Shattered

by Olga Bicos

  And then there was the write-up in Fortune magazine last fall, showcasing the unseen victims of the dotcom bomb. The article featured a rather soulful photograph of Holly sitting on moving boxes outside her defunct architectural office, several plans lying at her feet like the Dead Sea scrolls.

  Just as the photographs of Enron employees had given a handful their fifteen minutes for all the wrong reasons, Holly had felt the glare of failure’s first light. A few weeks later, Daniel, her own Wizard of Oz, had come knocking on her door.

  “What do you think of the place?” Daniel asked.

  She woke up, realizing an audience awaited her comments. She’d been hired to fix a botched remodel, fulfilling Daniel’s dream of updating the family business. She glanced at the stripped molding, wondering what had been plundered there. The low ceiling—no doubt accommodating the more modern conveniences of heating ducts and air-conditioning—made the dining hall claustrophobic. The shape of the windows seemed all wrong.

  Her only other renovation had involved revamping a warehouse into funky office space. Cutty House felt like Versailles in comparison, the task ahead exciting and just a bit daunting.

  “She has nice bones,” she offered.

  Daniel laughed. “Bones? Well, the place needs a face-lift, all right. It’s what Holly does,” he said to his audience. “She makes things over. Like staring at a fresh piece of marble or a blank canvas, she sees the possibilities here.”

  Holly forced a smile. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” she said, forcing the obligatory bravado. Oh, she could get good at this.

  “No,” he said, turning to her. “I don’t imagine I will be.”

  Daniel East had a way of looking at you. Suddenly, the crowd vanished as the white-hot spotlight of his interest centered on Holly. Not for the first time, she had to remind herself to breathe.

  In the beginning, everything about Cutty House and Daniel had seemed too grand, mildly terrifying. Or perhaps, as Harris contended, failure had taken its toll. You’ve lost your mojo, Hol. But she told herself she couldn’t allow dark doubts to interfere with the necessary brilliance she’d once found so effortless. It was time to wake up from the fog of the past, time to pull out all the stops.

  And right now, with Daniel’s faith to buoy her, Holly felt as if she could do just about anything….

  “Excuse us,” he said, taking her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Our patron saint, Vanessa, needs to meet you.”

  Holly followed, knowing full well that Daniel East and his five-star financing had earned her undying loyalty. Her creditors had been marching into the nearly deserted offices, carting away whatever wasn’t nailed down like ants at a picnic when Daniel appeared, handing her a get-out-of-jail-free card. Whatever lay ahead, he would get her best.

  Strangely enough, from the get-go Daniel had acted as if Holly had come to his rescue when she’d agreed to leave Seattle and update the San Francisco icon that, in its heyday, had drawn U.S. presidents and South American dictators alike. Daniel wanted to dust off the Nob Hill attraction’s traditional format and transform it into the new place-to-be-seen. Renamed the East Side Café, the restaurant would feature an innovative grazing menu and a bar that could rival any celebrity trap, wooing a famed roster of guests to its dining room, art gallery and dance club.

  For Holly, this chance was beyond a lifesaver tossed into the tsunami that had become her life. As if divorce and bankruptcy weren’t enough to earn her a scarlet R.I.P. across her breast, Harris had shown up on her doorstep, canned from his corporate America job. For the first time in his life, her brother needed her, and Holly didn’t plan on dropping the ball.

  Entering one of the smaller dining parlors, she took in the subdued flock roosting in the relative quiet of a string quartet, the beat of the Cosmopolitan crowd contained in the larger hall behind them. Here, the occupants appeared adorned in the same old-fashioned wealth as Cutty House itself, the tuxes and elegant black gowns making Daniel look like some exotic bird come to pay a visit.

  “Thanks for the tip on the clothes,” she said, mentioning the boutique Daniel had recommended.

  “The hair’s great. But the suit is much too conservative. I’ll have to talk to Sonia—I’m deeply disappointed. The shoes are divine.” His smile took the sting out of his critique. “You need a makeover as much as this wretched old place.”

