by Mia Sheridan
CHAPTER THREE
Audra
Now . . .
The day went by in the blink of an eye as I worked my tail off to get a quote drawn up for the McMasters and prepared the flowers for a wedding we’d been hired to do the following morning. I was thankful for the preparation that allowed me to lose myself in the hands-on work, my brain quieting as I focused on creating one centerpiece after another, arranging the flowers just so.
I made Jay leave at six thirty, but I stayed, finally shutting off my computer, yawning, and calling it a day at around nine.
Fat, fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky as I drove toward home, but it didn’t feel overly frigid. The snow would likely be gone by morning and Trina Spellman would get a crisp, but lovely wedding day with blue skies and air that smelled like winter—icicles and a far-off tinge of smoke.
I let myself into my dreary, rundown gabled-front home, the house I’d lived in for most of my life, and hung my jacket on the coat tree by the door. After a quick shower, I changed into a worn pair of sweats and stood in front of the microwave as I waited for a frozen pasta meal to heat. Another exciting Friday night. I didn’t mind. Mostly. Or . . . usually. Usually I didn’t mind. I liked the peaceful regularity of my life. I enjoyed the quiet, the expected. Most days I was so exhausted I practically fell into bed anyway, only ever at home to eat and sleep. Even in the winter, I usually had a weekend event that kept me busy, kept me working.
So why did I feel this strange sadness tonight? Why did the quiet of my house seem not as tranquil as it normally did, but . . . lonely? So lonely. I tapped my fork on the counter as I watched my dinner spin on the glass tray in the microwave in front of me. It was that photograph and that story. They’d both dredged up the edges of memories I didn’t want to think about.
When my meal was done, I took it and a glass of wine into the living room and sat on the couch, placing the steaming box of pasta and my wineglass on the coffee table in front of me. I clicked on the television to a local news station and began eating as I watched. I glanced at my dad’s old recliner, picturing him sitting there the way he had once upon a time, his expression glum, his eyes distant, physically present but emotionally unavailable.
Sadness settled in my gut, that old familiar guilt that surrounded me here.
I should move. There were a few good memories in this house, but nothing I liked about it aesthetically, nothing I could really call my own. Everything was old and worn and someone else’s style. The warehouse where I worked spoke of me and what I loved, but I couldn’t exactly live there. Yes, I should sell this place, but it needed so many repairs before I could list it, and right now, I didn’t have the money to make even one of them.
When I was done with my meal and my wine, and had watched a little more news, I brushed my teeth and got in bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I closed my eyes and began drifting to sleep, a howling sound coming from somewhere deep inside of me. I fisted the blankets, my eyes popped open, and I exhaled a sharp gust of breath when I realized it was only the wind. Yes, only the wind.
Wasn’t it?
I dreamed, and in my dream I was underground. Live. Breathe! My heart galloped and my lungs burned as I pushed through the hard soil, the world opening up in a sudden blinding stream of glittering white. Snow. It was snow. Frozen crystals melted as I stretched upward, breaking open the final hard crust of ice. Up, up to where the sun was breaking over the mountains, flooding the world with color. With the sudden freedom, happiness spiraled through me, making me want to shout with glee. And that’s when I turned and saw his face. Leaning over me, he wore that same look of reverence I remembered. But as suddenly as happiness had gripped my spirit, so did misery. “You didn’t protect me,” I said. “Why?”
His expression grew sad as well. “You didn’t let me.”
I woke with a start, my alarm buzzing in my ear, and tears burning the backs of my eyelids. “You didn’t let me.”
**********
Monday morning dawned clear and chilly. I felt better, revived. It was a whole new week, a chance to start fresh, and I had so many exciting things going on. I’d sent the McMaster quote on Saturday after I’d arrived home from delivering the Spellman flowers to the church, and then decorating the reception hall with centerpieces featuring golden dahlias, cream and pale pink garden roses, bright orange ranunculus, cymbidium orchids, and herbs and fern for the greenery. They’d turned out stunning, if I did say so myself, and I’d spent extra time on photographs for my online portfolio.
