Sweet Water: Destination Billionaire Romance

by Laurie Lewis

  “Hudson and I were together every possible minute, until the last few weeks of school.” Olivia lifted her head to look at Laurel. “I think he was planning to propose to me the very night he found out Jeff and I had eloped. I ruined everything. I’m a train wreck.”

  “Or Jeff swooped in and pulled a fast one. Would you have accepted Jeff’s proposal if Hudson hadn’t been AWOL?”

  “I can’t pin this on Hudson. This was my choice. My mistake.”

  “But did Jeff feed your insecurities?”

  “He first mentioned a change in Hudson about a week before the night he came on to me. I had noticed an increase in Hudson’s absence, but I hadn’t said anything until Jeff suggested that he was throwing us to the curb. We fed one another’s insecurities, and we were both wrong.”

  “It all seems pretty calculated.”

  Olivia’s shoulders dropped again. “Jeff may have been a lousy friend, but he wouldn’t be the first guy to pull an end run against a rival. I’m the one who said yes, and now whatever chance Hudson and I may have had is lost. He can’t keep getting bludgeoned by my problems.”

  “I still say those feelings are still there. When you’re ready, you should contact him again.”

  They sat there, listening to the gulls’ cries and the voices of vacationers below.

  “I’m sorry for bulldozing you into the hike and the drive yesterday. Some friend, right?”

  Laurel smiled and squeezed her hand. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

  “Hudson fixed me some soup last night.”

  Laurel lifted Olivia’s head and stood, signaling the end of her friend’s wallow. “Then you need to eat and take a shower.”

  Olivia waved her off. “Just go. I’m going back to bed.”

  “No, you’re not. Shower and get dressed, because you’re coming with me.” When Olivia shot her a “no way” look, Laurel replied, “I didn’t want to tell you this before, but I’ve got a lead on that safe deposit key of yours.”

  “You do?” Olivia straightened and scooted to the edge of the sofa.

  “I was helping my parents sort through some old documents, and I saw their original mortgage. It was issued by Beaverton Valley Bank and Trust.”

  Olivia thought back to the letters on the deposit box key. “BVB&T!”

  “Exactly! The mortgage changed hands several times, and the bank was sold at least once. It’s now part of the big Charter Bank Group, but originally, the bank was owned locally. And get this. Dad said there were a few branches back in the day, and one of them was in Hillsboro.”

  “Is that significant?”

  “I think so. On the day of our picnic, Jeff said when he left us he was going to see his banker at the Charter Bank in Hillsboro. Plus, it’s where we all grew up, so his parents might have banked there. It’s a long shot, but I think we should try.”

  * * *

  Both of the tellers at the small community bank were helping other clients. When a young teller with a name badge that read “Lynn” was free, she called Olivia and Laurel over to her window and asked, “Can I help you?”

  Olivia removed the key from its old envelope and slid it across the counter. “Could you tell me if this is one of your safe deposit box keys?”

  Lynn picked it up and examined it. “I think it is.” Her gaze shifted to the envelope. “But our sleeves don’t look like that.”

  Olivia’s heart sank.

  “But then, I’ve only been here a few months. I could ask the bank manager. She’s been working at this branch for over twenty years.”

  “Thank you. That would be great.”

  Olivia and Laurel watched Lynn head to a glass door in the back of the bank, where she knocked and entered. After a few seconds, she returned. “Mrs. Bristol says it’s ours, and that it must have been assigned way back before we merged with Charter.”

  Olivia beamed at Laurel, who gave a silent cheer. “Can we get into the box, please?”

  A voice from behind them called out, “Just a minute, please.”

  Lynn rushed up to make introductions. “Mrs. Bristol, these are the ladies who own that key I showed you.”

  The fifty-ish woman eyed Olivia and Laurel. “May I ask who owns it?”

  “I do,” answered Olivia. “Rather, it was my husband’s. He was killed in an accident a few months ago. His name was Jeff McAllister.”

