She laughed. “That’s highly privileged information.”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is that it’s about time somebody discovered one of Vista Peak’s pearls. Zed Evans is a blessed man.”
Nate Jr’s words touched her. And made her sad. What would he think when she was divorced in a few months? Why couldn’t his words have been true? Why couldn’t someone have discovered her like a jewel? Instead, she had a relationship as fake as cubic zirconium.
Tasha’s phone pinged, and a glance at it showed a text from a former bridal client.
Nate Jr. looked past her to the small line of people that had gathered up front to pay their bill. “Sweetie, take a seat wherever you’d like. And your meal is on the house. As a belated wedding gift.” He headed toward the counter and the waiting patrons.
Tasha found an empty booth near the window as she reviewed her text from Shayla Mitchell-Jons, whose wedding she’d planned the previous year.
Tasha. Hey! Matt and I just celebrated our first year of marriage. I’ve got news. We’re expecting our first child! You were such a part of making our big day wonderful, I wanted to share the news with you and wish you a happy New Year. I hope you are doing good. May all your dreams come true.
“Can I take your order?”
Tasha looked up to find a new waitress she didn’t recognize. The girl looked college age and Tasha guessed she probably went to Vista Peak West.
She hadn’t had a chance to review the menu, but she knew it by heart. “I’ll have the number four special, with sausage links and half orange juice, half cranberry juice, with a dash of sparkling water.”
The girl’s dark eyebrows wiggled, probably at Tasha’s unusual beverage order. She scribbled on her order pad. “Got it. Thanks.” The waitress left.
Tasha texted Shayla her congratulations. Her client was living out the life she’d once hoped for herself. She remembered Shayla’s effervescent joy as they planned her wedding, as well as her declaration that God gave her the desires of her heart with her amazing fiancé. The comment had unexpectedly sliced through Tasha’s heart. The girl was barely out of college, and she’d found love. Yet, Tasha had waited and longed for the same for over thirty-five years, before her heart had finally been shattered beyond repair. And what did she have to show for it? A fake marriage that in some ways mocked her even more. Had she not been worthy of the real thing? Did God favor some people over others?
She shut down the troubling thoughts before they took her down a road she wasn’t ready to travel.
* * *
Zed loosened his tie as he entered the Victorian. Following an amazing smell to the kitchen, he found a note on the counter from Tasha. “Add a side salad to the main dish—a roast in the slow cooker—then simply insert in mouth and swallow.” She’d drawn a little happy face emoji to end the note.
Many nights growing up, he’d come home from school to a dark house. This was a clue that his mother was sequestered in her room, in the throes of depression. He’d had to fend for himself and often lived off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
How he’d longed for a house filled with the smells of dinner, a bright, happy place that he was eager to come home to, like Tasha had made the Victorian. Not that he hadn’t had happy times with his mother—he had. Unfortunately, the darker, sadder times occurred more often than he’d wished.
Zed halted his thought. This wasn’t real. Tasha was a Band-Aid, not the cure for his life. She wasn’t interested in a real marriage, and neither was he.
He grabbed a fork and captured a piece of roast along with a carrot from the simmering pot.
“Hey.”
Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized Tasha had come home.
“Hey, yourself,” he said. He felt like a kid caught mid-prank, having been spotted eating from the slow cooker.
She had a mock stern look on her face, softened by her smile. “Seriously, I know your mother taught you better than that.”
He grinned sheepishly and pointed a finger to his brain. “It’s all about strategy. I’m saving on dirtying dishes. Less for us to wash.” He winked at his own brilliance.
“First, Einstein, we don’t wash the dishes. The dishwasher does that. Second, that was truly the most pitiful excuse ever for bad manners.”
He chuckled as he popped the food he’d secured into his mouth.
“Seriously, though,” Tasha said. “I have a question. Might I use one of the spare rooms upstairs for a makeshift office? I’d like to work on my business plan for the New Year, explore some fresh marketing ideas and prep for some upcoming client projects.”
“Sure. Take whatever room you’d like.”
“Just so you know, I’m a bit of an aesthetic person. Atmosphere matters and inspires me. I may put up pictures of brides, flowers, stuff like that. It’ll be a hard-core estrogen zone for a while.”
Zed’s brows jumped and settled in surprise. “Duly noted. I’ll wear my testosterone hazmat suit if I have to enter.”
“Hazmat suit. Wow. Zed, may I ask you another question?”
He grabbed a clean dish towel and placed the fork he’d been using on it. “Sure.”
“Did you ever want to be married?”
Her question sobered him. “No.”
She groaned. “Wow. I think I have a gift.”
“For what?” he asked.
“Finding noncommittal men. I’m better than a heat-seeking missile.”
Her words hit him in the chest. “Not every noncommittal man is running from commitment. Some have made a choice to commit to other things. I would think you’d understand, as you yourself aren’t interested in marriage, by choice.”
Tasha studied him. “It wasn’t always that way. Searching for love is kind of like being a warrior in a long battle. You fight hard, steel yourself against every defeat, but slowly, with each lost battle, you lose a little bit of your heart, a little bit of yourself. Until that one final loss tips the scales and changes everything. And just like that, your courage, your hope—it’s just gone.”
