Family had seemed like something that she could set aside and wait to happen. But her family had never put her aside. Her guilt pushed against her emotional limit, and she felt the urge to cry.
After one of those sentimental waves hit with an unexpected impact, Charisse had to excuse herself from the table. She had to pull herself together in the bathroom. The tears had been reigned in through the weekend and now couldn’t be controlled. She stared at her reflection.
“Get it together,” she whispered between clenched teeth. She kept wiping the tears that spilled, which was an open invitation for more to follow.
A knock on the door startled her. She turned on the faucet to drown out the sound of her blowing her nose. “One sec.”
“Are you okay, honey?” her mother asked in a soft voice.
“Yeah.” Charisse splashed her face with cold water. She tried to blink the redness out of her eyes. Even fanning her face didn’t help.
Finally she opened the door, keeping her gaze down. Her mother was nowhere in sight. Good. Her emotional breakdown could remain out of sight, tucked away and hopefully buried.
“Charisse, could you come in a second?”
“Mom?” Charisse pushed open the door that was once her old bedroom door. Beyond the doorway, she might as well have stepped into another world.
The room that was once mint-green now was a soft honeydew color. Not much furniture was in the sizable room. The wallpaper and random celebrity posters had been replaced with framed paintings and sketches.
Her mother watched her as she examined each framed picture. The paintings varied from vast landscapes to bowls of colorful fruit. A few featured a playground with young children and silhouettes of individual people. The sketches were in pencil, but the paints were oil-based with vivid color. It wasn’t until she reached the last frame that she leaned in to read the signature.
“Mom, this is you?” Charisse turned to face her mother.
Her mother nodded. She looked as if she was going to burst with excitement.
Charisse was truly amazed. She had to look at her mother because what she saw in this room exposed a woman she didn’t know. Her mother wore a smock with paint spattered all over it. Off to the side was her easel with a work in progress.
“When did you do all of this?” Charisse asked.
“I started over a year ago. Had to take a few classes to get my head back in the game. Didn’t take long, though. These are all for practice. I’m trying to find the right thing.”
Charisse walked around the room again, surveying all the works. She shook her head. “This stuff is good.”
“Thanks, daughter, but a reviewer may not feel that way.”
Charisse shrugged. “Who cares what some snobby wannabe artist thinks?”
Her mother laughed heartily. She walked over to her sketch pad and took a seat.
Charisse took a seat opposite her on a bar stool. Her mother flipped over to a clean page on the easel. Her hand flew across the page, and only the sounds of the pencil against the page could be heard.
“Stop making that face,” her mother admonished. “You’re messing up your jawline.”
“I don’t want a portrait,” Charisse replied, although she wanted to see her mother’s drawing. “Mom, is painting what you’re doing now?”
“I’m switching gears. I’m not needed as much in one part of my life. Now I can feel free to pick up my aspirations.”
“Seems like the woman always has to put her life aside.”
“Is that what you believe?” Her mom’s brow furrowed into deep creases.
“It’s what I saw all my life.” Charisse tried to remove any signs of complaint from her statement.
“Then child, you only saw what you wanted to see.” Her mother shifted her position from behind the easel. She set down the pencil. Clearly, she wasn’t pleased.
“Uh-oh, I feel a lecture coming on.” Charisse slid off the bar stool. She wanted to leave but knew better than to walk out on her mother’s scolding.
“I’m not going to tell you what you know I’ll say. Instead, I’m going to let you come to your decision. You’re smart, a bit of a control freak, but you have a good heart.”
Charisse felt that her heart was still up for debate. So far, it had taken her on a giddy ride. If she followed its wish, the outcome might turn her world upside down. She didn’t want to ever feel regret if things turned sour.
“Stop being intense. Live your life.”
Charisse stared at her mom. “I am living my life. That’s the problem.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. Great that you made rules. But it’s okay to open the gate and walk through unfettered.”
“Sounds like your drawings bring out the poet in you.”
“I do nurture my artistic side. Helps with my painting.”
“My PR business is what I’m nurturing.”
“You’re not one-dimensional.” Her mom’s fist hit her open palm with emphasis. “You can’t starve one part of you. Eventually it does affect the other part of your life.”
“I think if a partner can’t understand what is important, then they don’t belong in your life.”
“You paint quite an idealistic picture. You leave no room for compromise. And you don’t bring the right balance of color to your life.”
Charisse tried to shake off her mother’s judgmental remarks. She didn’t want to argue anymore. Time to put things into motion so that she didn’t get off the path of her dream.
Chapter 15
Charisse sat on the corporate jet still feeling disoriented. Her seat belt was securely fastened around her waist. She’d said several prayers. Yet her hands gripped Brent’s arms every time the plane hit an air pocket.
