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

by Lorin Grace

  Aselòm turned onto a narrow, rutted dirt track resembling more of a gorge than a street. Half-built cinder-block houses dotted the sides. Barefoot children toted jugs of water in wagons or balanced them on their heads. The SUV bounced and dipped. The women held on to the doors and to each other, hoping the vehicle would not tip on its side as it traversed the sharply angled road. Surely there wouldn’t be an orphanage up here.

  A delivery truck exited a gate a hundred yards ahead and came barreling toward them. Araceli wondered how it had gotten up the road, a generous term, in the first place. Their driver pulled the SUV as high up on the banked side of the road as he could to let the truck pass. Her heart racing at the close call, Araceli studied the building beyond the still-open gate. It was some type of warehouse. How could trucks traverse such a road daily?

  They turned a corner and beyond possibility found a dirt road in poorer condition than the one they’d been on. Aselòm angled to cross a drainage pipe that lay half exposed. A cringe-inducing scrape of metal on cement filled the vehicle.

  “Next time, you will need to get out for us to cross here. The last rain did too much damage.”

  Kyle spoke for the first time in a while. “Can we fill in the dip?”

  Aselòm shrugged. “The rain will just wash it out again.”

  The car turned another corner, over a ten or twelve foot cinder-block wall Araceli could see what she assumed was the third floor of the orphanage. The driver honked at the gate.

  Someone on the other side rolled it back, and they drove into a large yard surrounded on all four sides by one of the ever-present wire-topped cinder-block walls.

  The driver honked at a second gate. When it opened, the bottom of the SUV scraped against the metal grate as it dipped into the next yard.

  “That one we will fix,” said Kyle as he rolled down the window and waved back the children who swarmed the vehicle.

  “Mr. Kyle! Mr. Kyle!” the children yelled and waved.

  Kyle turned in his seat. Make sure you lock your doors when you get out and keep your phones hidden. They love to play with them.”

  As soon as the driver stopped the SUV, Kyle hopped out and, like a piece of candy attracting a swarm of ants, was surrounded by dozens of children all speaking at once.

  Araceli climbed out of the car, followed by Madison, who barely got the door shut before children surrounded them.

  Marci came out of the huge three-story concrete building balancing a toddler on each hip. “Come on, I’ll give y’all the quick tour.” She looked in the direction of her brother. “Kyle will be busy until we leave. He will want to say hello to every single child, and most of them will need to tell him a story. The older ones will want to practice their English on you.”

  As they entered the maze of rooms, Araceli doubted she would be able to locate the kitchen or office areas again without help. The nursery would be easy to find, as with nineteen babies someone was bound to cry. Marci encouraged each of the girls to pick up one of the little ones.

  “At this age they need love. There are not enough workers to hold them as much as a mother would. So when I am doing something that isn’t dangerous, I try to give a couple of cuddles.” She paused where a girl sat on what resembled a wide skateboard. “Marlissa, meet my new friends—Araceli, Kate, and Madison.” The little girl waved. “Marlissa just turned ten and has a surprise for me, but she won’t tell me yet.”

  Marlissa covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head. Marci waved to her and continued the tour.

  They skipped the children’s dormitories as they were off-limits to visitors. Any repairs that needed to be done in the area would be completed once the children were at school.

  They passed several girls washing laundry in large tubs or hanging it out to dry. Marci spoke to many of them by name as they crossed the courtyard to the kitchen area. Here, three women and several older girls bustled about, preparing dinner for the nearly one hundred residents not fed in the nursery.

  One of the side rooms contained three sizeable front-loading washers and dryers.

  “Why don’t they use these to do all the laundry?” asked Araceli.

  “The electrical in this room isn’t equipped to handle the current needed. I think there is something they need to do to rewire it for the washers and dryers. The sad thing is, they were donated nearly a year ago.”

  Madison ran her hand over the top of one of the dryers and looked at her palm. No dust. “I think Boyd has done quite a bit of electrical work. We should ask him to check out this room.”

  “That would be nice. You can imagine how much laundry we generate with the sheets and towels.”

  Marci led Madison, Kate, and Araceli through another maze of halls and out the front door, where the other volunteers had gathered in the front yard and were mingling with the children. From the back of the building, a cowbell rang several times. Some of the children snuck in one more hug with Kyle or Marci before running to dinner, but the majority took off at the sound of the bell.

  Kyle pointed to the two vans. “We can all pile in. Dinner is waiting for us at the guesthouse.”

  Araceli followed Marci into one of the vans only to end up in the center back seat. Jade took the window seat in front of her in the middle row.

  Marci rolled her eyes as Jade started a running commentary that ended when the driver honked in front of the gate of the guesthouse nearly an hour later.

  Dinner was a mix of Haitian and American foods. Mrs. Delino had planned the perfect first night’s meal. The guesthouse was one of the hidden treasures of Port-au-Prince. Mrs. Delino had come to Haiti years ago to work at one of the hospitals. In time, she’d fallen in love with Martin and they were married. The biracial couple was on oddity in Haiti. It was perhaps because of this that they ran the best guesthouse in the country.