  “May I see some ID, please?”

  The lines along the woman’s brow eased and then reappeared after seeing Olivia’s license. “Mrs. McAllister, I’m very sorry for your loss, but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to see the contents of that box. Your husband may have had a key to it, but he was not the owner, and I’m not at liberty to disclose who is. But, you are not the only person interested in those contents. A man named Larry Brewster was loitering in the parking lot the other day. He accosted Miss Cromwell here for information regarding your husband’s accounts. I had to call the police.”

  The blood drained from Olivia’s face at the mention of her despicable former attorney. “He accosted you?” she asked Lynn.

  “He offered me five hundred dollars for information on all of Mr. McAllister’s accounts. When I refused, he grabbed my arm, but I broke free and told Mrs. Bristol.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Do you know this man?” asked Mrs. Bristol.

  Olivia hedged. “He was our attorney. I found him on the Internet, but I fired him some time ago. Did you say that Jeff has open accounts here?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more than that. You’ll need to contact the owners of the deposit box.”

  Laurel looked crestfallen, but Olivia was not dismayed. She had a good idea who the owners had to be.

  15

  After saying goodbye to Laurel, Olivia placed a call to Susan. There was no answer, so she left a message, wondering if there would be a reply. Even if Susan knew about the deposit box, she had no loyalty to Olivia. No reason to answer her many questions.

  The next two hours passed with Olivia curled in a ball on the sofa, rehearsing aloud her final conversations with Jeff and Hudson. Jeff was becoming an enigma to her as increasing mystery further clouded memories of their strained marriage. She tried to reclaim some thread of goodness from that relationship. One scene kept returning to her—the morning-after image of Jeff emerging from their bridal suite’s bathroom red-eyed and bleary as if he’d been crying. His face was twisted in utter dismay. Was it because of guilt? Hudson’s final conversation replayed.

  I gave you what I treasured most—my family, my home, my dreams, my heart—but you rejected them for a dance and a few well-chosen words … and … they weren’t even Jeff’s.

  Jeff seemed to know my heart.

  Of course he did. Because of me … I gave up MIT to make sure he graduated, and then my friend betrayed me.

  Her emotions had been on overload. She processed a word here, a phrase there, doing exactly what Hudson had accused her of—reacting—and doing it badly. The conversation replayed in a loop, and now phrases stuck out. Something cryptic was hidden there.

  I gave you my heart …

  Jeff seemed to know my heart.

  Of course he did. Because of me … empty words … they weren’t even Jeff’s … and then my friend betrayed me…

  Did the words Jeff used to captivate Olivia come from Hudson? Her skin prickled as chills zipped up her spine. In her gut, she knew the answer. But how had it happened?

  Another piece of conversation came to her from the day of the funeral, when she moved into the beach house.

  And don’t worry about my stuff … junk I should have thrown out after college.

  She headed for the utility closet to look for clues. Seven boxes were neatly stacked. The top five boxes looked new, most likely the ones he recently packed, while the two on the bottom looked older, dustier, and more scuffed. These were labeled “2006.”

  Convinced she had nothing to lose, she moved the newer
boxes and dug into the ones from 2006. The first box was filled with random things—photo albums, a photo frame, a scrapbook his mother kept of her only child’s accomplishments, an academic letter sweater, and a few hats from their days at the University of Washington. She began searching through the scrapbooks and albums and was startled when she saw a photo of her and Hudson on the cover of a thin blue book that bore an elaborate graphic representation of its strange title, “The P³.”

  The image appeared to be a candid photo taken with a telephoto lens. She knew Hudson’s father had such a camera. The photo captured a moment that didn’t immediately come to mind, catching them in the surf on Cannon Beach, their faces mere inches apart. Hudson’s hand was near her face, brushing or wiping something from her cheek. Her eyes were closed, but it was the expressions on Hudson’s face that captured her attention. Only a fool could have missed it—the captivating blush of first love.