The McMaster quote had come to a total that made me feel slightly nauseated as I’d never sent such a large figure to anyone. I thought I’d been more than fair in my pricing, and only quoted what they’d asked for, so I’d taken a deep breath and hit send. A reply came back Sunday morning saying everything looked good and a deposit would go in the mail on Monday. I’d been thankful I was alone so no one could hear the excited squeak I hadn’t been able to contain.
And now I was back at work, ready to seize the day, or at least seize some coffee. I put a strong pot on brew and straightened the kitchen as the machine hissed and gurgled, loving when the rich aroma filled the room.
Cup in hand, I walked carefully to my studio, sipping the hot goodness on the way to avoid the liquid I’d filled right up to the brim from sloshing over.
I threw my purse and keys on my desk and sat down, taking another sip of my coffee before logging on to my computer. I did a little bit of work as I finished my first cup, but was basically caught up as I’d worked most of the weekend from home.
“Morning,” Jay said as he came in the door.
I looked up, raising a brow at the bags under his eyes and his slow pace as he walked the dozen or so steps to his desk and sunk into his chair. “Rough weekend?”
“No. This is what an amazing weekend looks like.”
I laughed. “You make it seem so appealing.”
He put his elbow on his desk and rested his cheek on his hand, pushing his face into a contorted expression of exhaustion. “You should have come out dancing with me Saturday. You missed an epic night.”
“I see that.”
Jay let out a long-suffering sigh and raised his head. “Tell me there’s coffee.”
“There is. Grab a travel cup. I need you to come with me to look at flooring for Baptiste’s kitchen. I have to get it installed so he can move his equipment in by the first of the month. I need his rent.”
“Ugh. Okay.”
I laughed. Jay liked to party and come dragging into work on Mondays, but he was wonderful. I knew I could count on him, because he was not only a diligent employee, but a hard worker too. But mostly, he had a heart of gold. His only flaw was that he tried ruthlessly to get me to want more of a social life and I just . . . didn’t. I liked my quiet, predictable life and that was that. I didn’t need more. I didn’t want more.
Jay had moved to Colorado to attend college three and a half years before right around the time I had finally decided I could afford to hire a part-time assistant. He’d been a godsend, working two mornings a week, and one afternoon between his classes so I could not only keep my business running, but manage work on the building as well. But he’d graduate in June with a degree in graphic design, and not only could I not afford to offer him a full-time position—at least not if things were the same for me financially in six months—but he should pursue a job in his field of study. I could hire another part-time assistant, I supposed, but probably no one capable of creating splashy brochures, postcards, and all the graphics for my website. No one I felt so comfortable with. I hardly wanted to think about it. Not only was I going to miss him on a professional and personal level, but I hated change. Change always unsettled me. No wonder my mind was drifting all over the place recently.
Jay came in with a travel mug, and I took my jacket from the back of my chair and started to put it on.
“Oh,” Jay said, grabbing a pile of what looked like mail on the edge of his desk, “this is
from Friday. It was delivered while we were putting together the Spellman pieces and I forgot to give it to you before I left.”
“Thanks. I’ll look through it when I get back.” I took it from him and turned to toss it on my desk when the return address on the top caught my eye. I frowned. Rutherford, Dunning, and Ross, Attorneys at Law. My heart leapt and my blood chilled in my veins. I knew that law firm. I was personally acquainted with those lawyers. Unfortunately.
With shaking hands, I tossed the rest of the mail on my desk and tore open the envelope. What in the world could this be?
“You okay, Audra?” I heard Jay’s voice, but didn’t respond. Couldn’t. I unfolded the single page and began reading.
