“Send it to this address, please. Thank you, sport.” My grandfather handed the boy a business card. “We’ll send that to Grace and your mother when we get it. What room are you in?” my grandfather asked.
“I—uh, don’t know,” I said and fumbled into my pocket for the key.
“She’s in 502,” Philippe said. “I’m right next door.”
“I’ll have Mary drop off an outfit for you and I’ll see you for breakfast.” My grandfather kissed my cheek, shook Blake’s hand and disappeared into an elevator.
“Get good rest, my love.” My father hugged me long and tight. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
He shook Blake’s hand then hugged him as well.
Chapter 59
Blake shut our hotel room door behind us, swept me into his arms, and twirled me across the room. When we reached the window that overlooked Central Park, he pressed his lips to mine in a long, slow kiss, the kind that brought forever into a moment.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said. Moonbeams illuminated his face and accentuated the beautiful crystal blue of his eyes.
“You didn’t.” I stroked the stubble-free angles of his jaw and marveled at the clean-cut boyish handsomeness of his face.
“We could have been parted forever, lost in different directions of time.” He drew me close.
“We’re together. We made it. We win this time, remember?” I said. Carolena was right. Wisdom earned is wisdom kept.
Blake took a red rose from the nearby vase and handed it to me. Its scent was delicate and intoxicating, a song to my senses.
“It seems we’ve traded emotional places on this issue,” he said.
I laughed quietly and unbuttoned his vest and crisp white shirt, needing his skin beneath my fingers. “I guess I’ve conquered a few fears since we last saw one another.”
He turned me around slowly, moved my hair aside, and unzipped my dress. Heavy with blotches of mud, it thudded to the floor.
“There was this moment in Wentworth’s painting when I really didn’t know if Philippe and I would make it. Otto's obstacles in the path were incredibly realistic, Wentworth’s emotions were crippling, and every fear of loss I’ve ever had came out to play.
“But I faced them. Then hope showed up, and strength wasn’t too far behind it. That’s when I realized all I had was whatever I could fight for. And I was going to fight for my family. I wasn’t going to let Otto take you away from me again.” I turned to him.
Blake’s grin widened, all traces of his fears vanished. “Family is an important thing.”
“Family is everything.” I slid my hands into his, our fingers twined together at my side. Beneath the glow of the 1920s moon that we had lived under once before, he kissed me. On this occasion, time didn’t stand still. It ceased to exist. We had conquered it.
Blake sat me at the vanity and tried to dismantle the rest of my failing hairdo. With the knowledge that he, my father, and grandfather were safe, my shoulders relaxed and my mind calmed. No matter where we landed in time, it was home as long as Blake and I were together.
The snow-dusted park glistened below us like a page from a storybook. “The simplicity here is so peaceful. There’s very little to resist. Not at all like it is where we come from.”
He lifted the mudded dress from the floor and laid it on an armless chair next to me. The chair was covered in slate blue fabric with gold vines and floral blooms running vertically. Normally I would have thought it a beautiful antique, but I realized it was quite a current fashion. The silk was cool to my touch.
“What’s it like here?” I raised my eyes and found Blake staring at me in the mirror, his own eyes soft. His gaze was full of something deeper, less fearful. He tipped my chin and touched his lips to mine, slow and full of love, mixed with passion.
“Nice,” he said when he leaned back.
“Nice?”
“1920s New York. It’s nice.” He laughed.
I smiled and restrained myself from punching him in the arm.
“There’s something…special about this decade. People are excited to be alive and they’re looking forward to a bright future. Most are concerned with what really matters in life, not their social media pages—a refreshing change.”
“It’s like being in a dream.” I marveled at the park below us, which felt tranquil and crime-free.
He plucked the remaining pins from my hair, dropped them on the dresser, and thick, mudded curls fell onto my upper back.
“Tell me what it was like to see them,” he said.
“A lifelong dream come true.” I sighed. “In many ways, everything I thought it would be. Minus the mud and the wasp stings, I guess.”
He chuckled and tried to run a flat-bristled brush through the length of my hair.
The brush scratched pitifully against the surface of the tangles. “I’m glad you found them. It was a long-overdue reunion.”
I nodded. “What do you think Carolena’s plan is?”
Blake shrugged. “I don’t always know with her. She has more secrets than…than—”
“Than Grace?”
