by Lisa Bilbrey
“You want them to lie, Pop?” Derek teased, laughing even harder when his mother and sister turned and glared at him.
“Presents!” Lucia nearly yelled. “Please!”
“I’d … I’d like to open gifts, too,” Claudia added, sliding her hand into her husbands and leading him over to the smaller of sofa, sitting on the edge.
Elle shifted her eyes over to her mother and father, who were standing next to the door looking nervous and scared. “Are you just going to stand there? I don’t think Lucia or Samuel will wait much longer.”
“Um,” Helina murmured, her voice breaking. “Yeah, okay.”
As everyone settled around the living room, and Samuel began to sort the pile of gifts under the tree, the tension was thick and palpable, and Elle wondered if there was any hope that one day, they might be a real family.
Twenty-eight
“No,” Elle grumbled, tapping her nails on her desk. “I need approval today. Tomorrow is too late.”
“I understand that, Ms. Reid, but —”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted. “Mr. Sievers, you promised me an answer on our application a month ago, yet we still don’t have it. We have been more than lenient, but I have permits that are being held up because you can’t get me my approval. Now, I would hate to have to contact your supervisor, but I will.”
“Ms. Reid, please, just give me another week. I assure you that I will have your approval ready by then.”
“If I have to wait another week, that will cause the start of construction to be delayed an additional week, which puts me behind and that will make me cranky. Do you want me to be cranky, Mr. Sievers?”
“No, of course not, and I’m working as fast as I can,” he blabbered.
“You’ve already inspected the property, yes?”
“Yes, the week after Thanksgiving,” Mr. Sievers insisted.
“And you’ve already gotten approval of our plans from the committee, yes?”
“Yes, but —”
“There are no buts, Mr. Sievers. You have until five o’clock to fax our approval letter, or I will be camped in front of your office in the morning with a list of complaints and your supervisor’s number on speed dial. Do we have an understanding?”
Mr. Sievers sighed. “Yes, Ms. Reid.”
“Good.”
Slamming the phone back onto the base, Elle leaned her head against the palms of her hands and rubbed her temples. Today had been a long day already, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
With a sigh, she tilted her head back and shifted her eyes around the empty office. Derek, Callum, and Sadie had all been called away on business, though Elle hadn’t been sure what they were working on, and when she asked, they mumbled something about a meeting and needing to work out the details.
A timid knock on the door pulled her attention to the other side of the office, and she pushed herself away from her desk, walked over, and opened the door.
“Oh, hello,” she muttered, finding herself face-to-face with Gabriel Alvarez. She’d only spoken to him a handful of times over the last four months.
“Hello, Elle,” he said, nodding his head toward her. “Do you have a free moment?”
“Yeah, sure,” she mumbled, taking a step backward and allowing him into her office. She shut the door and gestured for him to take a seat at the conference table.
Placing a manila folder on top, he slid into one of the chairs, and turned to face Elle. “I hope your Christmas was good. Nick told me that your parents came to visit.”
“It was …” Elle trailed off, unsure of how to word it exactly. Two days had passed since they sat in Samuel and Lydia’s living room and opened their gifts, and Elle was still reeling from the idea that her parents had actually come all the way to San Francisco just to apologize. “It was all right. A bit tense and awkward.”
“Yeah, I would imagine so,” he murmured, his fingers toying with the edge of his folder.
“Did you come all the way down here to ask me about Christmas?” Elle asked.
Gabriel smiled. “No, I know you’re busy, and I’ve got things to take care of, as well, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’d like to add a little something to the plans?”
“What?” Elle pressed.
Gabriel didn’t answer her, he simply pushed his folder across the table so that it was in front of her. Elle opened it, her eyes widening by the photographs laying before her. A large playground with tennis courts, two basketball courts, and several sets of playground equipment, swings, a slide, and more, but it was the main attraction that caught her eye. A large stone fountain in the shape of a giant ball, and from the top, dozens of streams of water were shooting up and outward, creating a gorgeous waterfall.
“It’s amazing,” she murmured, shifting her eyes up to Gabriel’s. “And you want this added to the development?”
He nodded. “I was thinking about inside the Northeast section. There’s room for a park, don’t you think?”
“Hmm.” Elle stood up and walked over to the cork board, studying the plans she already knew by heart. “Maybe. It wouldn’t be as big as in the photos, of course. And we might have trouble getting the city to approve any additions to the plans this late in the process. Might delay the start of construction.”
“So it’s not worth it; that’s what you’re saying?” Gabriel asked.
Elle smiled and turned to face him. “No. I’m saying that there might be roadblocks, but nothing I can’t handle. But can I ask you why you suddenly decided you want a park?”
Gabriel pressed his lips together as he stood up and walked over to the window, placing a hand on the glass. “I never had children of my own. Spent too many years focused on my career. Nick is my son in many ways, but I’ve realized that I’ve held him back, forced him to live his life on my terms.” He turned and faced Elle. “I don’t want to be that man, anymore.”
“Then don’t be,” she said.