The air whooshed from my lungs and my skin broke out in a cold sweat. What? My eyes began scanning the lines more quickly, reading the legal jargon as fast as possible while trying to grasp how in the hell this could be happening.
“Audra?” Jay’s voice, closer now. “You’re as white as a sheet. What’s wrong?”
I finally glanced at him, opening my mouth once and then closing it, shaking my head as if I might be in a dream—a nightmare—and a good head shake would wake me up. “They say they’re taking the building from me.”
“They? Who’s they?”
I shook my head again, grabbing hold of the side of my desk and leaning against it, the paper floating out of my hands to land on the floor. My legs felt weak. No, no, there was a mistake. Of course there was. This was impossible. I turned to Jay, my butt still resting on the solid wood, but forcing a deep breath through my body. Jay had picked up the piece of paper and was reading through it. He paused, frowning as he glanced at me. “Who’s Luella Townsend?”
“She’s an old bitch with too much money and a cold, black heart.”
“Well damn. That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear in all the time I’ve known you.”
“She deserves it.”
He looked back at the letter for a moment. “I’d say so.” He paused, reading through a few more lines. “And who’s Dane Townsend?”
An exhale left my lungs, causing my shoulders to droop. My heart clenched and I paused, biting at my lip before finally answering, “He’s my ex-husband.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Audra
Crosswinds Golf and Country Club was the oldest and most prestigious club in all of Colorado. Of course, Luella Townsend wouldn’t have frequented it if it wasn’t. I couldn’t be certain she’d be there for lunch, but it was Monday, and if she was still the creature of habit she’d been seven years ago, I’d find her sitting with the other snobby, old biddies at the table by the window, their noses in the air as they ate finger sandwiches and petit fours and gossiped about all the people unworthy of their company. Like me.
“May I help you, miss?” An older gentleman in a pale gray suit stopped me by stepping slightly into my path as if he’d appeared out of thin air.
“No, thank you, I’m headed to the dining room.”
His eyes made a quick sweep of my outfit—dark jeans and a turquoise sweater—and he somehow managed to look displeased without altering his expression one iota. I wondered how one went about mastering that talent. You must have to spend quite a few hours with a pole shoved up your ass. His had obviously been lodged there for decades. I cringed internally at the mean-spirited thought. I felt nervous and out of sorts, but I didn’t need to let Luella Townsend bring out the worst in me. The man made a soft sniffing sound. “I’m sorry, miss, there’s a dress code in the dining room.”
I managed a smile, but it was forced and I hoped it didn’t look as tight as it felt. “I know, I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency.”
“What sort of emergency?”
“I’m really not at liberty to give the details. It’s of a personal nature.”
He sniffed softly. “I see—”
“Details Mrs. Townsend wouldn’t want discussed. I’m sure you know what a private woman she is.”
The man stood straighter, and I didn’t think I missed the flash of nervousness in his eyes. Ah yes, he knew Luella too. The quick glance backward toward the dining room gave me even more reason to believe she was right where I thought she’d be. “Mrs. Townsend.”
I nodded. “Luella Townsend. She’ll be very displeased if she finds out I was here to tell her about the . . . emergency and was turned away,” I lied.
His lips stretched into the semblance of a smile, but his eyes remained aloof. “Of course.” He hesitated. “I’ll advise Mrs. Townsend that you’re here.”
Damn. But it seemed that was as far as I was going to get. I just prayed she wouldn’t send me away. She’d know why I was here. “Thank you.”
“Your name?”
“Audra Kelley.” He paused as if my name might be familiar. I had been to this club, many years before, but had never met this man. If he knew who I was, I had no idea how. He inclined his head once and turned toward the dining room.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest as I waited in the empty entranceway for the host to return. I could hear the distant hum of conversation and the soft pings and clatters of silverware and dishes. Classical music drifted from unseen speakers, and I breathed in the scent of this place: wood polish and dried flowers. The large display of blooms on the table to my right appeared fresh, so I wasn’t sure why they smelled as if they’d been pressed, but they did. Maybe that’s what this place did to all living things—sucked out their life essence and left them brittle and hollow.