  Tightness returned to her chest as she sat on the floor and opened the blue cover to a five-page spread of photos of them together and titled “Beginnings.”

  The next two-page spread, titled “Discovering Your Heart,” included photos of Olivia’s favorite things: baggy sweaters, kiwi fruit, boat shoes, yellow tulips, a box of Andes Crème de Menthe, Acqua Di Gio cologne, Colbie Caillat’s song “Realize.” Prickles sprang along her arms and neck.

  She opened the book to the next section. With tear-filled eyes, she studied the collage of photos he assembled to illustrate their perfect date. The setting was classic Hudson—dinner on a blanket by the sea, surrounded by gulls, with a bouquet of yellow tulips, and Colbie Caillat playing in the background. Her eyes burned as she read the words printed along the bottom of the page— “Will You Marry Me?” Now she understood. The book actually was Hudson’s perfectly planned proposal. “The P³.” It was how he planned to ask her to marry him. She slammed the book shut. Except for the location, every element of Jeff’s proposal came from Hudson’s book. The morning’s conversation returned.

  Jeff seemed to know my heart.

  Of course he did. Because of me … and then my friend betrayed me.

  She felt sick. Either Hudson had played Cyrano to Jeff’s Christian, or Jeff stole Hudson’s plan before Hudson had a chance. She knew the answer. She had been a silly, naïve fool.

  With hands shaking, she reopened the cover and flipped to the final section, titled “Happily Ever After.”

  Page one was a copy of the letter finalizing the meeting to sign the contracts for Arena Corp. The date stung her heart. It was the date Jeff swept her off her feet and upset the balance in her world. The day before her wild elopement. What would have happened if the meeting hadn’t been delayed?

  The next two pages were a collage of photos Hudson had compiled—images of the beach house, three children and two dogs at play on the beach, and her favorite: his and hers computer stations set up on the porch overlooking the sea. Hudson’s dream for them.

  Tears dropped to the cover as she closed the book and reached for the photo. Hudson’s beaming smile took her back to more innocent times when they were juggling schoolwork and the Arena project. She’d seen that radiant joy on his face once since then: in the images of him with the orphans and nuns.

  She recognized the two older men in the image as Hudson’s first Arena Corp clients—football coaches from major universities in two different conferences. Memorabilia on the walls indicated that this was taken in the office of Bellingham University’s football coach. She knew that was the planned location of the scheduled contract meeting, and she assumed it was taken the night the contract was signed. But that was after her marriage, when Hudson was supposedly heartsick and suffering. So how could he be beaming?

  And then a detail on the coach’s whiteboard caught her attention. The date was written in the corner, and she felt ice run through her veins. June eighteenth! That date was the originally scheduled meeting date. On the night Jeff was supposed to be with Hudson, making the pitch, he had missed the meeting and lured her back to the apartment to work.

  It was a lie. All of it was a lie. And she’d bought it.

  Something else Hudson said returned to her. We both know he could sell a line. I just never figured it would be to you. And you bought it, on that night of all nights.

  The depths of both Jeff’s cunning and her weakness stole the very breath from Olivia. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, unable to cry any more tears. Hudson had put all the pieces together, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it.

  What other secrets had Jeff hidden? She thought of the key, wondering where that would lead.

  16

  She called Susan again, and this time, her former sister-in-law answered the phone. Susan’s friendly tone stiffened once Olivia identified herself. They made it through all the stilted social pleasantries and questions of Olivia’s health before the anticipated awkward pause set in, and then the conversation took an unexpected turn. Susan’s voice softened measurably, and Olivia thought she even heard it catch as she began.

  “I-I’ve wanted to call … to apologize for the way I handled things. I was cold to you. Maybe I was still in shock. It’s the only excuse I have. It’s just that Jeff was my brother and my hero, and nothing about your marriage or Jeff’s behavior made any sense to me or my parents. Anyway, I’m sorry for adding to your pain.”