“Easier said than done, my dear,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was driving around the city yesterday when I found this park. I don’t know why I stopped, why I decided to explore it, but when I saw the fountain, I … I knew I wanted something like it inside Alvarez Park.”
“Why?”
“Because like you see families celebrating Christmas and Halloween together, I see children riding their bikes to the park, playing football in the grass. I see mother’s bringing their little ones to play in the water.”
Elle bit her lip and turned her attention back to the plans. “Okay. I’ll work on adding an amendment to the plans. I think we can begin construction on the southwest portion of the development as scheduled, and by the time we reach the northeast section, we should have everything set.”
“Thank you.” Gabriel rushed around the conference table and clamped her hand in between both of his. “Just thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I guess,” she laughed. “I’ll be in touch with you next week.”
“Perfect,” he said before looking down at his watch and sighing. “I’ve got to run. I’m having lunch with Regina.”
“Give her my love?” Elle asked.
He smiled. “I will. Until next week.”
Gabriel left, closing the door behind him and Elle returned to her desk. However, she’d barely settled in her seat when her phone rang, the button with Greta’s name scribbled beneath it lighting up.
Lifting the phone from the back, she balanced it on her shoulder and selected Greta’s line before saying, “This is Elle.”
“Just who I was looking for. A bouquet of the most incredible roses was just delivered for you, dear. You must have done something right to get something like these.” Greta laughed. “Should I bring them to your office?”
“Um, no, I’ll come get them. I’m on my way out for lunch. I can swing by the house and drop them off.”
“Okay, dearie, see you in a few,” she said, before hanging up.
Elle grabbed her cell phone
, keys, and purse before walking out of the office, making sure to lock the door behind her. Greta hadn’t been lying when she said someone had sent her roses, but she hadn’t expected the enormous bouquet full of blue roses. Elle had always loved blue roses, something she hadn’t shared with many people. A smile pulled at her lips as she walked over to the counter, placing her hands on the outer edge of the flowers and inhaling deeply. They smelled divine.
“Was there a card?” Elle asked, searching through the roses for one, but not finding anything.
“No.” Elle had been expecting Greta to answer her, so when Samuel was the voice she heard, she turned around. He was standing next to the elevator, one hand reached out and holding the doors open while the other was stretched toward her. “Come with me.”
“Where?” she asked.
Samuel smiled. “It’s a surprise. Trust me.”
Though Elle wasn’t sure what was going on, she plucked a single rose from the vase, and walked over to him, stepping into the elevator.
Samuel’s grin grew wider as he followed her. They rode to the lobby in silence, and when the doors slid open once more, he gestured for her to go first. Elle wasn’t sure what was going on, why he’d been given the task of chauffeuring her to their destination, but she trusted him enough not to ask her questions out loud.
Once they were in his car, Samuel reversed out of his parking space, drove through the parking lot, and pulled into traffic.
“When Callum was little, he almost died,” Samuel said, quite out of the blue.
“How?”
He frowned. “We were in a car accident. I was driving, and he was in the backseat. I hadn’t realized that he’d unbuckled his seatbelt because he’d dropped one of his toys. A drunk driver ran a red light, smashed right into us. I broke my arm and cracked a rib, but Callum, he got thrown out of the car. He, um, he broke his leg, several ribs, and had a severe brain injury. They to go in surgically to reduce the pressure inside his head. He was in a coma for four days, six hour, and eighteen minutes.”
“Not that you were counting, though, right?”
Samuel smiled. “My son was hurt. I watched that clock like my life depended on it.”
“But he was okay, right? I mean there weren’t any lasting side-effects.”
“Luckily,” he admitted. “He spent almost a month in the hospital, and his body healed, but watching him lay in that bed, tubes inserted into his tiny body, knowing that he might not make it, just … It was the hardest moment of my life. He almost died, Elle.”
“Is that why you’re so accepting of us?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“A little.” He smiled. “Lydia and I tried for to have a baby for years, but month after month after month, nothing happened. Lydia became angry and bitter, told me she had failed me. She left me.”
“What?” Elle gasped.
“Five years after we were married, she packed her stuff and left, served me with divorce papers. She said she’d held me back, that I deserved better than her. I tried to convince her that I loved her, that regardless if we ever had children, she was it for me, Elle. But she’s a bit stubborn.”
“And you’re not?” she countered.
Samuel pressed his lips together. “Touché.”
“How’d you win her back?” Elle asked.
“For months, she ignored my calls, refused to see me. I thought I’d lost her for good. She was — is — the love of my life, and I thought she was done with me. Then one night, about three in the morning, I got a phone call. My father died. Massive heart attack. He’d been sick for a while, but I was devastated. I climbed in my car and drove to Lydia’s apartment. I banged on her door until she opened it, and then I fell to my knees and cried. I cried for my father, who’d raised me on his own, and I cried for her. I just … I just cried, and she held me. For that brief moment, she loved me again. And, well, one thing kind of led to another, and we ended up sleeping together.
“The next morning, I told her about my father and she helped me arrange his funeral. I hoped that even if she didn’t want to be my wife anymore, that we could at least be friends, you know?”
“I do,” Elle murmured.
