Still, Forever, Promise

by D. L. Merritt

  “Will my father’s charities receive any funds?”

  “He established grants for several of his favorite institutions. I’ll provide you with a detailed list.”

  “I’d like that, thank you,” Brianna said.

  “I’ve done extensive research on your family and found that neither of your parents have any living relatives other than you. That makes you the sole heir, and you have been well-provided for.”

  Mr. Caro peered over his glasses at the three pairs of eyes staring at him and cleared his throat. “I’ve calculated the assets left by your parents, and after taxes and fees, you have in your possession the following: sixty-six million dollars in cash; your parents’ house, which is paid for and valued at $8.2 million, along with all the furnishings; their vehicles; the building for your design firm; and your parents’ restaurant, Rossi’s, which is valued at $2.2 million.” Mr. Caro stopped to take a deep breath.

  Charlene gasped.

  Brianna wasn’t surprised by her response. She’d never told Ben or Charlene the amount of money her parents had won in the lottery or the sum they’d acquired through their investments.

  Mr. Caro stood. “Our business will be complete once you sign all the documents. Do you have any questions?”

  Brianna shook her head.

  He handed her the papers. “I need you to sign all the sections marked with a yellow sticky note. I’ll have my secretary send you copies of all the documents for your records.”

  Once Brianna had scrawled her signature where indicated, she handed the papers back to Mr. Caro. He placed them in his briefcase, snapped the lock, and gripped it close to his body as if he carried government secrets.

  “I know this is not the proper time, Miss Rossi, but when you’re ready, I’d like to set up a meeting with you and your accountant to go over your options. There are several ways for you to protect your assets. I’d like to discuss them with you.”

  “Can you give me a month or two? I have a pressing matter that requires my attention.”

  “Of course. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She didn’t hesitate to answer. “No. It’s something I need to do alone.”

  Ben leaned over. “What matter?” he asked.

  “I plan to finish what my father started.” Brianna walked out of the room without another word.

  Chapter 5

  The day was warm and sunny for the beginning of spring—the season of renewal and rebirth. The windows were open to allow the fresh sea breeze to blow through the house, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of jasmine.

  Brianna relaxed at the kitchen table, scanning the morning paper. It seemed since the memorial service, her parent’s death was no longer front-page news. She’d spent the weekend watching the vehicles carrying the news crews and their equipment vanish one by one. Her front yard was empty except for the telltale tire tracks in the grass. She felt confident that today she could venture outside without interference from the media.

  The dream she had of her parents on fire still haunted her. That night, she’d made a promise to her father, and she planned to keep it, as soon as she could figure out what she needed to do. That would mean taking on the unpleasant task of searching through her father’s documents.

  Despite the threat of Monday morning back-to-work traffic, Brianna grabbed her car keys and headed for her parents’ mansion. It took longer than usual to get there thanks to some idiot who ran a red light and hit a minivan. Traffic was backed up for miles.

  As she maneuvered the car up the circular drive, bordered by a well-manicured lawn, she noticed the flowerbeds were bursting with vibrant spring blooms, thanks to her mother’s green thumb. Her mother loved to garden, and Brianna had spent many weekends in this yard, planting and weeding alongside her. Back home, in Fairmont, they’d even had a vegetable garden. Every evening before dinner, they would walk among the squash, tomatoes, peas, and green beans, picking one or two items to include in their dinner preparation. Since they’d moved to Carmel, her mother hadn’t taken the time to plant another one.

  She pulled up to the house and stared at the hand-forged iron front door her father had purchased from a 17th century Scottish castle. As a child, he’d fantasized about being a knight in King Arthur’s court. This was the next best thing.

  She climbed from the car and trudged up the front steps, found the spare key in its usual place under the red flowerpot and unlocked the door.

  Memories came crashing down on her as she stepped inside. The last time she was here, she’d had a huge argument with her father. His words had made her so angry that she’d stormed out of the house, throwing her house key on the table in the foyer. She’d slammed the door behind her, swearing she’d never step foot in her parents’ house again until her father allowed her to make her own choices and he would stop meddling. Now she regretted her decision, for it had altered the course of her life.

  She stood in the entryway, the silence unnerving. A pensive sadness permeated every corner. There was no longer any warmth here. No aroma of fresh baked cookies or her mother’s infectious giggles. She hated being here with the memories, but she had a mission.

  In spite of her uneasiness, she searched through every desk, cabinet, and closet for a clue. What was it she needed to finish? An hour of searching hadn’t gotten her any closer to finding the answer. Discouraged, she flopped down in her father’s favorite chair in the library. She noticed a handful of papers lying on the side table, and quickly glanced through the pages. It was a handwritten list of equipment and supplies to be purchased for the YMCA facility near their hometown of Fairmont. He’d been a volunteer there and spent one weekend every month working with the boys from single-parent homes. He taught them basketball, baseball, soccer, and even helped with their homework. He always came home with a smile and a funny story.

