by Fifi Flowers
“Plenty of space to build you a large walk-in as the master bedroom is an open loft space, an entire floor all its own. You can design it and I will make it functional.”
“Long way for the gym and then there’s Singer…” She was grasping at straws.
“You said Singer has been blowing you off since we got back and there is an area on the second floor close to our workspace. We could line up cardio machines facing out toward the canals and there is a rooftop stationary lap pool hot tub.”
“Oh my God! Can the roof support it?” I had to laugh.
“The house is built like a mini-skyscraper, all steel reinforced.”
“The house that Jack’s father built?”
“Yes, a spec house he designed with artists in mind. No real bites, so I talked him into letting me live in it until it sold. I grew attached to it and with the success of our designer shoe company, I bought it at cost from him. Killer deal.”
“Well, Singer has been skipping out on me in favor of sleeping in a lot with a certain someone I know nothing about… hmmm. What else do you have to sell me on the house and cohabitation arrangements?” I could see she was coming around.
“There is an elevator to all four levels. There are two fireplaces; main floor and master suite. Doors open to make each floor a covered patio feel. One kitchen next to a dining area, living room, and full outside deck… not really a yard for kids… another kitchen on the roof for cooking and a fridge too… and…”
“Kids?” She had never mentioned wanting them, but I could see her with them.
“Yes, there are two bedrooms on the second floor. They’ll have to fight over one bathroom.” Mitzi made hmmm sounds. “Not to worry, when they’re babies they can stay in our room until they’re toddlers and then we will put security systems in their bedrooms to monitor their sounds and movements. Of course when they are teens we will remove those…”
“We should probably keep cameras outside their rooms so we know if they try to sneak out in the night to meet boyfriends or girlfriends. But… I would like to wait a bit and I would like to be married before starting a family… I know totally old fashion but…”
“Three years. I want to make up for the last three we lost with miscommunication and signals. Although, I wouldn’t really change much because we got to know each other as good friends and partners and I think we can make it as a couple… a married couple.”
“Are you asking me to marry you? Or are we contemplating it? Talking out the plan, construction, and design of meshing together?”
“I want you to marry me. I know you don’t want my last name and that is fine but you know when the kids start school, the teachers will be calling you Mrs. Fritzi.” I couldn’t help but grin. “The kids are taking my last name, not an option, you can select their first names so they don’t conflict.”
“Okay.”
“Okay… as in yes? Do I need to get down on my knees to ask? There is no ring because I see you designing it with Lark’s friend Tomasina.”
“No, you won’t let me get down on my knees in front of you… so, no… and yes, I will marry you. Now, let go of my feet so I can at least launch myself into your arms.”
My hands lifted, and I found two long legs on either side of me, arms around my neck, and lips moving toward mine. I wasted no time at all, wrapping one arm around her and the other hand in her hair, moving her head for a better angle. I love her mouth on mine, her lips agape, and the easy access granted to my tongue eager to dance with hers. When we finally came up for air, I remembered her constant mention of wanting to try the techniques I had told her about while on our trip.
“About you on your knees, I think we can work that into our schedule since we will be working from home.” She grinned, nodding her head.
“I missed you… us… I love you… I was so afraid of losing you.”
“Never. I would miss your feet too much… and you. I love you, Mitzi… Oh, and a couple more things while I have you trapped on my lap with your dress up around your waist, begging for so much more.”
“Yes, we could christen the sofa now or we could wait until it is in our new work environment.”
“Not sure I can wait.”
“Well, we have two drafting tables we’re getting rid of… shame to let them go to waste before we toss them out or sell them to another designer. We may have to sanitize them before the sale.” Her wrinkled nose made me laugh.
“Okay, naughty designer, let me spill my idea.”
“I’m all ears, shoot.”
“So I was thinking of planning another trip… say Italy for a honeymoon… after you meet the family, of course, and they approve of you… do you have any Italian blood in your family… that could be helpful.”
“We could get one of those tests. You never know they say there are traces of everything in our genes. When did you have in mind? The trip, I mean.” Her face fell a little and I rushed to tell her more.
“Well, a certain elderly gentleman with eyes the same color as yours said he would be back home in Tuscany, not far from my family, next summer and well… I agreed with him.”
“You found my grandfather? He lives in Italy?”