Zed’s heart ached at the defeat and sadness in Tasha’s eyes. He wanted to say something to make her feel better. But he had nothing. In a strange way, he understood her analogy from a different perspective. For many years he’d longed for his dad to come to his senses and realize what a wonderful wife he had and to change the paradigm of his life, putting work in the right perspective. Zed hoped his father would come home one day, admit his mistake and give Zed’s mother the love and adoration she desired and deserved. But it never happened. And Zed remembered the day that he, like Tasha, lost hope things would ever change.
“I’m going to head upstairs and take a look at the small bedroom at the end of the hall for my office,” she said.
“Do you mind if I come along?” Although he didn’t know what to say, he wanted to be with her, to offer her any small comfort he could.
“Sure.”
Zed waited in the small corner bedroom while Tasha changed out of her work clothes. The room was just across from his bedroom. It was intimate and cozy, and it would be perfect for a makeshift office for her. It had a feminine feel about it, too, with its cream-corn-yellow wallpaper with tiny, green-leafed daisies. There was a small daybed, a bookshelf and two matching floor lamps. A big, circular Persian rug filled up the space. In the corner, there was a miniature rolltop desk.
When Tasha entered the room, carrying a laptop, she surveyed the space before going to the small closet door in the room and opening it. She pulled out a few boxes, some folded old clothes and a moderate-size bulletin board.
“This bulletin board will be perfect for my vision board for the bride.”
“Vision board?” he asked.
“Yes. For every client, I make a personal vision board for the couple. It’s mostly to provide a broad overview of the project and a placeholder for no
tes and reminders, as well as to keep me inspired. Sometimes when things become tedious or challenging, I need to be reminded why I’m doing what I’m doing—that I’m helping facilitate one of the most important days in a couple’s lives—a beautiful day that celebrates their love.”
Zed wondered if she knew how her face and features lit up when she talked about what she loved. Had it been hard helping others get married, while her constant companion was rejection and unrequited love?
He was surprised to find a lump in his throat. Tasha hadn’t deserved what happened to her, just like his mother hadn’t deserved her treatment. There was a scripture in the Bible where God talked about wanting to take His children under His wing, so if anything tried to get to them, it would have to get past God first.
He had the urge to cover Tasha from all the hurt and harm she’d experienced. But reality checked his noble thoughts at the door. He was in no place to protect her or any other woman. He’d made his vow and he was a man who kept his word. He knew where his priorities lay. Maybe he was the appetizer before the real meal in Tasha’s life. Though her heart was closed, maybe God had a surprise up His sleeve that would blow her mind—a love she never expected.
Yes, he liked that idea. He squished the surprising sadness that bubbled in his chest.
Tasha sat at the small desk in the room and fired up her laptop. “I’d like to show you something,” she said. She maneuvered to her email and to an online video.
“Today I got a text from a former client named Shayla, who’s celebrating her first year of marriage and expecting a baby. Before they were married, she sent me this video. It’s one of my favorites. Unknown to the bride, the groom planned a scavenger hunt, based on the locations of their first dates. In each place, he paid someone to secretly shoot footage of them. When they arrived at the final place, he proposed, and their best friends turned out to be secretly filming the whole thing, and afterward came out from their hiding places, along with family members. I love how the proposal is simple and sweet and how the groom-to-be looks at his fiancée as if she’s cherished and priceless.”
Zed thought of his impromptu proposal, more like a business pitch, at Union Station, and their subsequent wedding in the cool, sterile halls of the justice of the peace. He felt bad.
Life had certainly taken Tasha down a different path than her client. The woman’s sweet proposal surrounded by her J.Crew-dressed friends with perfect hair, smiles and teeth, looked like a commercial for young love in a perfect world.
He studied his grandmother’s ring gleaming on Tasha’s finger. It glittered from the outdoor light sifting through the lace curtains. It was a beautiful ring, stunning, really. He was sure his grandmother never meant for her wedding ring to be a prop for a loveless relationship. Her own eternal love and tragic loss that the ring had represented until now had been too precious for that.
Chapter Ten
Tasha couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. It was New Year’s Day, which always brought her a sense of renewed hope and possibility. She felt revived and excited. She found Zed in the kitchen, drinking a glass of orange juice. Milo was thirstily gulping milk from a nearby bowl.
“Zed, what do you think about christening the New Year by going to Nate’s Nest? We can share our dreams for the New Year.”
“Well, I had some plans in mind, but this is all about you, so your wish for the day is my command.”
They dressed and headed to the town square. They decided to walk, due to the unseasonably warm Colorado morning.
Tasha never got tired of strolling through the beautiful historic neighborhood and admiring the homes. When they arrived in the town square, it was obvious that other folks had the same idea of taking advantage of the beautiful day. The square was bustling with clumps of folks going into restaurants and shops, and some sitting in the gazebo in the park square across from the courthouse.