“But fate had other ideas,” he laughed. “Six weeks after my father passed away, Lydia showed up at my place in tears. It took a bit, but she finally told that she was pregnant. I, um, I was terrified that she’d tell me the baby wasn’t mine, because I was still in love with her. But she assure me that she hadn’t been with anyone else, that the baby was mine. She said … she said she was sorry for leaving me, that she loved me, but she would understand if I didn’t feel the same.
“I, um, I laughed and scooped her into my arms, and said, ‘Honey, you’ve always been mine.’ I begged her to come home. She did, and eight months later, Callum was born.”
“Was it hard? To forgive her for leaving you, I mean.”
“No,” he murmured. “She let her anger get the best of her. Lydia is … she’s the …” He shook his head. “She’s just made for me. Loving her, accepting her back into my life, that was the easiest decision I ever made.”
Samuel stopped at a red light and looked over at her. “You asked why Lydia and I were able to accept you, Callum, Derek, and Sadie so easily. The truth is we don’t.”
Elle frowned.
“Please, don’t misunderstand me; we love you and Sadie and Derek, but we worry. About you, about Callum, about what’s the going to happen when you’re ready to get married, have babies. We live in a society that isn’t going to look upon the four of you and see what we do.”
“And what is it that you see?” Elle asked.
“Four people who love each other, who need each other. My son is happier now than I’ve ever seen him. He and Derek have always been so close, but I never thought of them together, not until you and Sadie came into their lives. They smile all the time, they laugh, they call Lydia on a somewhat regular basis now,” he teased.
Elle laughed.
“Seriously, Elle, just knowing that Callum is happy is enough for us.”
She bit her lip. “Wish all parents were like that.”
“They’re here, Elle. It’s not enough, but at least they’re here,” he said, softly, turning into a parking lot.
It was then that she realized he’d drive her to the Le souffle de l’Angle. “What are we doing here?”
“Let’s go inside and find out,” he said, parking near the entrance.
Elle followed Samuel inside, stopping in the doorway when she found Derek, Callum, and Sadie standing there. However, before she could say anything to them, Derek and Callum slipped their hands in with hers and beckoned her after Sadie, who was leading them through the gallery. They stopped outside of the room where they’d seen the Matisse Collection the day after Nick and Ivy’s wedding.
Sadie gripped the long, silver handles and looked over her shoulder as she pulled them open. Derek and Callum nudged Elle forward, and when she stepped into the room, she gasped, her hands pulling out of theirs and coming up to her mouth. Nestled in with Matisse’s amazing works were a dozen painting she’d created.
“I don’t …” Elle shook her head, dislodging the tears that had flooded her eyes. “How?”
“Because you deserve this.” Elle spun around, finding Helina and James standing in the doorway. Nick and Ivy were behind her, while Felicia, Carlos, Lydia, Claudia, and Bruce crowded. Derek, Callum, and Sadie were standing just inside the room, watching her with guarded expressions.
“Mom?” Elle whimpered. “You did this?”
Helina nodded.
“Why?” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Do you remember when you were nine and we all went to D.C.? We spent the day the National Mall?”
“Yes.”
“We were standing in the middle of the National Gallery of Art, and you looked up at me, this humongous smile on your face, and you declared right then and there that one day your paintings would be hung there
. Do you remember what I told you?”
“You said …” Elle took a deep breath. “You said only the best get put in there, and that I’d have to work harder.”
“When we got home, you threw yourself into your work, and you kept asking me if you were the best yet. I told you no, that you still needed work. I was wrong, so very wrong.” Helina pulled away from James and walked over to Elle, taking hold of her hands. “I should have supported you, supported your dreams, but I didn’t. I made you feel unwanted, unloved, and I wish I could change that.”
“Me, too,” Elle whimpered.
“I can’t get your work into the National Gallery of Art, but when Callum and Derek told me and Daddy about bringing you here, and how much this place meant to you, well, I just wanted to show you how proud I am of you.”
A sob bubbled to the tip of Elle’s tongue, and she slipped her hands out of her mother’s and looked around, still shocked to see her paintings mixed in with Henri Matisse’s. Of course, compared to his, hers looked like children’s scribbles, but they were still hers. A piece of her hanging on the walls of the Le souffle de l’Angle.
“But how?” she cried. “How’d you do this?”
“She called me.” Elle looked toward the entrance once more, only this time Angel Beaumont was standing there. “I, of course, jumped at the chance to show your work here, Elle.”
“You did?” she asked, sniffing.
Angel nodded. “I like flea markets. You never know what kind of hidden treasure one might find amongst the trash. A few years back, I found this splendid painting of two little girls running through a field of wildflowers. It was … it was amazing and beautiful.” Angel shifted her eyes to Elle. “On the back was the name Elle M. Reid.”
Elle gasped.
“I bought it, took it home, and it hangs on the wall in my office. When your mother called and offered me the chance to see more of your works, I couldn’t say no. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I looked at your paintings.”
“What did you see?” Elle asked.
“Hope,” Angel murmured. “Love, happiness, joy. There was a sense of carefree abandonment in each one, almost as if with every stroke of your brush you were freeing a part of your soul.”