“I’ve got one of the best pilots. Don’t worry.” Brent looked relaxed and sexy in casual clothes.
“Why did I let you talk me into this? I’m pretty busy.” Charisse couldn’t get over Brent’s penchant for surprising her.
“I wanted to give you a ride in my jet. We’ve done the town car often enough. And I want to take you on a special lunch date.”
“It had better be good food.”
“I have no doubt that you’ll be impressed.”
Impressed was an understatement. She squirmed in the plush leather seat. “Why do we have to eat in Tennessee?”
“You’ll see.” Brent looked at his watch. “We’ll land in about thirty minutes.”
Charisse released his arm. She wanted to take a few minutes to spruce up her face. Since they were arriving in Tennessee in style, she had to look decent.
The restroom on the plane was only slightly bigger than the one on a commercial airline. Charisse made do with the small space as she retouched her makeup. She looked at her reflection and hoped that her red dress with black trimming was classy enough for whatever they would be doing.
Before long, the plane landed at the Knoxville Downtown Island Home Airport. Charisse hopped off the plane, happy to touch solid ground.
“Welcome to Knoxville, Ms. Sanford, Mr. Thatcher.”
“Randy, good to see you.”
Charisse followed Brent’s lead and shook the young man’s hand. Now she was really curious.
They walked away from the plane as a black limo appeared. Charisse looked at Brent, who grinned. She couldn’t see his eyes because of his dark, black-framed glasses. As soon as the limo door closed, she turned toward him.
“What is going on?”
“Are you familiar with car racing?”
She nodded.
“We’re on our way to meet Marc Newton.”
“The race car driver?” She didn’t know a thing about the sport, but Marc Newton was one of the few
African-American drivers making headway in the ranks. Plus he was a definite cutie.
“You can erase that smile. I’m not here for you to go all goo-goo over him. This is a little bit of work mixed in with the pleasure of your company.”
“Listening,” Charisse quipped. Wariness crept into her thoughts.
“The Newton team wants to shift their PR campaign. They are shopping around.”
“And…” Charisse’s pulse sped up.
“I told him about your services. We’re skipping over his management people and talking directly with him.”
“How did you manage that one?”
“I met him at a charity event. He is a great guy. We’ve become friends over the years. After we’re done talking, we can head out for lunch.”
Charisse needed a moment to digest the information. Having a client at that celebrity caliber would give her company a boost that no advertisement could do.
“What’s the matter?” Brent asked. “No need to worry.”
“I don’t have the capacity to deal with such a company’s needs.” Charisse hated having to admit such a weakness.
Brent took her hand between his. Although he smiled at her, Charisse sensed that something crucial was about to be said.
“While you listen to Marc and what he needs, don’t worry about how you will manage this. I have a proposal.”
“Spill.”
“Well, I was going to wait until you’d talked to Marc.”
“Nope. You’re going to tell me everything, or else I’m not meeting Newton.” She said the statement with as much strength as she could muster. Speaking with such bravado would only work when the famous race car driver wasn’t in front of her. Her excitement would be uncontainable if she did land the deal.
“He’s got a huge campaign in mind—one that would require major capital and labor.”
Charisse tried to beat back the panic.
“I can help. My offer is to merge our businesses.” He turned to look out the window. “I really wanted to wait until you’d talked to Marc.”
Charisse felt like the world had just stopped. Blood rushed through her body at an accelerated pace. Heat suffused her face as her emotions peaked.
“Marc’s consideration of your company is separate from my offer. But whether it’s Marc’s business or some other company, I only see a win-win situation if we merge efforts. I would be offering you the ability to go after bigger clients.”
Charisse nodded. She still didn’t know what to say. In the meantime, her head kept rocking like a bobblehead doll.
The ride was spectacularly short. When she emerged from the limo, several people greeted them. Their smiles were too wide, teeth too bright. Her hand was pumped in hearty handshakes. Their voices intermingled and sounded like gibberish. Her brain fought to make sense of it all, needing more time to analyze.
“Don’t look so petrified,” Brent whispered in her ear. His hand against her back did comfort her.
Charisse didn’t say much as she took in her surroundings. She entered Newton’s management office. The one-story, crisp white building had the outward appearance of a warehouse. Once she entered the doors, the cool interior was a beehive of activity.
She greeted more of the staff. Many knew Brent, who lagged behind to catch up with them. Charisse continued following one of the employees into a conference room.
For one second, she wanted to be just a fan. Marc Newton stood in the living flesh. The man had a slim athletic build and a drop-dead gorgeous face. He could certainly have a dual career as a model for fitness gear. Her mind was already running through the possibilities.
Charisse listened carefully to what Marc needed. Endorsements were already coming in. But he also wanted more PR for a few charity events, which surprised her.