  “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  He touched her hand. “Don’t hide the flame under a bush, I always say.”

  She had to remind herself that he was a client. His charm, at times, was a little hard to resist. And tossed in with the whole saved-my-skin thing…hey, she was only human. Luckily, she’d already gone a round with the forbidden fruit of mixing business and pleasure. Once burned…

  “There they are,” Daniel said.

  As the sea of glitterati parted, Daniel steered her toward one of the scariest women she had ever seen.

  There was something not real about her skin, it was so smooth, looking like alabaster. Her black hair was styled into an elaborate French twist, making her appear even more ageless. Holly clocked her in at fifty, but she could have been twenty years older, preserved by expensive treatments and creams, or maybe a Dorian Gray portrait hanging on one of the gallery walls upstairs.

  Holly knew immediately that this woman owned the place. No one else could carry off that air of possession.

  At a gesture from Drew, the woman trained her gaze on Holly. Instantly, she felt like Snow White caught in the sights of the Evil Queen. Bring me her heart….

  The moment passed with the woman’s smile. She stepped forward, taking Holly’s hand in both of hers.

  “You must be the fabulous Holly Fairfield. Daniel speaks of nothing else. You’ve come to save our palace from ruin.” She glanced at Daniel. “And make all of Daniel’s dreams come true.”

  “Rescue us from this fucking nightmare, will you, darling?”

  Both Daniel and the woman appeared struck dumb by the words coming from behind them. As Holly stared, nonplussed, a white-haired gentleman shouldered past the two. He took her hand in his and granted a lingering kiss.

  “Now, be nice and give that back, Uncle Samuel,” Daniel said, stepping between them to retrieve her hand from the man. “Holly, this is my uncle and aunt—my silent partners—Vanessa and Samuel Cutty.”

  The man retreated into the background just as clumsily as he’d taken center stage. His eyes glazed over as he focused inward and began humming to himself in an odd, distracted manner. Daniel again tried to gloss over the awkward moment by angling Holly to face Vanessa Cutty.

  Holly half listened as Daniel waxed poetic about her curriculum vitae, fighting the urge to glance back at Samuel Cutty. He’s drunk.

  “Emma,” Daniel called out, motioning someone toward them. “Join the gang. I want you to meet our heavenly Holly.”

  A beautiful woman, right off the pages of Vogue, eased in beside them. Strawberry-blond hair complemented green catlike eyes. She wore a sheath of a dress, backless and in a nude tone that left little to the imagination—entirely appropriate for someone who had the body of a goddess. What Holly thought was a beauty mark was, in fact, a pierced stud right above her full mouth. Interestingly enough, she seemed about as comfortable in the gown as Holly did in her Donna Karan. A fish out of water.

  “Holly, this is Emma Wright. She’s our most talented and fabulous chef.”

  Holly watched the woman’s eyes glance around the room, her small hands fluttering at her side.

  “Emma is the one who convinced me that a Boba bar by the gallery was all wrong. Too many cheaper versions around these days. But she’s come up with the newest thing, a bar specializing in foods that are aphrodisiacs. I’ve learned all sorts of things from our Emma. Did you know kiwi is a natural vasodilator? She’s made up a beautiful hors d’oeuvre featuring the new gold one. What do they call them, Ems?”

  “Zespri.”

  “That’s right. We’ll b
e all the rage thanks to Emma.”

  Emma Wright, who looked to be in her early twenties, didn’t once acknowledge Daniel’s homage. She appeared ready to jump out of her skin, a child playing dress-up in the sexy gown and strappy heels.

  Sensing a kindred spirit, Holly stepped forward, her hand outstretched. “I think the marriage of décor and food is a must. I’d love to hear any ideas you might have about the kitchen and dining room.”

  The chef gave Holly a brutal stare. “Sorry. You’ll have to do your own work.”

  Daniel laughed. “Don’t mind Emma. She’s a bit of a misanthrope, but she’ll have them lined up around the block. Trust me.”

  “I have to get back. Help the caterers,” Emma said, abruptly turning.