When they arrived at Nate’s Nest, Tasha would have thought the President of the United States had entered the place, from Nate’s response. He leaped from behind the counter and gave both of them a hug. Afterward, he profusely shook Zed’s hand. “You are a man blessed beyond measure—I hope you know that,” Nate declared.
Zed looked her way. “I do,” he answered.
Her heart started off on a sprint. She took deep breaths. Slow your roll, girl. He’s speaking because he’s under contract. Nothing more.
“Only the best booth in the house for my friends,” Nate said. He motioned a waitress over to clean a booth located in a prime spot for viewing the town square. The young girl who’d assisted her when she was at Nate’s earlier in the week quickly removed the dirty dishes, glasses and silverware. She then ran a soapy wet rag over the table multiple times.
Nate stretched out a hand, guiding them to the booth, where they both sat.
“By the way, man, I was sorry to hear about your aunt Zora’s death. If she was half as sweet as your mother, I’m sure she was a wonderful woman,” Nate said.
“Thanks, man. That means a lot,” Zed replied.
They both reviewed the menu and relayed their meal choices to the waitress. When the waitress left, Zed observed her.
“So tell me some of your New Year’s goals.”
She informed Zed that she’d started scouting out possible sites for her wedding venue.
“What about you? What are some of your goals?” she asked.
Zed shared how in addition to saving the Victorian, he wanted to start the year fresh and put the wounds of his father’s actions behind him.
“Well, color me shallow. My goal feels pretty silly compared to yours.”
Zed shook his head in disagreement. “That’s not true. They’re yours and they are important to you. That’s all that matters.”
A random thought crossed her mind. If Zed dealt with the wounds of his father, could that impact his decision to never marry? Tasha shooshed the thought away. It was what she did with guys. She put on rose-tinted glasses and hoped for change, and it always led to the same conclusion—disappointment.
Later, when they arrived home, she peeled off her coat. Before she could even think about it, Zed had taken it from her and hung it on the coat rack by the stairwell.
“Thanks,” she said. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve become this well-oiled machine.
Her phone chimed. An unknown number gleamed on the screen, but Tasha recognized it. This was the third time the person had called in a week. They never left a message, but she recognized the Denver area code. She wondered if it was yet another one of the credit companies calling. They were relentless.
She tapped to answer. “Hello.”
There was silence on the other end. Was this a crank call?
“Hel-lo,” she repeated.
“Is this Violet-Sage Jenkins’s daughter?”
Tasha fought her irritation. She hated when strangers called and rudely launched into interrogation.
“Yes. Who’s calling, please?”
The man on the other end wheezed and coughed. “My name is Vincent. I knew your mother.”
Tasha breathed deeply and tried to maintain her cool.
“I was sorry to hear about her death.”
An electric volt pierced Tasha’s heart. “Thank you.”
“She was a good woman.”
Zed appeared from the kitchen with a coffee cup and started to speak but paused when he saw her on the phone. He whispered, “Coffee?”
She gave him a thumbs-up before returning her attention to the call. “Were you a friend of hers?” Tasha wasn’t ready to reveal much about herself to the stranger yet.
The man half hiccuped and laughed. “You could say that.”
Could you get to the point in this century? She instantly chastised herself. The man sounded feeble.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but how can I help you?”
&nbs
p; “Your name’s Tasha, right?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Do you pronounce that with a hard ‘a’ like ‘ate’ or with a soft ‘a’ like ‘ahhh’?”
The conversation was getting weirder by the minute. “Soft a,” she replied.
“Tasha, I’m your father.”
At that moment, in her mind, Tasha saw a runaway freight train suddenly hit a solid brick wall. The train cars bunched up, crumpled and twisted in odd angles. “Excuse me?”
“I’m your father,” the man slowly repeated, as if she hadn’t understood his words.
Her patience snapped. “I don’t have a father.”
“Darlin’, I believe biology would disagree with you on that point.” A wheezy, distinct cackle wafted through her phone. A cackle. He had a wild cackle. Like her.
The gravity of his words hit her full force. This man was claiming he was her father. A man her mother never spoke of, except to say their union had been a mistake. And that he wasn’t worth wasting her breath on.
Tasha heard the microwave beep in the kitchen. Soon after, Zed reappeared. “Coffee’s ready,” he whispered.
Tasha nodded.
“I’m sorry—did you say your name was Van?” she asked the stranger.
“Vincent,” he emphatically replied.
“Sorry. Vincent, can I get back with you?” She needed to process the bomb the man had just dropped in her lap.
“You promise to call me back?”
She paused. She didn’t like to make empty promises. Giving her word was sacred. “Yes,” she said finally. “I’ve got your number on my phone now.”
“Okay. You have a good evening.”
“You, too,” she said. Even when she was irritated, her manners were always intact. She pressed the button to end the call.
“I’ll be right there, Zed.” She headed to the half bath, just under the stairwell. After closing the door, she leaned against it and tried to slow her erratic breathing. She felt like she’d been hit with a two-by-four.
Claiming His Christmas Inheritance Page 12