In Every Cloud

by Tina Michele

  The smell of smoke and a burning pancake jolted Bree from her mind. She flipped the fan button on her range hood, turned off the burner, and swatted at the smoky air with a dishrag. As she pushed open the French doors onto the patio, her cell phone rang. She continued to fan the smoke outside as she answered the phone. It wasn’t until she heard Carson’s voice that she realized she should’ve looked at the caller ID first. Bree had avoided her calls for four days until then, and it was too late to hang up. “Hi.”

  “Hi. I’m surprised you answered the phone this time. I assumed I’d be leaving another voice mail.”

  “Yeah. I was sort of distracted when I answered.”

  “Oh. I see. Thank God for little distractions, then.”

  “Yeah, just a small kitchen fire is all.”

  “Shit, Bree are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just smoke. It’s mostly gone now. So, how are things?” She wanted to hear Carson say that the last few days were as bad for her as they had been for Bree. She stepped out onto the back porch and sat on the deck.

  “Oh, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Bree swung her legs down over the side and stared at the grass below.

  “Bree, I wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry and that I’ll be home tonight. Maybe I could come by and we could talk.”

  Bree’s stomach twisted and a lump rose in her throat. She was a mix of anticipation and apprehension. She wanted to see and hold Carson with every fiber of her being, but Bree’s heart ached at the thought of what she had to say. “I don’t—”

  “Please, Bree. I miss you. I’m not going to Ohio. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even offer me the job after the fool I made of myself while I was there. But I don’t care, because I don’t want to be in Dayton. I don’t want to be anywhere that doesn’t have you. I need you, Bree. I need us. Please.”

  The tears ran down her cheeks, and Bree did nothing to stop them. She’d thought about that moment every day since she had pushed Carson out of her life. What would she say? What would she do if she had one more chance to tell her how she felt? “Are you really not going?”

  “I am most definitely not going, my love. Please, when can I see you?”

  Bree’s heart burst with joy, and she knew. “Tomorrow morning. Meet me at the staircase at eight.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Bree forced herself to say good-bye to Carson and hang up the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Bree paced at the base of the staircase. She was both nervous and excited to see Carson. She had spent the previous night pressed into her couch while she scrolled through the pictures on her phone. Each time she came to a photo of Carson, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered, and she couldn’t help but smile. Bree couldn’t believe that someone could make her feel that way even through pictures. Her favorite was one she took of Carson as she lay in her lap and stuck her tongue out at the camera. It was such a carefree and happy moment that Bree’s heart swelled with love.

  Bree tried to wait patiently as she had planned, but when her eyes met Carson’s from across the room she grew anxious. She tried to contain herself as she shuffled across the foyer to close the immense space between them. The exhaustion she had felt from her days of restless sleep had all but disappeared as her heart raced with anticipation. They each slid to a stop inches from the other. Bree took a few moments to stare into Carson’s clear crystal eyes and fell into character. “Good morning, Ms. Harper, and welcome to the Biltmore Estate.”

  Carson chuckled and played along. “Thank you.”

  “If you are ready, we can go ahead and get started with your private tour.”

  Carson raised her eyebrow at Bree. “A private tour?”

  “Yes. Just for you. Shall we?” Bree motioned in the direction of the staircase.

  *

  Bree walked Carson back toward the staircase, although Carson felt more like she had floated there. Carson didn’t care if the tour was for a hundred people. She would never have noticed them anyway. “Yes.”

  “This is the Grand Staircase. Its cantilevered design uses the weight of the walls to support each limestone step.” Bree pointed upward to the massive light fixture. “This seventeen hundred pound electric chandelier contains seventy-two bulbs and is held aloft by a single bolt.” She moved up to the second step. “I was standing right here the first moment I saw you. You ran toward me at a sprint. I was so mesmerized by you that I barely jumped out of the way before you ran me over. I watched you take the steps two at a time until you disappeared up there. Follow me, please.” Bree led Carson across the foyer to the Winter Garden.

  “This garden was often used for family dinners by the Vanderbilts.” Bree stood inside one of the small doorways that led into the sunny room. “Each and every morning as I start my tours you stand here and watch me. You think I don’t see you, but I do, and it makes me smile.”

  Carson had been on many tours through the Biltmore, but this was already the one she would always remember. She walked with Bree to the Banquet Hall.

  “This is the Banquet Hall and one of my favorite rooms in the house. Up there is the Organ Balcony, which houses a 1916 Skinner Pipe Organ. The organ itself is not original to the house, as the original was donated to a church in the village. This one was installed in 1999.” Bree turned to Carson and addressed her. “You went out of your way to participate in my first tour of the house. You never took your eyes off me, and I was scared to death to screw up in front of you. You made me so nervous that I still don’t know how I passed that test. This way, please.” Bree led Carson back to the staircase and up to the second floor.

  When they entered the Damask Room, Carson knew what was coming. Bree was about to take her opportunity to razz her for the verbal lashing Carson had given her.

  “This is the Damask Room. I accidentally touched this chair and set off the alarms.” It was all she said before she sped off into the next room. “This is the Claude Room, named after one of Vanderbilt’s favorite artists.” Bree stopped in the middle of the room. “And here is where I was verbally accosted by the most gorgeous and passionate woman I have ever laid eyes on. You made me so angry and so exhilarated that I didn’t know if I wanted to punch you or kiss you.” Carson laughed and reached out for Bree. “No, no. Please don’t molest the staff…yet.” Bree winked.