“Stop being so dramatic, Audra,” I muttered, but the feeling lingered. I felt brittle and hollow, the same way this place had always made me feel.
Soft footsteps on the carpet made my breath catch. Luella was walking toward me, looking older than I remembered, though she was still a striking woman. She was wearing something beige and drapey, designer no doubt, though my brain was buzzing and I couldn’t lower my eyes from her face to focus on any details. Her white-blonde hair was swept back in a chignon, and the expression on her meticulously made-up face looked just as icy as I remembered it. “Audra,” she said, making my name sound like a contagious disease. I couldn’t help it, I shrunk under her frosty gaze, feeling like a seventeen-year-old girl in a secondhand dress.
But you’re not that girl anymore. You’re a woman with your own life and your own business. The thought of my business gave me a small surge of strength, and I took a deep breath, straightening my spine. “Mrs. Townsend, thank you for interrupting your lunch to see me.”
She glanced around and then began walking toward a door a few steps down the hall. I followed, as I assumed was expected. She led me through the doorway into a sitting area, elegant in shades of cream and plum, featuring lots of dark wood and shiny fabrics.
Luella cleared her throat as she turned toward me. She didn’t sit and so neither did I. She played idly with the rings on her fingers. “I assume there’s no emergency.”
“Actually, the letter I received this morning has caused an emergency. There’s obviously some sort of mistake and I’m here to clear it up.”
Luella put her hand idly on the love seat next to her, running it over the rich upholstery. “The only mistake is that you’ve been occupying that building as long as you have. The company has need of it now, so you’ll have to vacate the premises.”
“Vacate the premises? I run my business from that building. I rent out space in that building. And what’s more, I own that building.”
“You signed a prenuptial agreement, dear. An iron-clad prenuptial agreement. I made sure of it myself. That building was purchased by Dane and Dane alone. You weren’t entitled to anything when you left him—not a single penny.”
My chest hollowed out and my heart beat loudly in my ears. When you left him. “Yes, I know I signed a prenuptial agreement. I remember well. But Dane bought that building specifically for my use and gifted it to me. We put it in my name, and he let me keep it when we . . . separated.”
She waved her hand in the air. “H
e did no such thing. If you made assumptions, it’s your own fault.”
I felt sick, shaky, but there was nothing for me to lean against. “You can’t just take my building from me.”
She sighed. “It was never yours to begin with.”
“And Dane agrees with this? He’s okay with what you’re trying to do?” My voice sounded small, faraway, as if it were coming from under water. I wanted to deny the trickle of grief churning in my chest, but I couldn’t. Oh God, I could handle anger, sadness, but what was I supposed to do when the mention of his name still felt like a kind of drowning?
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.
She waved her hand again. “Of course. He leaves the management of the estate to me. Someday he’ll have children, and he likes to know their legacy will be well established. Dane never was much for finances, despite his other good qualities . . .”
Someday he’ll have children. The words pummeled me, causing me to drift away in my own mind as she babbled on about Dane. So he hadn’t had children. I hated the fact that a breeze of relief blew over my skin at the news. The truth was, I’d made a concerted effort to avoid learning anything about Dane’s life. I figured he was still running his family’s business at the headquarters in California, but other than that, I had no information whatsoever. I’d made it a point not to.
Dane. No, he couldn’t possibly know what Luella was doing to me. Could he? Was it possible he hated me that much? Or . . . that he was so indifferent he couldn’t even be bothered lifting a finger to exercise some human decency? To tell Luella this was wrong? It didn’t sound like the Dane I’d once known. My chest constricted even further. I struggled to draw in air. The truth was, I had no idea who Dane Townsend was now. I couldn’t even begin to guess what his role in this might be.
“Why do you want the building?” I choked. “Why now?”