  But she hadn’t taken a step before she did an about-face. There was no mistaking the smile she gave Daniel, though Holly wasn’t quite sure about her whispered words.

  She thought she heard Emma say, “He’s here.”

  A stillness fell over the group as Daniel stepped in front of Holly, his stance almost protective. Holly braced herself, unable to imagine what could set the easygoing Daniel on edge.

  She peeked around his shoulder to see a tall man in his early thirties walking toward the group as if targeting them. The candlelight allowed only the merest sense of dark hair and dark eyes, but she didn’t need the whispers that followed in his wake to set off an alarm. Despite the tiny smile of relief she’d seen on Emma’s face, Daniel appeared far from pleased.

  The man was dressed casually. Holly thought the button-down shirt, leather jacket and chinos made a point, but the nonchalance didn’t quite reach his eyes. They appeared lit up from the inside, his expression too tense as he held out his hand to Daniel, who again shifted to stand in front of Holly.

  The tableau that followed struck her as almost surreal. Everyone froze, suddenly carved out of ice. Only the man in the chinos had color or life. And Emma, holding on to her secret smile.

  Vanessa moved first, stepping out as if to block the man’s path. But Daniel intervened, steering her back in place.

  “Ryan.” For the first time, Daniel took the man’s outstretched hand in a quick, almost hostile shake.

  “Everyone can holster their guns. I only came by to wish you luck,” Ryan said.

  “That’s a little difficult to believe, under the circumstances.”

  A wealth of emotion passed through the man’s dark eyes. She could tell this wasn’t easy for him.

  “Think what you want, Dan. I came with a clear conscience.”

  “I’d like to believe that, Ryan. Really, I would.”

  Almost as if he were parting a curtain, Daniel stepped back, revealing for the first time Holly’s presence. She felt distinctly out of place, a stranger among them. She had no idea what to expect.

  So, of course, the last thing she expected happened.

  The man named Ryan turned to her, his eyes drawn to her by the motion of Daniel moving aside. For an instant, his expression showed a startled recognition before a shadow fell across his face.

  He stepped forward, forcing her to step back. Daniel interceded, once again taking her arm to guide her behind him.

  Daniel whispered, “Don’t.”

  Okay. She wasn’t Miss America, but she wasn’t one of America’s Most Wanted, either. Nothing about her had ever, or should ever, produce the emotion she had seen on the man’s face. Or the quiet that fell over the group.

  She felt suddenly out of the loop, not in on some joke. She wanted to tap Daniel on the back, ask with a smile, “Okay. I’ll bite. What gives?”

  Or maybe she should slide over to Emma, the one person she felt sure would tell her the truth. Because from the reaction of those around her, Holly was certain the news wasn’t good.

  The man never took his eyes off her.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  His words came out hushed. She couldn’t decide if he was speaking to her or Daniel.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. The question was clearly rhetorical. He wasn’t waiting for an answer in any case.

  Watching him walk away, she felt all out of breath, as if she’d just run a 10K race. Maybe it was the champagne—or more likely fear. Up until tonight, she’d held her head high, telling herself she could handle the Cutty project, no matter what. But somehow the man who had just left, the man they’d called Ryan, had shaken that faith.

  “Don’t look so worried. He’s just the black sheep come to pay a visit,” Daniel whispered in her ear. “Family business. It doesn’t concern you.”

  So why had the man been staring at only her?

  “Here’s Harris,” Daniel said, turning her toward her approaching brother. Trust Spiderman to come to the rescue…two minutes too late, of course.

  But when she turned to say as much to Daniel, liking her attempt at levity, she found him gone.

  Daniel was, at that moment, in a heated discussion with Vanessa Cutty. Samuel Cutty waited beside Emma, who appeared no longer in a rush to fend for her caterers.

  “Hey, Cinderella,” Harris told her, sensing all was not well. “Do I hear the stroke of midnight?”

  “I’m not sure.” But there was a distinct chill in the air.

  “Should I call a cab?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  She’d turned tail and run once before, after the fiasco with Drew. She’d let him destroy their business while she recovered from her broken heart. But in the last year she’d found reserves she’d never before tapped.