  Carson followed along as Bree led them back downstairs. She was overwhelmed by the pure thoughtfulness and heart that Bree had put into this time together. She didn’t think she could love Bree any more than she did after their run-in with Marion, but each minute of the tour made her fall deeper in love with who Bree was. Carson wanted to hold her in her arms and promise her anything she could ever want or need. She would give her every cloud in the sky if she asked for it. She deserved it, and Carson wanted to be the one who gave it to her.

  Bree continued out the main entrance and onto the lawn. “This is the Biltmore. It was built over a course of six years and was designed by Richard Morris Hunt and Frederick Law Olmstead.” Bree pointed to the facade of the house. “The building is constructed from Indiana limestone that Vanderbilt specifically chose for its bright and reflective qualities. The roof tiles were attached one at a time by hand, and the copper flashings were installed to keep out moisture.” Bree turned and stepped toward Carson. She looked up at Carson and smiled. “It’s where I grew up and where everyone I hold dear calls home. It’s where I found myself, where I found my future, and most importantly, it’s where I fell in love with you.”

  Bree threw her arms around Carson’s shoulders and pulled her close. A knot tied in Carson’s throat. She stared into Bree’s warm eyes and knew she was in the very place she was meant to be. “I love you so much.”

  “And I love you, Carson Harper.”

  “Is it okay if I molest you now?”

  Bree flashed a smile before Carson kissed her with all the passion and love that she had ever felt. She
was complete, and they were home.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Oh my God. I’m so nervous.”

  “You’re nervous? Imagine how your uncle feels right now.” Barbara tucked a wayward strand of hair back behind Bree’s ear.

  “Can you believe this is finally happening?”

  “It’s a dream come true.” Bree clutched Barbara’s hand in hers.

  A man in a black tuxedo entered the room and announced that it was time to go. Bree and Barbara giggled like teenagers and squeezed each other’s hands. Bree was overwhelmed with emotion. She tipped her head back and took a deep breath.

  “Ready?” Barbara asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.” Bree and Barbara followed the gentleman out into the hallway and down the corridor to where the horse-drawn carriage waited. A finely dressed man in a black top hat stood next to a Victorian vis-à-vis carriage drawn by two large draft horses. Bree had never been on this side of the moment, and she was awestruck. The man helped her up. She sat and reached out her hand to steady Barbara as she climbed in across from her.

  Once they were settled, the coachman flicked the reins and they were on their way.

  Bree’s heart raced with excitement and anticipation. She turned to Barbara. “Is this everything you thought it would be?”

  “And more. How are you feeling?”

  “Still quite nervous, actually. You?”

  “Excited.” Barbara grinned from ear to ear and reached across to squeeze Bree’s knee through her dress.

  As they pulled around onto the side road, Bree and Barbara gasped at the sight. The sun was setting over the distant mountains, and the white limestone of the house blushed with pink and yellow. The clouds that billowed in the sky were flushed pink, and Bree was overwhelmed at the happiness that flooded her soul. They pulled to a stop on the lawn where the beginning of a long white aisle was lined with bouquets of fall blooms. Two large cast iron gates weaved with the colors of autumn and vines stood tall to welcome them.

  “Here we are. You are so beautiful.” Bree stood and took the footman’s hand as he helped her down from the carriage. She adjusted her dress before she smiled and stepped purposefully down the aisle toward Carson and her uncle. Rustic lanterns hung from cast iron posts at the end of each row. The candles in each flickered and cast a romantic light on the white fabric at her feet and illuminated the warm hues of the flowers that spiraled up the posts.

  Bree approached the large arbor of the altar. Matching blooms and flowers adorned the ornate archway that framed the grand entrance of the beautiful estate behind it. The setting sun glinted off the reflective glass windows and added another level of enchanting light. Carson looked stunning in a black suit and tie. Bree couldn’t take her eyes off Carson. As Bree approached the end of the aisle, she winked at her and blew a kiss to Jim. She slipped off to her place on the left and turned as the guests stood to face Barbara in her beautiful white gown.

  Bree looked at her uncle as everyone else watched the bride. His expression was one of pure love and true happiness. She knew what it looked like because it was what she felt when she gazed at Carson. Her eyes met Carson’s as they looked adoringly back at her. Yes. She knew those feelings so well. Carson smiled and Bree’s heart melted. Bree loved her beyond words, and it meant more than anything that Carson stood next to her uncle on his amazing day. Bree smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”

  And Carson replied as always, “Anything.”

  About the Author

  Tina Michele is a Florida girl living on the banks of the Indian River Lagoon in the biggest small town on the Space Coast. She enjoys all the benefits of living in the Sunshine State. During the day, she pretends to do what they pay her for but really spends most of that time daydreaming and plotting some wild adventure. She graduated from the University of Central Florida with her BA in interdisciplinary studies—the most liberal of the liberal arts degrees—majoring in fine art and writing with a minor in women’s studies. To say she is motivated by her Right brain is a major understatement. Afflicted with self-diagnosed Sagittarian Attention Deficit Disorder, she spends a lot of time starting projects that she may, possibly, one day, probably finish. When she isn’t writing, playing, drawing, painting, or creating something of some sort, she feeds and waters the three dogs that are permanently tethered to her hindquarters.

  Tina can be contacted at tina@tmichele.com or follow her on twitter @tmichelewrites.

  Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

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