When Love Returns

by Lorana Hoopes

  Brandon leaned against the closed door and ran his hand over his face. Morgan. Back in his life. He was not expecting this, and he had no idea how to feel about it.

  The clatter of the bowl falling into the sink broke his thoughts. Joy smiled sheepishly from the sink. “Sorry, Daddy.”

  “It’s okay, Bug. How about we get dressed and see what there is to do around here, huh?”

  “Okay.” She shrugged, and her voice was flatter than normal.

  He had been hoping for more enthusiasm, but he was sure the city would grow on her.

  After they were both dressed, he peeked out the hole in the door. Morgan no longer stood in the hallway, but he wondered if she would be watching for them to leave. He opened the door slowly and scanned the hallway before pulling Joy out the door and locking it behind them.

  As he pressed the elevator button, he worried that Morgan would be in the car when it opened, but no one was inside. His heart resumed its normal beating.

  Five minutes later, they exited the lobby into the cold New York air. Dirty snow lined the sidewalks from a previous storm, creating a cloudy white atmosphere. They joined the steady stream of people heading right. Joy clasped his hands tightly as people pushed past them. Smells from the neighboring restaurants competed against each other as they passed their doors.

  After a few blocks, Joy began slowing down. Brandon slowed his pace to match hers, sure there was a park nearby. It finally appeared after another block, a small play structure surrounded by patches of white left-over snow.

  A gaggle of women he assumed were nannies surrounded one bench. One or two pushed strollers back and forth with one hand. A few children Joy’s age and younger played on the playground, in careful view of the nannies.

  “Can I play for a little bit, Daddy?” Joy’s energy suddenly returned as she bounced up and down and tugged on his hand.

  “Of course, Bug, that’s why we’re here.”

  She dropped his hand and took off like a rocket. Within minutes, she had found a friend on the playground and was running around playing hide and seek with the girl. Brandon wandered to the other unoccupied park bench and took a seat.

  While he watched Joy play, he slipped his phone out, hoping to see a message from Presley, but there was nothing. He knew he had been awful the day she came to say she wasn’t coming, but he had hoped that she would change her mind and at least come see if she liked New York. But Presley was stubborn. Probably as stubborn as Brandon.

  Before he could stop them, his fingers flew across the keyboard with a mind of their own. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, and I miss you. We made it. We’re staying at the Stratton apartments if you change your mind. Thirtieth floor, number two. I know Joy would love to see you, as would I.” His fingers paused for a moment and then hit the send button. His eyes were glued to the phone as he waited for the little white circle with a check mark to turn blue. It did, but no reply came.

  With a sigh, Brandon leaned over to shove the phone back in his pocket when it rang. “Hello?” He hadn’t dared look at the caller ID. Could he be so lucky as to think about Presley and make her call?

  “Brandon? It’s Stewart.” His heart fell. “I need you to come in tomorrow for a few hours to get familiarized and get the paperwork in order.”

  Brandon glanced over at Joy. “I don’t have a nanny yet, Stewart. Can it wait a few days?”

  “I’m sorry. It can’t. Isn’t there someone who could watch her for a few hours?”

  His mind flicked to Morgan. Could he trust her for a few hours with Joy? She was Joy’s mother, and she had seemed interested in getting to know her, but what if she told Joy? It had taken a long time to get Joy to stop asking about her mother, and he didn’t know what it would do to her five-year old psyche to come face to face with the woman who left her. “Maybe. Let me check, and I’ll call you back later.”

  He ended the call and tucked the phone back in his pocket. Then he shivered. The air here was colder than he expected, and he hadn’t dressed for warmth. Joy hadn’t either, and a few minutes later she returned, cheeks and nose red with cold.

  “Daddy, can we go home? I’m cold.”

  “Of course, Bug.”

  That night, after laying Joy down, he ventured across the hall and knocked on the other door. Morgan swung the door open, a smile lighting her face as she saw him. She had changed out of her white suit into a pair of pink sweats that hugged her slim hips and a cropped tee. Her stomach showed no signs of ever birthing a child. He pulled his eyes from her toned abs to find a bemused look on her face.

  “What can I do for you, Brandon?”

  “Were you serious earlier when you said you wanted to get to know Joy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He took a deep breath. Every fiber in his body screamed this was a bad idea, but he saw no other choice. “I have to go into work for a few hours tomorrow, and I haven’t found a nanny for Joy yet. Would you be available to watch her?”

  Her mouth opened, but before she could answer, he held up his hand. “There are a few things you’d have to promise me. You can’t tell her who you are yet. I will tell her, but I need to figure out the best way, and you have to stay in the apartment.”

  “I can do that. What time do you need me?”

  He had set the meeting time for during Joy’s nap. She didn’t nap long anymore, but she almost always laid down for thirty to forty-five minutes right after lunch. “Twelve-thirty pm. I should only be a few hours, and she should nap at least a little of that.”

  “Don’t worry.” Her hand found his arm again. “I have been around kids before. It will be fine.”

  Her words did nothing to soften the unease developing in his stomach, but he nodded, extricated her hand, and thanked her. As he walked back to his apartment, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d just made a deal with the devil.