“I’m interested in cystic fibrosis and childhood diabetes.”
“Is there a personal connection?”
“Yes. My niece has cystic fibrosis and a friend’s son has diabetes. I want to use my celebrity status to push two massive fundraisers.”
“Sounds like you also need an event planner.” Charisse aimed to find out everything that Marc would need.
Brent entered the room. The reunion of the two friends halted further discussion for several minutes.
“What do you think of Charisse?” Brent looked at her with a big grin.
“We’re just getting started. I have a couple of charity jobs that I would want her to promote. Also, this is the time to starting thinking of what endorsements I should have my name attached to.”
“Marc, since I only learned of this meeting within the last hour, I will need time to let everything sink in. What’s your time frame for a response?”
“I’ll give you all the time you need. The charity events have to be done in the summer, though.”
Charisse collected as much information as possible. She had already accepted the job in her mind.
“Do you have plans for lunch?” Marc asked.
“I’ll take Charisse to lunch. Any recommendations?” Brent looked at her.
“I own a restaurant in downtown Knoxville. You have to come try it.” Marc waved away her objections.
Soon they were in the private dining area of a very busy Tennessee restaurant. Charisse concentrated on the menu, trying to block out the lunchtime chaos. Otherwise, she would read the oversize menu and still not pick anything. But how could she stay focused when Brent had dropped the bomb of a possible merger with his company?
They ordered their food. No conversation unfolded for a few minutes. They nibbled on the warm rolls at the table.
Finally Charisse spoke, “Why would you make such an offer to me? Mixing business with what we have…well, it makes me uncomfortable.”
“I hope that what we have is worthy of giving it a name. I know that we have a future, and I think we should work toward something that is more long-term and solid. My feelings aren’t wavering.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. How about you? Tell me what’s in your heart.”
“I like what we have. But I can’t stop in midstream with my business.”
“That’s why if we merge, you won’t have money issues to hold you back.”
“But I don’t want your money. I don’t need you to take care of me. I certainly don’t need you to save me.”
“You’re accusing me of a lot. The only thing that I’m guilty of is loving you.”
Charisse sucked in her breath and pulled away. She almost grabbed her pocketbook and ran out of the restaurant. Being stuck in Tennessee was definitely not the answer.
“Tell me that you don’t love me. I can see it in your eyes. I want to be honest with our feelings for each other.”
Charisse closed her eyes and could feel the pounding of her heart. He couldn’t know the truth. He mustn’t. She would push away her secret. Eventually he would forget and move on.
“Charisse?” Brent said her name with enough pain in his voice to make her want to cry.
She remembered her mother’s message. But she looked at the reality. Her mother had put off her dream for decades. Charisse couldn’t accept that for herself.
She didn’t respond. She clenched her hands under the table. Disappointment shone in his eyes, tearing at her heart. All she had to do was utter those three words.
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Seven hours on the plane did nothing to ease the guilt and anxiety. Charisse pushed up the window shade by her seat and looked out on the busy tarmac at Heathrow Airport. When she got off this plane and disappeared into the heart of London, a new life awaited.
A life without Brent.
She took a deep breath. For once, she refused to listen to her
gut. Would she regret staying true to her philosophy?
“Ma’am, will you require assistance?” The flight attendant offered a slight smile as she waited.
Charisse shook her head. No, she was strong enough to go out there on her own. She scooted from between the seats, into the aisle with the other departing passengers.
The line through security was long, and one glance at the customs agents showed they were serious about their jobs. They fired their questions with no trace of a smile. Charisse looked down at the work visa and her passport. Hopefully she wouldn’t have any problems getting through. It was nine in the morning, and she’d scheduled to meet her new client at noon.
Soon it was her turn to go through the process. She answered the questions about her purpose and where she was staying. The swanky hotel on the River Thames waterfront would be home for the week. Not bad after so much time spent worrying over where her next check would come from.
Charisse emerged from the restroom with her makeup repaired and a fresh blouse on. She’d kill for a cup of coffee, but it would have to wait. She scanned the signs with passenger names held by drivers.
She waved at the uniformed driver holding her last name.
“I hope that I didn’t keep you waiting.” She handed over her luggage.
The driver introduced himself. “No worries.”
Once she made herself comfortable in the car, she retrieved her notes. Not that she needed to refresh her knowledge on her new client. She’d not only looked over the material that was sent but had done her own research.
Now she was ready to get to work, starting the new chapter that she’d convinced herself was necessary for her happiness.
Half an hour later, the driver pulled up to the hotel. Charisse stared out of the car window, looking up at the modern shiny building.
“I thought the meeting was at the office.”
“There was a change of plan. Mr. Fielding will have the meeting here for your convenience.”
If I Had You Page 17