  And courage. She wasn’t about to let a complete stranger take that away.

  “You go ahead,” she told Harris. “This isn’t exactly your scene.” She scanned the crowd, seeing that, indeed, the mysterious Ryan had exited stage left.

  But Harris turned her around to look at him, his hands on her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  The way he spoke, he wasn’t talking about just making an early night of it. He was talking about the whole deal. Her coming here, taking on this Goliath project.

  A long time ago, Harris alone had slain the dragons for them. It was Harris who had taken over for Dad, putting Holly through school, later paying off Dad’s medical bills. She’d never had to worry about a thing. Just get good grades and a good job, Hol. Her big brother had taken care of the rest. Neither of them was quite used to their reversed roles.

  “Hey,” she said with her newfound bravado, “read my mind.”

  She looked up into eyes the same dark brown as her own.

  “Okay,” he said. “But try to have some fun. And if you need me…”

  “I know. That’s why God created cell phones.”

  “Absolutely.”

  But he wasn’t smiling. And she could feel his eyes on her as she made her way across the room.

  With guardian Harris on the job, she knew she should feel some sense of relief. Only, the last five minutes made everything teeter-totter in her head. She could hear that ugly little voice of fear telling her, You failed in the past. You could fail again. And renovating what amounted to a local monument…

  “Stop it,” she said out loud.

  She picked up her second glass of champagne of the night from a passing waiter and drank, too fast. She wasn’t much for drinking, but she thought tonight might call for a toast or two.

  Halfway through the glass, she thought she’d hit the right pitch, not woozy, but certainly loose. She overheard some gossip about an insanely expensive interior decorator for yachts and smiled. The rich were different.

  It was a strange new world she’d entered, inhabited by people with multiple homes and great big boats, men and women for whom new experiences were to die for. An aphrodisiac bar?

  Just visiting, thank you.

  With Daniel still missing in action, she headed down the hall to explore the other rooms. She and Harris had barely unpacked their bags before Daniel had insisted on her “coming out” party. She hadn’t had a chance to go over Cutty House, though she’d se
en the as-built plans drafted by the previous architect. Tomorrow, with Harris at the other end of a tape measure, she planned to begin her own measurements.

  “Eenie, meenie, minie, moe,” she said, coming to a crossroads, choosing right.

  As the music receded, she reached the end of the carpeted runner. She bent down to look at what appeared to be exotic colored marble.

  “So that’s what’s hiding here,” she said, wondering if the foyer were covered with the same marble. There was a lot of damage, which accounted for the carpet. It would cost a small fortune to restore the treasure of it.

  Not that it would ever happen. Daniel had a different vision for Cutty House. We need to drag ourselves into the new millennium. He’d talked about “shock value,” about how important it was in this world to create a scandal if you wanted to gather a crowd.

  Dusting off her hands, Holly stared ahead to a velvet rope strung across the hallway, obviously to keep party-goers at bay.

  “Which doesn’t include me.”

  She told herself to be careful. The house was old; it might not be safe beyond the rope. And then there were the Jimmy Choos to consider. But after a couple of steps in the heels, she thought she heard something.

  A man calling her name? Just ahead.

  She stepped closer, climbing over the rope, heading toward the arched doorway.

  “Hello?”

  She heard it again. Definitely a man’s voice calling out a name. But not hers.

  Nina?

  He needed a drink.

  Samuel Cutty handed his glass to the waiter. When the damn fool tried to foist champagne on him, he nearly growled, “Martini, Vox. Dirty, with two olives,” sending the boy on his way for a proper drink.

  He watched quietly as Daniel plied Vanessa with excuses. It was a risky business, what his nephew was doing. He wouldn’t have believed it of Daniel. The boy had always wanted things easy and fast.

  Don’t we all.

  But the architect…What had he called her? Holly? Samuel stared out over the crowd, his eyes focusing on some distant spot. From now on, nothing would be easy with that one around. Certainly not for Ryan.