  Chapter 22

  Presley’s stomach was a bundle of nerves as she took her seat on the airplane. She had given Trudy a crash course in how to run the shop while she was gone, and though she knew nothing terrible would happen, she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d forgotten to tell Trudy something important.

  Presley ran through the list in her head. She had given her a copy of the key; told her about wrapping up the pastries each night; and even left a few recipes in case she was forced to make more, though Presley doubted she would be gone that long. She had showed Trudy where the price list was and how to use the register.

  “Where are you headed, dearie?” The woman beside her was older with white hair and a kind face.

  “New York.” Presley slid her bag under the seat and buckled her belt. “How about you?”

  “The same. My granddaughter is graduating from design school.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.” Presley’s fingers tapped on her leg, and she reached down to pull a book from her bag. She rarely had time to read anymore, but long flights were always good for that.

  “You seem nervous.” The older woman smiled. “You must be going to see a man.”

  Presley swiveled to her, eyes wide. “How could you possibly know that?”

  She laughed, and the sound was a pleasant throaty chuckle. “I raised four girls. I can always tell when it’s a man. Do you love him?”

  A heat flared across her cheeks. “I do, at least I think I do. I love him when he’s himself, but he took this job, and this side of him – I’m not so sure.” Her hands clenched the book, folding it into a cylindrical shape.

  The woman nodded as if she understood the incoherent babble. Maybe she did after raising four girls. “And you’re going to find out?”

  “I am. He asked me to come and gave me his apartment name, but I didn’t tell him I was coming. I wanted to surprise him and Joy. That’s his daughter.” She had no idea why she was sharing all of this with a complete stranger, but her mouth seemed incapable of shutting.

  “Ah, there’s a child involved,” the woman said, her eyebrow arching. �
��That makes it even harder.” The way she looked at Presley made her wonder if the woman had experience in this area too.

  As the plane took off, she found herself sharing the whole story with the woman. She listened, nodding at all the right places, and interjecting her opinion when Presley paused. Then she told Presley about her daughters, and before she knew it, the plane was landing. Her book remained closed on her lap. Oh well, another time.

  “I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow,” they woman said as they gathered their bags. “I hope everything works out for you.”

  “Me too.”

  As she navigated through the crowded airport, Presley’s heart began to pull tighter. Should she call him and let him know she was in town? She had no idea what his work schedule was; he hadn’t said in the text, but she was afraid to call him. Afraid he would have changed his mind and tell her not to come, and she’d already traveled all this way.

  She weaved through the throng of people over to the transportation desk. A frazzled woman with a pair of black glasses that kept sliding down her petite nose was behind the giant desk.

  As she stood in the line, Presley scanned the surroundings. A board advertising local hotels with a phone in the center caught her eye. Stepping out of the line, she moved closer and realized she could use this phone to call for a van to her hotel. She was glad she had thought to book one ahead of time.

  She picked up the phone and dialed *63 for the Marriott Hotel. It was the closest one to Brandon’s apartment building, and since she was unfamiliar with New York, she didn’t want to tempt getting lost on her way there.

  “Marriott Hotel, how may I help you?”

  “Hello, my name is Presley Hays. I have a reservation for tonight. I just arrived at the airport and was hoping a shuttle could come and get me.”

  “Of course, what kiosk are you at?”

  Kiosk? She scanned the area for a number. “Um, I’m not sure. I’m calling from the phone by baggage claim three.”

  “Is there a number and letter combination on the phone you’re holding?” The woman’s voice was patient. She must deal with clueless people all the time.

  Presley held the phone out and there was indeed a white strip on the back with G7 typed in black letters. “G7. I’m at G7.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll tell the shuttle driver. It’s a black van with the Marriott logo on the side. Please go out and wait by the post with G7 on it. He should be there momentarily.”

  “Thank you.” Presley replaced the phone and grabbed the handle of her wheeled suitcase.

  The air was cold as she exited the airport. She pulled her coat tighter and wished she had put on her gloves and hat before exiting the building.

  Concrete posts lined the area, and she made her way to the one with G7 in big blue letters. Four lanes of traffic lay in front of her, and her mind boggled at the sheer number of cars jockeying for position. If traffic was bad here, she was not sure she wanted to see it on the city streets.

  A few minutes later, the black van pulled up, and she flashed a small wave at the driver. He put the van in park and came around to open the door and help with luggage. He was a squat man with thinning brown hair, and his white top stretched across his belly, the buttons nearly bursting at the seams. A black vest with the Marriott logo covered some of his shirt but had no chance of meeting in the middle.

  Presley climbed into the van and squeezed down between two other passengers. “Hi, thank you,” she said, but received only grunts in response. New York was certainly different from Star Lake.

  The traffic was just as bad as she had imagined, and it took over an hour to get to her destination. While the people beside her were glued to their smart phones, her eyes were focused on the world outside. There were so many lights and even this late in the evening, a sea of people swarmed the sidewalks. How could Brandon want to live here?

  When the van parked in front of the hotel, she waited for the other people to disembark before grabbing her bag and stepping down. “Thank you very much,” she said to the driver, placing a tip in his hand.