  Was this what he wanted her to finish? Even if it wasn’t, by completing this project, it would help to ease her conscience.

  She found a folder in the desk drawer and placed all the scraps of paper inside. After searching through the desktop computer for a local realtor, she made a phone call. The agent agreed to list her parents’ house, fully furnished. She wanted to keep one or two mementos with sentimental value, but the rest had to go. Under the circumstances, she never wanted to be in this house again.

  She glanced at the time on the computer. It was almost 10:00 a.m. The search had taken longer than anticipated. She’d be late for her meeting at the restaurant unless all the lights were green and the accident had been cleared. She rushed to the car, folder in hand, cursing under her breath as she sped off.

  Brianna used the travel time to rehearse the speech she’d be giving the restaurant employees. Speaking in front of a crowd made her nervous, but this time it couldn’t be avoided. The employees deserved to know their jobs were secure. She never intended to close the restaurant. Rossi’s had been her father’s dream. Even though he would no longer be a part of it, she would make sure his legacy survived. She owed him that much.

  The meeting went well. The employees cheered and high-fived each other, relieved to know they still had jobs. She’d invited the restaurant’s accountant to attend. He agreed to continue handling all the financial matters. He would provide detailed financial statements to the manager and Brianna on a monthly basis to keep them informed.

  The manager and the two assistants promised to provide the same quality of service and food as her father had when he was alive.

  After a brief question and answer session, she shook everyone’s hand and left for her meeting with Charlene at the interior design studio. This one would be more difficult, especially since Charlene didn’t know she was coming.

  The traffic was light and Brianna made it to her office in record time. She hesitated outside the storefront, remembering the first time she’d walked through those double doors over a year ago. Her parents had organized a party at Rossi’s to celebrate the end of her internship with a prestigious design firm
in San Francisco. They’d always supported her dream of being an interior decorator, even allowing her to design and decorate the restaurant and their yacht, The Eve. Her father was proud that they were the first two projects listed on her résumé.

  She had driven to Carmel and met them at the mansion so they could drive to the restaurant together. Her father took an unfamiliar route and stopped outside this building, though at the time it was only a vacant warehouse. Brianna had been curious about why they were there, but her questions had gone unanswered.

  At the entrance, her father pulled a strange set of keys from his pocket, unlocked the double doors, flipped on the light switch, and signaled for her to step inside.

  She surveyed the massive space, and wondered if her father planned to open another restaurant. The building was an empty shell in desperate need of renovating. He surprised her when he handed her the keys, and with a toothy grin said, “This belongs to you, munchkin.”

  “You haven’t called me that since I was seven.”

  “You’ll always be seven to me,” he said, stroking the curve of her face.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve finished your internship, and you’re ready to start your career. I talked to Mr. Spirelli. He had nothing but good things to say about you. He says you’ve been the best intern he’s ever had, and you’ll be an excellent designer.”

  “He made me an offer before I left today. He wants me to stay on as a permanent employee. Did you bribe him to hire me?”

  “Not guilty. You didn’t accept, did you?”

  “I told him I needed to think about it.”

  “Good,” her father said, in his usual authoritative voice.

  “Why did you call him if it wasn’t to convince him to keep me on?”

  “I wanted his opinion.”

  “On what?”

  “On this,” he said with a sweep of his hand, encompassing the empty space. “He used to live in Carmel. I found out his parents had a furniture store in this part of town. I wanted to know if he thought this would be a good place for an interior design business.”

  “Do you think that’s why he offered me a job, because I might be opening up my own business?”

  Her father chuckled. “He wants to avoid having you as his competition. He’s smarter than I thought.”

  “You think I should open up a shop here?”

  “Your mother and I have discussed this for months. You need to be your own boss. Everyone who comes into Rossi’s raves about the way you decorated the place. Your design has made Rossi’s a success.”

  “Dad, it’s the food.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. I have at least one customer every day ask where you work so they can hire you to consult with them. According to Mr. Spirelli, you have a natural ability. Your mother and I agree, so we bought this building for you. We wanted to give you the opportunity to start you career without being under the thumb of someone who lacks your drive or creativity.”

  Brianna walked around the massive shell, imagining what it would look like with walls to separate the space into a room for fabrics and accessories, a conference room to meet with potential clients, offices, and a reception area. Her mind buzzed with ideas full of textures, patterns, and color.

  Her parents had spent weeks looking for the right location with plenty of room and in a good neighborhood so they wouldn’t have to worry about her. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around them, showering them with kisses of gratitude.

  Afterward, they went to Rossi’s to celebrate, but she was too excited to eat. She spent the remainder of the evening strategizing her business plan and bouncing ideas off her father, who was a consummate businessman.