“Than Grace.” He laughed and brushed another length of my hair and found a hidden hair pin. He dropped it on the vanity with the others and it made a thin, tinny sound. “John thinks they might go to that house they built. I don’t know what Carolena has up her sleeve.”
I thought about how we’d step out of the hotel in the morning into a bustling 1920 to begin what was next. Very few the wiser that we weren’t from this time.
“I think we’re just going to have to wash this out in the tub,” he said. “I’m sure there’s shampoo in there. I’ll help you.”
He ran a warm sudsy bath and I climbed in. Eerily, the tub reminded me of the one I’d crawled into after Jack had been killed. Blake slipped his shirt off and I stroked his bare arm to remind me that he was alive.
“How is it?” I caressed the bandage on his upper arm.
“Better,” he said. “I’m lucky to be alive.”
“Thank God you are,” I said. “At least we did that right this time.”
“We’ve done a lot of things right this time.”
“You’re right,” I said, and thought of all we’d overcome.
Blake lathered my hair and the scent of coconut filled the room. I wondered how my hair would look after a run with 1920s shampoo. The watery mud ran down my skin and I realized that it wasn't mud at all.
“This is paint. Wentworth’s paint.”
He rubbed a chunk of it between his fingers and thumb, studied it closely as it melted. “Makes sense, I guess.”
A quiet knock sounded from the hotel room door. Blake left to answer it while I rinsed and combed through my tropical-scented hair and dried it to damp with a fresh towel.
Wrapped in a towel, I emerged to find Blake pouring red wine into flat-bottomed wine glasses.
“Someone deliver that?” I asked, and slid under the too-cool sheets. I tucked the down comforter around me for warmth.
“Your grandfather has been importing French wine over the last few years. He doesn’t plan on suffering through prohibition.”
“Bless him,” I said.
“He also brought you those, they’re from his lady friend.” He nodded toward a black velvet coat with gold beaded art deco design along the hem. A navy blue velvet dress with silvery details was laid on the chair next to it. Metallic shoes sat on the floor, ready to wear. An enamel mesh handbag with a tiny clock in the metalwork hung on the chair back.
“She really is a fashion plate,” I said of my grandfather’s friend.
Blake handed the glasses of wine to me, and notes of ripe berries, chocolate, and a hint of licorice swirled through the air.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had wine from the early part of the 1900s before,” I said, and inhaled the flavors.
“It’s pretty amazing.” Blake shed the rest of his day clothes and crawled into bed, careful to keep his healing arm on t
he opposite side of me.
“Ooooh, you’re ahead of me on this time-warped wine tasting thing.”
“Hard not to be. Your grandfather has a warehouse full of the stuff.”
“Love that man,” I said, and snuggled closer.
We posed our glasses to face one another. I exhaled deep and slow, grateful that we were together again.
“To…finding Carolena?” I suggested.
“We’ll find Carolena,” he said, his intent firm and clear.
“To the end of Otto.” I raised my glass and enjoyed the feeling of having trumped him.
“Oh, this will be the end of Otto,” Blake said.
I had no doubt.
He leaned in and I realized just what that something deeper was that I’d seen earlier. Trust.
“To our love. It has survived the curse of death and passed the tests of time. May it always,” he said.
“May it always,” I said. Our glasses clinked together.
Blake pressed his lips against mine with a love that sealed the circle of our past and present, and shone a bright light on our future.
Thank you so much for continuing the journey with Blake and Addie in Somewhere in Time! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please help other readers find this book by:
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My heartfelt gratitude …
…to my husband for his continued support and encouragement & to my boys for being such brilliant blessings in my life, the three of you make life worth living.
…to Libby Murphy for being the most amazing editor.
…to Hughes for his kindness to read and critique.
…to Lucinda for reading, for her feedback and for her generous friendship.
About the Author …
Alyssa Richards is a paranormal romance author who lives in the South with her husband and two children. She recently published the first two paranormal romance books in The Fine Art of Deception Series. She is currently working on the third in the series as well as a gothic novel. Alyssa’s writing is influenced by her curiosity with ghosts and the supernatural world. She writes daily and believes that discipline and commitment to the craft are critical to be a successful writer. Alyssa enjoys travel, nurturing her herb and rose garden and holds the world record for taking two dogs from homeless to pampered.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Reviews for The Fine Art of Deception, Undoing Time
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Dedication
About the Author
Somewhere in Time Page 30