  His other hand covered hers. “Don’t lose yourself here.” The seriousness in his brown eyes chilled her soul, but she nodded. He released her hand, handed her the luggage, and climbed back in the driver’s seat leaving Presley standing on the sidewalk as the people parted around her, either ignoring her entirely or shooting glares her direction.

  When the tide slowed, she skirted into the hotel door, which was opened by a tall thin man in a smart burgundy uniform. “Welcome to the Marriott, miss.”

  “Thank you.” The lobby unfolded before her, and her eyes widened. Two white candelabras hung from the ceiling. A fountain issuing crystal blue water took up one corner. A white couch and a few lounging chairs sat around a glass coffee table under one chandelier. Towards the back, a row of computers lined a table. On the right, a gleaming gold and white desk filled most of the real estate. A man and a woman stood behind it, serving the customers in the line.

  Presley joined the queue, her eyes still large as she took in the rest of the opulent surroundings.

  “Can I help you?”

  Startled, she turned to the woman behind the counter. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her skin was flawless except for a dusting of freckles across her nose. The tiny typed tag on her fitted jacket read Kaya.

  “Hi, yes, I’m Presley Hays, and I have a reservation for tonight.”

  She nodded and began tapping away on her keyboard. “Will you be staying with us just one night, Ms. Hays?”

  Presley hesitated. She had no idea how long she would be staying. Her hope was that it would be more than one night, but what if Brandon had changed his mind or what if she hated it here and changed her mind? “I’m not sure.”

  Kaya smiled and ignored the indecision. “That’s fine. We’re not booked right now, so if you decide to stay longer, it should be no problem.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded and finished checking Presley in before printing off a contract sheet, which Presley signed and handed back to her. After processing the payment, Kaya handed over the key card and pointed the way to the elevator.

  Presley’s shoes echoed on the marble flooring, making her feel conspicuous as she made her way to the elevator. She punched the round button to go up, and a moment later, the bell dinged. The cab inside was lavish with dark carpet and a white and gold wallpaper on the walls. Presley admired the artistic design but wondered why they felt the need to wallpaper an elevator. Stepping in, she punched the button for twenty-one, and the door closed.

  When it opened again, she stepped out on the twenty-first floor where the dark carpet continued into the hallway. A gold-plated sign pointed her to the right for room 2103.

  After inserting the key, she pushed open the door to a large hotel room. The queen bed didn’t even fill half of the room. A large mahogany dresser sat across from it and above the dresser hung a big screen TV. Next to the bed was a matching dresser that held an ornate lamp, and against the window, a matching table.

  To her right, a door opened to a large bathroom and to the left was a large closet. After wheeling the suitcase in, she hefted it onto the chair at the table and pulled out her sleepwear and toothbrush. She’d never been able to sleep at night without brushing her teeth. The one time she’d tried, the fuzzy feeling on her teeth kept her awake all night long.

  It was still early, but having not slept well the last few nights, Presley changed and brushed her teeth. Plus, she wanted to make sure she was up early to do some shopping for Brandon and Joy.

  She pulled back the comforter on the bed and climbed in. The sheets were like heaven, and her eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  The sun shining in the window woke Presley the next morning, Yawning, she stretched her stiff back and sore shoulders. The cramped seats of airplanes always wreaked havoc on her the next day.

  She padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on. The warm water erased
the last remnant of sleep from her eyes, and when it was over, she felt refreshed and ready, though still nervous.

  After a quick breakfast, she pushed open the doors and joined the crowd on the sidewalk. The chilly wind nipped at her face, and she slunk further down in her coat, wishing she had brought a scarf. Perhaps she would add that to her list.

  She had a map in her pocket of how to get to Brandon’s apartment building that she had printed at one of the computers in the hotel lobby before embarking, but she wanted to stop and get their Christmas gifts as well. The map had showed a few shops along the route, and Presley was hopeful one would have what she was looking for.

  The toy shop appeared on her right first, and with a quick maneuver, she ducked inside. A gust of warm heater air hit her as the doors closed, and she unzipped her coat. Rows and rows of shelves lined the store with colorful toys and games. She scanned the aisle headings that hung on square signs suspended from the ceiling.

  As she entered the correct aisle, her eyes widened at the sheer number of puzzles. They lined the shelves on either side from floor to about eight feet. A myriad of colors and picture options stared back at her, but she knew exactly what she would love to find. Slowly, she sauntered down the aisle, head swiveling from left to right and top to bottom until her eyes landed on it. It was perfect, and though it was a thousand pieces – bigger than any she had done so far – Presley knew that Joy would love it.

  She grasped it like a cherished doll as she returned to the front check out and joined the long line. Evidently, other people had the same idea. When she reached the front of the queue, she passed the box to the young red-headed man who was running the register.

  “Is there any chance I can get it gift wrapped?”

  He flicked agitated green eyes up at her and sighed. “Yes, I’ll add in the charge, and you can take it to Patrice near the back. She’s wrapping.”

  “Thank you.” Presley handed over her credit card, and after signing, she took the box the direction he had pointed. The line here was shorter, and she was in front of Patrice within five minutes.