  She couldn’t wait to call Charlene the following morning. She had no doubt she was the perfect person to manage the marketing aspect of the business. It didn’t take much coercion to talk Charlene into quitting her advertising job in San Francisco. They had the perfect partnership. Charlene handled advertising and networking, while Brianna took care of the artistic side. Their firm was now one of the top interior design companies in the area after only one year in business.

  Staring at the closed door wouldn’t accomplish anything. She twisted the handle and entered. Charlene sat at the front desk, only the top of her head visible behind a pile of files.

  Brianna was overcome with guilt as she realized how much work she’d left Charlene to handle by herself for the past two weeks, and she hadn’t complained once. Though Charlene had taken three weeks off for a breast augmentation eight months earlier, and left Brianna alone to handle the workload, but that was different. The business was her responsibility, her vision.

  Charlene spoke without looking up. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”

  Brianna sat in one of the chairs in the reception area, and thumbed through the latest edition of Architectural Digest. “Take your time.”

  Charlene looked over the top of the pile, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t expect you in today. What’s up?”

  “Need some help?”

  “No way. I’ve got a system, and you’d only mess it up. Anyway, you’re not even supposed to be here. You’re still recovering from . . . you know.”

  “I feel much better today.”

  “Benjie and I were worried about you after the way you left the meeting with Mr. Caro. It isn’t like you to be so—”

  “Rude?”

  “Rude wasn’t the word I would’ve used. Maybe . . . abrupt would be better.”

  “No, I was rude, and I’ve already apologized to Mr. Caro. With the stress of the memorial service, and all the news media badgering me, I needed to get away, have time to myself to think, and I needed to sleep. I hadn’t been able to since—”

  “You do look better today, almost like your old self. No more dark circles.”

  “You mean I don’t look like I’m ready for a zombie apocalypse?”

  Charlene nodded with a grin, shifting the pile into three smaller ones, her gold bracelets jangling. She laughed as Brianna eyed her. “Order of importance. Keeps me organized.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve had a secret filing system this whole time, and you never let me in on it.”

  “I know you’re kidding. I bet if we go take a look at your desk right now, all your files are in a neat pile, color-coded by date, alphabet, and location.”

  “Come on, I’m not that picky,” Brianna said.

  Charlene cocked a perfectly penciled eyebrow.

  “Okay, so I like things neat. There’s nothing wrong with being tidy.”

  “I was kidding, Ms. Perfection.” Charlene fixed her violet eyes on Brianna. “You haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  “I was out running errands, and I thought I’d stop by. I’m able to leave the house, now that those irritating newsmongers aren’t following me everywhere I go.”

  “Did you decide what to do about the restaurant? Are you going to close it or keep it open?”

  “Open. I’m sure that’s what my parents would’ve wanted.”

  “Then you’ve made the employees and the citizens of Carmel happy, including me. Rossi’s is my favorite place to eat.”

  Brianna chuckled. “I guess I did, and it felt good seeing all those smiling faces.”

  “What about your parents’ mansion? Have you made plans to move in?”

  “A definite no. I called a real estate agent this morning and put it on the market.”

  “It’s a beautiful house, Bree. Why do you want to sell it?”

  “Too many memories.” Brianna ran her hands down the front of her skirt, smoothing out the folds.

  “I understand. Are you here because you’re ready to come back to work?”

  Brianna paused, deciding the best way to proceed. “I’m not coming back.”

  Seeing the shocked expression on Charlene’s face, Brianna knew her statement needed clarification. “Not until I fulfill my obligation to my parents.”r />
  “I thought for a moment . . . well . . . that since you’ve inherited all that money, you’d decided to close the business.”

  Brianna frowned. “I never even considered it. I love what I do. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t close it. I’d give it to you.”

  “Aww, you’re such a sweetheart. But you know it wouldn’t be the same without you. When do you plan to come back?”

  “I’m not sure. I have to go Fairmont for awhile.”

  Charlene came out from behind the reception area and leaned against the counter, facing Brianna. “Is that what you meant by finishing what your dad started?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t sure how I would do that until this morning when I found a project he was working on before—”

  “And it’s in Fairmont?”

  Brianna went into detail, explaining her plan to meet with the administrator of the YMCA in two days to tour the facility and make arrangements to modernize the building and all the equipment. She also wanted to set up The Daniel Rossi Foundation to give kids that couldn’t afford to go to college the funds they needed.

  “I’ll handle the business while you’re out of town, as long as it doesn’t take too long. We only have four projects in the works, and I can handle any last minute additions,” Charlene said.

  “It might be weeks before I can return.”

  “I don’t understand. Why so long?”

  “I plan to open up a day spa in Fairmont. My mother was born there, and she loved her hometown. She always believed in the mind-body-spirit concept, and a spa would be the perfect way to honor her. I have an appointment with a local real estate agent after my meeting at the YMCA. There were several buildings on the market that the realtor thought would be suitable for a spa. Whatever building I choose will need renovating, and I’ll have to stay in Fairmont to oversee both projects.”