by Claire Adams
I shoved Ivy with my shoulder. "You know I'm not. Just like you know that I'm not in the market for a mile high hook-up."
Ivy sighed. "I'm not trying to hook you up. I'm trying to help you find someone. A real match."
I leaned my head back in the comfortable seat. "Can't we talk about something else? Weren't you supposed to teach me the finer aspects of caviar?"
"You want to change the subject? Big surprise." Ivy sat up and raised her crystal champagne glass. "Here's to your outrageous success at work. Now that you've got your dream career, what else could you need?"
"A lot of people are happy just with their dream careers," I said.
"You're right, and I love that, but you can also have it all," Ivy said firmly.
I shook my head. "Watching my community building foundation go national is enough for me."
"For now," Ivy said.
I laughed at her heavy tone. "At least until we hit the tarmac," I compromised.
While Ivy reviewed her contacts list for possible dates, I dug into my briefcase for the packet Topher had sent me. Rainer's old assistant was an amazing help. I'd been sad to let Amy go, but she assured me she was much happier pursuing a career in coffee preparation.
I dumped the contents onto the spacious tray top in front of me. Topher had sent all my mail because he knew I didn't like to be idle on airplanes. I lifted the first envelope, and Ivy's hand darted over to grab an elegant envelope.
My heart did a dive all the way to the distant ground. Had it finally happened? Had Rainer actually sent me an invitation to his wedding? I'd be dreading it for the last few months.
"It's from the White House." Ivy cooed over the gorgeous card stock and gold leaf embossment. She delicately opened it and grinned from ear to ear. "You've been invited to the White House in order to speak about the core needs of communities and how we as a nation can build stronger communities."
"Wow," I said, but my voice came out shaky. The relief I felt after discovering it was not an invitation to Rainer's wedding had left me weak.
Ivy's sharp eyes flew to my face. "What did you think it would be?"
"Nothing. I'm just overwhelmed. That's quite an honor." I wiped my forehead.
Ivy narrowed her eyes before going back to admiring the elegant invitation. "It says you can bring a plus one. See? I knew there was a reason I was pushing you to start dating again."
"Again?" I asked. "I never stopped."
My friend patted my arm. "I know things were hectic after you left Hyperion, but you haven't even been out for drinks since then."
"I've been a little busy," I said.
Ivy wouldn't let me off that easy. "And now things are settling down. That's why you invited me to join you in Chicago. Face it, Tasha, now that you have your dream job and your schedule is actually balanced, you have no excuse for not having fun."
"We had fun in Chicago."
"That's was shopping," Ivy said. "I'm talking about having wine with dinner. Meeting a man for drinks and seeing if it might go somewhere. I'd even settle for knowing you'd been out to brunch with someone halfway decent."
I laughed at Ivy's frustration. "I have fun. Getting a new wardrobe in Chicago was fun."
"I know, I know, I shouldn't try so hard to be a matchmaker. I just want everyone to be as happy as I am. You can't fault me for that," Ivy said.
"And I won't. I appreciate it, Ivy, I really do. I'm just not ready to date right now."
"Or have fun," Ivy muttered.
I leaned my head back against the seat and tried to think of the last time I had actually had fun. After Stan's announcement, everything was a blur. I'd seen Rainer here and there in the office, but we never got a chance to talk alone. I wondered if he was mad at me for accepting Stan's offer and leaving everyone behind, but that didn't seem like something he would do. Still, he didn't reach out to me, and the only conclusion I could reach was that he was moving on. With Ellison.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The last time I had fun was on Berger's yacht when I knew Rainer was following me down the narrow hallway to that private cabin. It took everything I had to push that memory aside.
The rest of the flight was heavenly seeing as I was able to leave everything up to the first class crew and Ivy. A limousine was waiting to take me home, and though I cringed at the attention it garnered, I was glad when Ivy shut the door and waved my driver on. One thing I was discovering as a business woman and rising CEO was how focused everyone still was on personal relationships. I was turning out to be a very desirable bachelorette.
That's why, when the limousine stopped outside the quaint little white Victorian house on the hill, I had to stifle a groan. My sister was stretching her sore back in the middle of the sidewalk but waved energetically when she saw me.
"What do you think?" Barbie called as I climbed out of the limousine. Only my sister could ignore the long, stylish car balanced precariously on the steep East Bay hill. "I went with white and blue. Not too girly. Do you like it?"
My limousine driver trotted over to help Barbie before she hefted a large flowering shrub. She laughed, pressing both hands to her belly, and then turned back to me. "Welcome home."
I automatically glanced back down the hill where my little condominium was still nestled on the hillside. I had moved all of four doors, but it was a big change. Not only had my view improved to include three bridges and all of San Francisco, but I'd traded up for a five bedroom classic. Barbie had raved about the bay windows and built-in window seats, the crown molding and the hand-carved banister up the polished stairs. But I had bought it for the garden.
Months after Hyperion had been sold, the only solace I had found was digging in the garden.
The white Victorian boasted an acre-sized lot broken into graceful terraces, and even a small orchard row. I had slowly been filling in the rolling garden beds, but Barbie had done wonders.