“Yes. That guy snooping around the Happy Endings Resort was very helpful and he put me in contact with someone that was able to locate him. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“Oh, my, God, Jack! You are the best and you are officially in charge of massaging my feet and planning all of our trips till death us do part. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“I love you more than you will ever know, Mitzi Fritzi… hmmm, I think I like it!”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Frank Fashion Friday…
On a bright Saturday afternoon, Mitzi Warren and Jack Fritzi—who met at my Malibu beach shack in the midst of Blink-182 singing, “Wooo! Wooo! I want to see some naked duuudes… that’s why I built this poool…” on a loop—tied the knot outdoors in front of family and friends at the Marinelli Villa situated on a hilltop in a picturesque Tuscan valley. Already partners in their Fritzi Mitzi Designer Shoe Company, the two decided to take their partnership to a whole new level which will not include high heels or closed-in fancy men’s shoes. Nor were either of those worn during the ceremony where the bride opted for sexy, strappy flat, gold sandals under a stunning swing organza sleeveless dress with a fitted bodice and full skirt, the overall pattern looked like an elegant, large lattice print perfect for the garden. The bride escorted by her grandfather, carried a simple bouquet of pale yellow roses, and walked over the top of bright yellow rose petals down an aisle lined with speared pineapples decorated with a single white gardenia to her waiting groom. The man-of-the-hour smiling brightly sported a pair of leather F & M flip-flops along with a button-down pointed collar, cotton blend shirt dotted with mother-of-pearl buttons, the straight-cut hem was worn perfectly over casual khaki trousers. Both bride and groom chose to wear their hair down; no fancy up do for the bride and the groom stood proudly at the floral filled arch wearing his usual, charming moppy surfer hair.
The ceremony was performed all in Italian and at one point the groom stopped the wedding and announced to the guests in Italian as well, leaving one Mitzi a very confused bride, that contrary to what the priest was saying about the union of an Italian and non-Italian, it was not true. According to recent deoxyribonucleic acid testing, Mitzi and Jack’s father both had a low percentage, but nonetheless, of Italian in their blood. To this announcement the crowd went wild with cheers and also included a very big kiss shared by the groom’s parents. The bewildered bride was quickly rejoined by her groom who tossed her bouquet to his mother so that he could take her hands into his and kiss her lips tenderly. The guests cheered and sighed while the priest waved his finger in a no-no fashion, indicating that no kiss was to be shared yet. Continuing on, the entire ceremony was a mumble of Italian words about worship, commitment, loyalty, and the fear of God, followed by the couple exchan
ging rings; a sterling silver tribal wave band for the groom and a sparkling row of freely set diamonds encircling the entire band for the bride.
Following the groom taking the bride into his arms for a passionate kiss to seal the deal once the priest pronounced them husband and wife, a big celebration on the grounds of the villa ensued. Italian music set the scene and provided drunk-on-wine guests to flit about stylishly and not-so, while giving the couple a song to claim their own as they gazed into each other’s eyes for all to see. The usual Italian feast of several courses was served with everyone sitting at a large block C-shaped arrangement of tables allowing everyone a good view of the united couple. After the belly-filling meal, favorite Italian pastries circulated and the bride was provided with her choice of traditional white wedding cake with a layer of Bavarian-style cream, wrapped in white fondant—no fruit fillings or liqueur soaked cake beneath.
Ducking out when the time was right, the newlyweds sped off with Mitzi holding on for dear life while Jack raced a vintage red Alfa Romeo for the Amalfi Coast where they spent one week of their honeymoon, while the second week was spent back in America at The Happy Endings—not a nudist campground—Resort in South Carolina where the couple had finally declared their love for each other.
In lieu of gifts, please send well wishes for a long and happy marriage.
THE END
Get ready to learn more about Frank Fashion and the Fashionista Forward blog in My Heart Series coming Summer 2017. I hope you will also check out all of the Happy Endings Resort Novellas—ones before mine and after mine.
Now here’s a sneak peek at Happy Endings Resort Book 21!
Sneak Peek at Book 21 Happy Endings Resort
Haunted Endings
By: Genevieve Scholl
People have gone missing from Happy Endings Resort in South Carolina. Each of the victims have vanished from the same cabin. When the local police do nothing to find them, FBI Agent Jake Kraymer comes to investigate … by staying in the exact cabin the victims have disappeared from. With the help of his neighbor in the next cabin, secrets are revealed and the supernatural is explored. But time is ticking, and the missing people must be found before someone else follows in their footsteps.
Copyright © 2017 Genevieve Scholl
Prologue
The sound was continuous; a repetitious thump against the hardwood floors of the cabin. But no matter how much Freya Winters looked, she could not find the source of the incessant sound. It was an irritant, each hollow thump driving her closer to a voluntary straight jacket. She’d complained to the owner of the Happy Endings Resort several times, but each time Rory sent the muscle—otherwise known as the resident handyman, Brice—to check the place, he found nothing that could be causing the noise. Plumbing worked well, electricity was hot and running through the wires, and there were no cracks that were letting the wind inside. So what the hell was going on?