  The revelations about Jeff’s lies and his stolen proposal tainted Olivia’s memories of Jeff, but Susan’s memories were unblemished, reminding Olivia of the confident joker, the handsome swaggering jock that made coeds, including her, swoon. What had changed him so completely, so quickly? She hoped the answer was in the safe deposit box.

  Susan’s kindness stunned Olivia, who could barely find her voice to reply. “Thank you. It was a hard time for all of us.”

  “I’ve started to call you a dozen times, but I was too embarrassed, so I stopped. Could we visit sometime and talk?”

  Olivia gushed, “I’d love that.” Then a thought hit her. “But I don’t know where I’m going to be living. I might move closer to Portland after all.”

  “So how are you and Hudson getting along?”

  Olivia felt her heart clench. “He’s been … wonderful, but I need to make a new life and stand on my own two feet now. It’s time, which brings me to why I called. I need a favor, Susan. Would you help me with something?”

  “If I can. What is it?”

  “I found a key to a safe deposit box in Jeff’s wallet. Could it be your parents’?”

  “I had completely forgotten about that. My parents arranged for that box years ago. They moved the summer before I started college, but they kept the safe deposit box and gave Jeff and me keys so we’d have access to the documents we’d need in an emergency—a copy of their will and our birth certificates.”

  “Do you know if Jeff ever accessed the box after that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Jeff carried that key with him. There might be something personal in there. Something that could give us answers, but the bank won’t let me open it, Susan. Would you open it for me?”

  The silence that followed dashed all of Olivia’s courage. She feared she had pushed too far when Susan broke back in.

  “I’m checking my calendar. Work is killing me. It serves me right for being a know-it-all first-year teacher who complained too much. The benefactor of the school has named me the chair of The Pioneer School’s advisory board. I have no life or free time.”

  “It sounds like they really trust you.”

  “That’s great if I survive all this. So-o-o, I could come into Portland on the third Saturday in October. We could get into that box if we arrive at the bank early. Say, around ten?”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Olivia.

  17

  The botched hike to Short Sands Beach set Olivia’s recovery back and slowed her search for a new place to live. Once again, it was Laurel to the rescue. Now that Olivia was willing to relocate to Portland, Laurel f
elt comfortable offering the Ashburn’s’ finished basement to Olivia with a month-to-month lease. It would give Olivia time to sort out her life.

  Pepper hadn’t stopped by since their last chat, and Olivia’s messages about her impending move went unanswered. There had also been no contact from Hudson, and Olivia’s mind went to hurtful places, imagining Hudson finding solace elsewhere, like in Pepper’s willing arms. She was stuck in an emotional crevice, anchored to a bitter past and unable to move forward. Her only peace came from remaining busy, so when she wasn’t on the beach or spending time with Laurel’s family, she was at her computer.

  Work was increasingly more satisfying. Ethan had become a true colleague who included her on video conference calls and sent her out to support clients in the U.S. He also began soliciting her input on projects to which she was not even assigned, and then she was summoned to The Bauer Group’s New York headquarters for a meeting.

  The excitement and expectation of possibly seeing Hudson flattened as her taxi crawled through the intimidating financial district. She looked down at her functional blue pantsuit and wished she had dared to wear something more sophisticated, at least high heels instead of sensible pumps. Her hand reached back and touched her long, loose hair. She pulled a clip from her purse and quickly fashioned her hair into a twist, but her confidence continued to lag.

  She feared she was pretending to be more than she was. Less than a year ago, she was little more than a motel-room hacker, the Cinderella of programmers whose fairy godfather—Hudson—had placed in a dream job far outside her element and one for which she didn’t feel qualified.

  The taxi stopped outside a tower whose top five floors housed headquarters for The Bauer Group. Olivia took the elevator to the eighty-seventh floor and when the elevator doors opened, a man greeted her in a familiar, welcoming voice. Olivia recognized Ethan immediately from their teleconferences. “Security notified us you had arrived.” Arms reached in her direction and grasped her shoulders as two air kisses graced her left and right cheeks.