"I love it," I told my sister.
She rolled up her sleeves. "Good," she said. "Now, let's talk about the interior."
"Can I at least unpack first?" I asked. My limousine driver jumped to collect my bags and bring them inside.
Barbie eyed my slim suitcase. "You know you don't even have a dresser yet, right?"
"So, it's a little sparse inside. I just haven't had time to buy new furniture," I said.
"And maybe you're just waiting." Barbie followed me closely up the front steps. "Furniture is a big decision."
My sister was right. I was hesitating because every time I went to look at furniture all I could think about was what Rainer would look like lounging on it. "Actually, it's such a nice day, why don't we sit out here and work on the garden some more?" I asked.
Barbie waddled ahead to show me what she'd been working on. One garden bed was completely jam-packed with wildflowers. "I mixed the colors so you can just cut a bunch and bring them inside."
She had plans to add fragrant plants to each bed, letting the scents blend before they breezed in my front windows. Then Barbie showed me the sunny spot where she envisioned a raised garden bed for vegetables.
"I was thinking a window box full of herbs would be nice right outside the kitchen," I said.
Barbie heaved her rounded frame into the bushes outside the kitchen and pulled out a measuring tape. I started to laugh but ended up just admiring my beautiful sister. No matter what she was doing, Barbie always had a contented and settled look to her smile. She knew what she wanted and appreciated what she had.
I had been pouring everything I had into work, and I still didn't have the air of satisfaction that my big sister did. I stepped back into the sunshine and took in my heirloom house and blooming garden. The idea of a house-warming party jumped into my head, and as Barbie measured for a window box, I imagined what it would be like to host my friends and colleagues.
Rainer would walk through the front gate and his head would brush the wisteria. He would see me, and we'd embrace, normal for two close co-workers, but I would take an extra second to
smell the flowers mixed with his cologne.
"Please tell me you're not planning a presentation," Barbie said.
I helped her back onto level ground. "No. But I was thinking about a house-warming party. I mean, I know it's not the big flashy mansion that most of my colleagues have, but it's a real historical gem."
"Would you invite everyone from Hyperion?" Barbie asked. "It would be nice to see that Rainer again."
I stiffened as if a bee had stung me. "Why do you say that?"
Barbie smiled at me. "He's a handsome guy. A girl can look. Even pregnant ones."
"Don't tease me, Barbie," I wailed. "Ivy's already done enough of that."
"She teases you about Rainer too?" Barbie asked.
I threw my hands up in the air. "Why do you keep bringing up Rainer?" I asked.
"Why does it keep bothering you?" Barbie asked.
I stomped back to the front steps. "What, are we in junior high school again?"
Barbie looked down at her rounded belly. "Thank God we're not."
I plopped down on the front steps and glared up at her. "I'm sick of matchmakers," I said.
My sister put her fists where her waist used to be and laughed. "Tasha, when are you going to realize that you can't fool me? All of your so-called problems stem from the same thing, and it's time you admitted it."
"What problems?" I asked.
"The blank slate inside, the belief that you'll never be content; it all comes from the same place," Barbie said.
"Fine," I groaned. "Just tell me. What is the root of all my problems?"
My sister put both hands on my cheeks and raised my face up to her smile. "You're in love."
#
The gorgeous redhead looped her arm through mine, and I felt a rush of excitement as I escorted her down the front steps. We stood in my brick-paved driveway and looked up at the house.
"It wouldn't have been so cold and echoing if you'd actually furnished it," she said.
"You thought it was cold too? When I first saw it, I figured all the sunshine would warm it up," I said.
She shook her shiny hair. "No, warming it up is your job."
I chuckled at her purring voice and extricated myself from her grasp. "Now, don't start with that again. I know you're a married woman."
"Has that ever stopped you before?" she asked.
I sighed. "So, you need anything else from me?"
The redhead patted my arm and smiled. "No, dear. Just teasing you a little. I'm glad you decided to sell. This place just isn't the right fit for you."
"Yeah," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets, "but it sure did look good for a while."
"Well, if you'd stop beating around the bush about what you really want, I could find you a place that would fit you to a T," she said.
I kissed her cheek. "You're a great realtor, but I'm just not ready to buy again."
She sighed. "Another bachelor resigned to hotel living. The bane of my profession."
My real estate agent cruised down the driveway and honked once before disappearing into the splendid curves of my soon-to-be old neighborhood. It felt good to be getting rid of something that had fit my image and not me.
My smile was short-lived as my brother drove in at break-neck speed. I refused to move, and he squealed to a stop just inches from my shins. "Good to see you, Evan," I called.
"So, it was just too respectable for you, huh?" Evan asked.
I gritted my teeth against his appraising look. "Yup. Too rich for my blood. Oh wait, that statement doesn't really fit, but you know what I mean," I said.
Evan sniffed. The only point of contention he had anymore was my choice of living space. Now that my charity work was starting to garner notice, he couldn't even mock me for my lack of a job.
"You know, Father doesn't it think hotel living really fits the Maxwell family standards," Evan said.
I sighed. "It makes sense seeing as I'm on the ground in the communities where I work."