  Judging by the lack of conversation, either everyone appreciated the food or was tired beyond words. Kyle decided to make a few announcements. “If you did not treat your sleeping clothes with mosquito repellent, I advise you to spray a bit on them before sleeping. Even the mosquito netting lets a few through. The essential oils some of you brought, like lavender, will also repel mosquitoes. Besides, lavender is supposed to help you sleep and is preferable to the smell of DEET. There is a men’s and a women’s dormitory-style room. As we have two minors on this trip, I am going to be strict in that respect. If you want to talk and mingle, use the lower-level family room or terrace.”

  Marci groaned but didn’t comment.

  “Tomorrow, one van will be going to the lumber store to pick up the items we need. The other will go straight to the orphanage. Both will be leaving at 8:00 a.m. sharp. EmilyAnne and Marci, will you go in the van with Boyd, Ryan, and Brandon to get the wood and supplies? A driver will meet you there with a truck to help haul what you need. Also, you can rent the tools they need from the other place, but send the driver to be the interpreter. I don’t want you to go in if it can be avoided, as he will charge you double since you are American. Any questions?”

  Jade raised her hand. “I thought I was getting one of the suites this time. Deah said there would be one available.”

  Kyle shook his head. “No, we only rented the dorm rooms. Mrs. Delino called last week. A couple who is trying to adopt needed to come down last minute. Mom let the suite go. Anyone else?”

  Several people shook their heads. Marci raised her hand. “Since Cassie isn’t here, I thought I would remind everyone to wear their flip-flops in the shower. Even though they clean this guesthouse very well, some of the parasites still may be around.”

  “All of you should be thankful Marci gave a condensed form of Cassie’s lecture. See y’all at breakfast.”

  Kyle stayed near the table, hoping to catch a word with Araceli. Unfortunately, Jade took it as an opportunity to flirt with him, and Aracel
i went up the stairs with the girls she’d spent most of the day with. Was she avoiding him?

  nine

  Saturday morning at the orphanage was like Saturday morning with Max times one hundred. Children ran around chatting in Haitian, French, and English. Several of the fourteen- to sixteen-year-olds spoke English well enough that Marci tasked them with being junior interpreters.

  Araceli used her rusty French to answer the multitude of questions. Fortunately, André, the teen Marci asked to interpret for Araceli, delighted in speaking English and told her and Madison about absolutely everything as he led the small entourage to a second-floor storeroom where the donated supplies for painting were kept. The little room was crammed full of boxes and battered suitcases.

  One shelf held a stack of children’s winter clothing. Araceli wondered if they needed the flannel and fleece wear. She found several cans of paint of various kinds stacked in the corner, but no paintbrushes or tape. “Deah said there were close to twenty rolls of masking tape donated by a painting company.”

  Madison poked around in various boxes. “Look, rugby balls. There must be thirty of them.”

  André crossed his arms. “Someone brought them from America. Don’t they know we play baseball here? Or football, the American soccer. People sometimes give us things we don’t need.”

  A little girl wearing what looked like a floral pillowcase wandered into the room. On closer inspection, Araceli confirmed the simple dress was indeed a modified pillowcase.

  Madison opened the suitcase. “Look at all these crayons. It’s a wonder they don’t melt in here.” She fanned herself with one of the coloring books.

  A box labeled “maskin tep” sat on the top shelf. Araceli was pleased to find that the label was correct—at least phonetically. “Now we can start.”

  “Don’t you need paint, miss?” asked one of the boys who’d followed the pillowcase girl into the room.

  Pulling a piece of chalk from her pocket, Araceli shook her head. “Today we are going to mark off how big the mural is and sketch out the main elements. Will you please tell the children not to rub the chalk drawings off the wall?” She left the storeroom, careful to lock the door.

  André spoke to the girl, who answered him with a huge smile, then scurried out of the room.

  “Marie will tell everyone to leave them alone.”

  The second-floor hallway and gathering area had been selected for the art gallery since the children under three lived in the first-floor nursery and dormitory and would be most likely to play with the clipboards. Araceli figured she needed eighteen inches of wall for every clipboard and frame to have enough space to not feel crowded. Currently, the orphanage housed 104 children. The building could accommodate up to 150, so she needed to plan on creating that many frames. She walked along the walls toe to heel, guesstimating the length of the hallway. Children who had materialized as if from thin air started doing the same thing, counting out loud with her. Marci had warned Araceli that she would gather a Pied Piper’s–worth crowd as word spread among the children of the project.

  More of the children joined in when she switched to French. “Cinquante-deux, cinquante-trois.”

  “Ninety-eleven!” shouted a boy in a blue shirt. The children around him laughed and copied him with other nonsense numbers.

  Jade came around a corner and frowned. Her eyes met Araceli’s, and she shook her head before returning to wherever she’d come from.

  Madison rolled her eyes in Jade’s direction, then joined the cacophony in a perfect German accent. “Neunzehn, zwanzig.”

  André put his hands up to stop everyone from speaking. “Hey! Hey! What are you saying, Miss Madison?”

  “I am speaking German. My grandmother taught me when I was little.”

  André translated to the other children.

