barely resembled the old vacation photo he found. Her hair was longer and darker but still curly. At least she hadn’t straightened it. Haiti’s humidity would curl the spirals tighter. He wondered how springy they were. When he’d seen Araceli sprinting for the gate, he couldn’t reconcile her with the chubby ten-year-old he’d met almost a decade and a half ago. From the way she ran, he assumed track was her sport of choice, and for an artist, she was sensibly dressed.