"Speaking of that." Evan sniffed again. "Why did you pick that little town on the other side of the bay? No one knows it's there. Couldn't you have gone for a higher profile city in need?"
I glanced over the Bay Bridge to Tasha's little sliver of a neighborhood. "I didn't base it off ratings. The main street is seeing a revival, young families are moving into the area, and they had the perfect building just waiting to be converted."
Evan gave me a pinched look. "It's just an odd choice. There's nothing there."
"That's the point, Evan. It's charity. They need a community center, and I am donating one," I said.
"It'd make more sense if you lived there." Evan pulled a sour face. "You're not moving to the East Bay, are you? Maxwells have always lived in San Francisco."
I headed up my front steps, hoping Evan would have to jet off somewhere else. Anywhere else. "I like the little town. I'm not saying I'm moving there or anything, it's just a nice place to start."
I held my breath. Every time I talked about the community center construction project, I waited for someone to call me out on it. There was a definite need for a gathering place in Tasha's town, but soon someone would wonder why I chose to build my first major project in her backyard.
"Well, at least you're starting to get press for this so-called new 'work' of yours," Evan said. He jangled the keys to his new sports car. "I mean, it's one step above charity luncheons and craft bazaars, but at least it's something."
I stopped at my front door. "Would you rather I was jet-setting around the world, partying, and having the time of my life?"
"Frankly, that would feel more normal than this," Evan said. "Anyway, Father told me to check in on you, and now you can tell him I stopped by. I have to get going if I want to make my tee time."
I didn't bother to wave as Evan sped off in his sports car, revving the engine so the whole neighborhood would notice. My thoughts were across the bay.
For the first few months after Hyperion was sold, I spent my time making the charity rounds, but my brother was right. There were only so many luncheons and silent auctions that I could stand. So, I started working on my own charitable outlets and finally settled on community renovations. It had started off quietly at first, but now my approach was gaining interest.
It would only be a matter of time before Tasha noticed my efforts were sprouting in her own backyard. If she even still lived there. I had heard a few weeks back that she had moved, but no one seemed to know any other details than that. I hated Tasha's low profile even as I emulated it myself.
She was still on my mind as I traversed my empty mansion. Upstairs there was nothing but a tailored suit hanging on the back of the master suite door. My small suitcase lay open on the long marble counter in the bathroom, and all my other measly possessions were safe in storage.
I lifted the suit off the hook and held it up. It was the same one I wore to the yacht party. The same one that Tasha had peeled off me in her attempt to get me out of her system. I wondered for the thousandth time if it had worked for her.
It had made things worse for me. I rehung the suit and turned on a cold shower. Just the memory of Tasha still made me sweat.
I jumped out the shower fifteen minutes later to the incessant ringing of my phone. I grabbed the one white towel left in the house and wrapped it around my waist. "Berger, where are you?" I asked, answering the call.
"Downstairs. What are you doing in that empty house? Get down here so we can go out and party," Berger said.
"I'm just getting dressed. Front door's open," I said. I hung up the phone and finished drying off.
By the time I made it downstairs, my former colleagues were playing an impromptu game of hockey with a can of caviar from my realtor's thank-you basket. I stopped the improvised puck with my foot and shot it back towards Berger.
"There you are. We couldn't find you in this mausoleum," Berger said.
"It's not that bad," I said.
Berger glanced around the white marble mansion. "Not bad if
you're eighty," he declared.
The others agreed and made a string of jokes about the echoing home.
"Are you done yet? Can we get out of here?" I grabbed my suitcase and carried it to the door. "I'm going to throw this in the trunk. I'm heading to a hotel tonight."
"I don't blame you," Berger said. "I feel like I'm about to get interred."
"Then let's go," I said.
I herded the guys towards the big arched front doors, but Berger slipped around me. "Looks like you started to get a little work done on the place. Smart idea, taking down this wall."
"Not my idea," I said.
Berger nodded. "Seems like an Ellison touch to me. She has a great eye for sight lines and how a room should flow."
"Yeah, Ellison's good like that. Wait, how do you know?" I asked. Our colleagues answered with a trio of juvenile cooing.
"Stop." Berger's light smile was gone. "She's always admiring and comparing the interiors when I, ah, run into her at cocktail parties."
It was my turn to pester my friend. "So, you 'run into' Ellison a lot, do you?" I asked.
Before our friends could answer for him, Berger held up his hand. "We run in the same circles. It's only natural."
"If you like charity luncheons and art openings," I said. The guys laughed.
This time it was Berger that herded us towards the front doors. "I thought you didn't like to talk about Ellison anymore."
"But I would like to talk about your sudden interest in my ex-girlfriend," I said.
Berger scowled. "You're over her. You made that abundantly clear."
I sighed. "Not to everyone."
Rumors still circulated that Ellison and I would get married. People delighted in thinking that our distance was due to the fact we were trying to keep our exclusive wedding a secret. It was ridiculous, but I was glad to see that it bothered someone else besides me. Berger looked miserable when the guys still joked with me about it.
"Besides," Berger said, perking up, "tonight is not about me and the only charitable giving that's going to happen tonight is tips. Let's go out and turn San Francisco upside down."