  “They want to know how to speak German too.”

  “Yes! Please!”

  “S’il vous plaît.”

  “Tanpri!” some begged in Haitian Creole.

  When panic flashed across Madison’s face, Araceli took over and directed the children in broken French to sit in a half circle in the gathering area near where they’d marked off the walls. Madison held up her index finger. “Ein.”

  “Ein.”

  Madison smiled and nodded. “Zwei.”

  The children mimicked her by holding up two fingers. “Zwei.”

  Araceli paced off the rest of the wall now followed only by Marie. She wondered where Tia was. She pictured the older girl from the slide presentation. If she didn’t find her this morning, she would ask Marci.

  Kyle hurried around the corner, followed by Jade. He stopped and studied the children, who now held up seven fingers. “Sieben.”

  The smile on Jade’s face faded as Kyle went over to Araceli. “I thought you had a mini riot on your hands up here.”

  “No, just some enthusiastic helpers.” Araceli turned and continued to heel-toe along the wall.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ninety-eight,” Araceli whispered before answering. “I need to know how much paintable wall there is for the art gallery before I start chalking the designs. I would hate to run out of room.” Araceli took two more steps and made a mark high up on the wall.

  Jade joined them. “Why did you do that?”

  “I am marking every ten feet of wall.”

  “Why don’t you use a tape measure?” Jade crossed her arms.

  Araceli shrugged. “It is more fun this way. Besides, I know my tennis shoe is eleven and three-quarters inches long, and I have access to my foot whenever I need it. I won’t need to go bother Tanner or Boyd every time I need to measure.”

  “You know your measurement won’t be precise.”

  Araceli resisted the urge to tell Jade to put her claws away. “Of course not. This is art, not architecture.”

  Kyle took a half step forward, breaking the tension. “It looks like you have things in hand up here. Will you be painting today?”

  “I am not sure. It depends how fast I can get things chalked off and taped.” She counted off another ten steps.

  “Did you find everything you needed in the donation room?”

  Araceli nodded. “André was very helpful. He asked Marie to spread the word not to erase my chalk marks, so I think they’ll leave them alone.”

  Kyle raised two fingers to his brow and gave a mock salute before heading for the central stairway. Jade narrowed her eyes for a millisecond before following him.

  “I’d be careful of her if I were you,” whispered Kate.

  “Any idea what I did to get on her bad side?”

  “You mean other than your dark curls, brown eyes, and ivory skin? She knows how to compete against all the other skinny, tan, blonde Texas socialites, but you are an enigma. And all the guys are looking at you more than they are at her.”

  Warmth flooded Araceli’s cheeks, and she dipped her head to give the heat a moment to dissipate. “Don’t worry, it won’t last long. It never does.” The children started clapping and counting at the same time.

  “We’d better hurry up and finish.” Araceli measured out the last wall. One hundred and seventy feet. She needed more. She closed her eyes and envisioned her various sketches. Staggering the clipboards was going to be her only option. But she still wanted to keep them high enough the toddlers could not easily reach the boards. “I’ll be right back, I need to go grab a few of the clipboards.”

  Why did women feel it necessary to compete? He should have seen Jade’s concern about Araceli’s group for the tattletale it was. Teaching the children to count in a language they never heard was a brilliant way to entertain them. One thing the orphanage was never short on was children ready to volunteer to help any visitor, whether or not help was needed.

 
The roof job didn’t need any young helping hands, and keeping the curious children from climbing the exterior stairway to the roof during the repair process was already tricky. It usually wasn’t a problem as the children knew not to play on the roof, but the lure of watching the men remove the banks of solar panels was too great. Kyle dug through the supply room. Last fall they’d purchased three expandable gates for when they needed to move the children to the interior of the building during hurricanes as the infant and toddler rooms were all located in rooms with windows, as were the dormitories. Lack of ventilation made it necessary to keep the doors open. Last hurricane, a couple of curious toddlers had kept the workers busy in a game of escape-room junior.

  Kyle moved a case of diapers and found the gates. Hopefully one at the top of the stairway would help keep the children clear of the roof area. They could still see some of the work but not be in danger.

  On his way back to the roof, he passed through the third-floor common area, where Jade, Chelsea, and EmilyAnne were showing several of the teen and preteen girls how to use the sewing machines while Marci translated. His sister had started coming to the orphanage when she was only eight and picked up much of the language from her playmates. In the years since, few of them had been adopted, and the remaining ones were getting close to aging out. Marci did her best to help them find ways to further their education.

  Kyle scanned the room for Marlissa. Born with cerebral palsy, the ten-year-old had been abandoned on the streets as a toddler. Marci had sponsored the child and spent most of her allowance paying for Marlissa’s special education and physical therapy. She even took a job in Mom’s office last summer to pay for some special braces and a speech therapist.

  Some people were surprised at the fact that Marci had earned money for such a cause, but both Father and Grandfather were adamant his children and grandchildren learn to work and choose a profession. After all, it was as easy for rich kids to spend their life on the dole as it was for poor kids, and twice as easy when there was a trust fund. But waiting for the next handout was not a way to live.