To hear everyone else at the resort explain it, nothing was going on … which Freya knew meant the others thought she was crazy. But, every night, without fail, since she’d arrived a week ago, she was woken by the same obnoxious thumping. And it only ever happened at night when everyone was asleep. At least, everyone was supposed to be, but Freya hadn’t slept more than two hours each night. Because of that damn sound!
“What the hell is that?” she questioned the air for the seventh time that week. But, like always, no answer came. Just more thumping. “That’s it!” she screamed.
Freya couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t care that she had paid up for another whole week. She had to get the hell out of Endings, South Carolina.
Chapter One
The missing girl was priority, and as Agent Jake Kraymer pondered over the case file while sitting in a booth at High Bar in Endings, South Carolina, he was determined to find Freya Winters. The problem was: Freya was the third person to go missing from the Happy Endings Resort, and there was no evidence to give law enforcement a lead. The locals figured the missing people disappeared voluntarily, but Jake knew better. One missing person made it possible, two could be a coincidence—though he doubted it—but three couldn’t be ignored. Those people hadn’t left of their own volition. Jake would bet his career that they were abducted, and the first step to finding them was to interview the locals.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thanks,” he replied without looking up from the file.
“Are you investigating the missing guests?” she asked.
Jake stopped reading the report on the first victim and looked up in to the eyes of the woman. “Yes; I am. I’m Agent Kraymer.”
“Stixx,” she offered as she shook his outstretched hand. “Mind?” she asked, motioning to the opposite side of the booth. He nodded his head to give permission, though, technically, she didn’t need it because she worked there and he was just a guest. “Thanks.” She nervously folded her hands, and Jake could tell she wanted to say something so he stayed quiet and waited.
But when she said nothing, Jake pushed the folder aside and looked her in the eye. “Are you alright?”
Stixx nodded and sighed. “Please find Freya.”
“You knew her?”
She shrugged. “Not well. She came in for a drink every night she was here, and she was a very sweet girl.”
“You’re the first person I’ve talked to who seems to have known her … more than the fact that she was a guest. Anything you can tell me that might help me find her?”
“I don’t know. She was a quiet person, and I only ever saw her at night; she’d come in when the place was practically dead.”
Jake sat back. That was odd. Why would a woman go to a bar, late at night, when barely anyone else was awake?
“Why was she here?” he asked.
“She was a writer, and she needed the quiet of a cabin to finish her latest novel. Her publisher was on her ass for being so late with the manuscript.”
“What was she writing about?”
“She never shared, but I know it was based on a true story.”
He made a mental note to find out who her publisher was and see if they would reveal the topic of Freya’s book. Writers often got in trouble for the plotlines of their books. Especially ones based on true stories.
“Thank you,” he told Stixx then handed her a twenty-dollar bill, “and thanks for the drinks.”
Stixx stood when Jake did, and nodded. “You’re welcome. Find Freya, and you can have as many drinks as you want, free of charge.”
Jake smiled and thanked her again before leaving the bar and heading to the resort owner’s home. Stixx’s offer was kind, but he’d never accept it. If … when he found Freya and the others, that would be reward enough. Besides, he didn’t believe in ‘stiffing’ businesses and always paid.
“Have a seat,” Rory offered when they’d reached an old-fashioned sitting room.
“Thank you,” he said as he sat. “I understand you were the one to request the FBI’s help.”
She nodded. “The local police aren’t doing enough. Not only is my business on the line here, but so are the lives of those people. And the permanent residents here, as well. Those people were taken from my property, Agent Kraymer, and I will accept nothing less than the best. Are you the best, Agent Kraymer?”
Not much affected Jake, but something about Rory made him shift in his seat. But, if there was one thing he was sure of, it was his ability to do his job. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered Rory.
She nodded again. “Good. Now, how can I help?”
After going over the details, Jake asked her to show him the cabin where each of the victims had vanished. It was a regular cabin, identical to the rest, and seemed untouched. Just like the ‘crime scene’ photographs, no signs of foul play were present. But all the personal belongings of the missing guests had been left behind. Even people who voluntarily disappeared took their things with them. So why hadn’t Freya Winters taken a single thing?
Regardless of what anyo
ne else believed, there was only one explanation. Someone or something had taken those people.
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