Mending Fences (Destined for Love: Mansions)

by Lorin Grace

  “Mr. Crawford, welcome to my little shop. Vic called me and gave me an idea of what you were looking for, and I pulled out a few models for you to inspect.” The owner’s smile indicated he knew he had a sure sale.

  Forty-five minutes later, Daniel’s phone vibrated with Vic’s text.

  Sorry—traffic. Ready when you are.

  Thanks

  Daniel ended his impromptu photography lesson and walked to his car to the click, click, click of Vic’s camera.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By the time her Tuesday prep period came, Mandy’s students had mostly returned to their less-active selves. Today she’d brought a sandwich for lunch so she could eat at her desk. When the lunch bell rang, she continued working on the windows of the mansion.

  Near the end of the hour, her phone rang. She struggled to understand the excited voice on the other end.

  “A new lens and camera were donated?” Mandy resisted the urge to recheck the phone to make sure the call was really from Professor Christensen.

  “It showed up this morning in the dean’s office by special carrier. No return address. Campus security swarmed the place, thinking the package might be a bomb since it wasn’t delivered to central receiving.” Dr. Christensen chuckled. “They were ready to send it through the X-ray and a bunch of other tests until I pointed out it was an original Nikon box with the seals still intact. They still cleared the office while the one officer volunteered to open it.”

  “Any idea who sent it?” Mandy tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash.

  “No. Since it wasn’t a bomb, security stopped trying to find the guy who’d made the delivery. Did you get any of the grant requests out?”

  “I only finished writing them this morning. I was going to email them for your approval.” Mandy closed the mansion photo.

  “It is odd that someone would donate to the university in a way that wouldn’t get them a tax deduction. Eighty thousand isn’t exactly a small gift.”

  “Eighty? I thought the replacement cost sixty.” Mandy jotted the number on a pad. So many circles.

  “Newer camera and better lens.”

  “Wow.” Mandy sat back in her chair.

  “Since we have no idea where it came from, the dean decided you don’t owe the school any money. I think he is happy not to have to aggressively pursue the insurance claims.”

  The bell rang.

  “Thanks for calling, Dr. Christensen. My next class is going to begin. I’ll see you Thursday.” Mandy disconnected the call as the first few students bounded into the art room.

  Candace removed the black plastic microwave tray from Mandy’s hands and replaced it with her tablet. “Check this out.”

  Daniel’s face filled the screen. Mandy set the tablet on the couch next to her. “I’m not interested in seeing any more of Daniel Crawford.” Maybe if she ignored him, the microscopic crush would shrivel up and die.

  “Read the headline.” Candace sat down next to Mandy and picked the tablet up.

  “If You Can’t Beat ’em, Join ’em: DC Buys Paparazzi-Worthy Camera.” Mandy took the tablet from her roommate’s hand.

  Daniel Crawford was spotted exiting a high-end Chicago-area camera store Monday evening. According to our sources, he purchased a camera and telephoto lens valued at more than $80k after spending approximately an hour talking with the store owner, who declined to comment.

  DC has been rather vocal about his distaste for the paparazzi since the Summerset Vandemark incident last December, calling for stronger ethics and privacy guidelines for the industry, including those who buy and publish photos.

  Several of the photographers who took pictures of an apparently inebriated Summerset Vandemark after her fall at a New York City hotel before New Year’s are facing charges for assault after blocking emergency medical personnel at the scene. The trial is set for early April, as well as a suit against the hotel by Miss Vandemark. Mr. Crawford is expected to be a key witness in both trials. Close sources claim she was at the hotel with Mr. Crawford, who was not present at the time of her accident but arrived in time to render assistance.

  Rumors persist that the couple has not separated. Despite the fact, Daniel has been seen publicly with several women since mid-January, including Summerset at an Academy Awards after-party where witnesses report she dumped Daniel in a drunken rage.

  Is Daniel trying to maintain his relationship with the socialite, disguised as one of the photographers who follows her every move, or is he doing research for the upcoming trial? We hope to have all the answers for you as the trial begins next week.

  Mandy handed the tablet back.

  “Well?” asked Candace.

  “Well, what? He bought a camera. He is a billionaire; he buys lots of things.” Mandy tried to shrug off the question.

  “The night before, a camera of the same value is mysteriously donated to the Art and Design school?”

  She refused to be baited. “Coincidence.”

  Candace huffed. “Seriously? Are you blind? He bought the camera for you.”

  Mandy shook her head. “I told you, when he left Saturday evening, friend zone, remember?”

  “Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Candace got up. “New topic—first date with the law student I met last week. Scarf or wig?”

  Mandy pondered the options. “What did you have on when you met him?”

  Candace tugged on the ends of the scarf she wore. “I think I wore the short brunette—no, the blonde.”

  “Go with the redhead. It will be a big enough change but not shocking. It should get you into the conversation if you want to go there.” Mandy picked her meal back up. “I guess I am on my own tonight. Bless the woman who invented frozen dinners.”

  Candace turned on the news while she dressed for her date. Mandy finished the last couple bites of chicken, chucked the empty microwave-meal container into the trash, and moved to her combination studio-bedroom to work on her project. Her giant Wacom screen was her version of Nirvana. Before the first song finished playing on her feed, Mandy was in the zone, replacing overgrown weeds with green lawn—and reminiscing. Flying kites, running on the perfect lawn in bare feet.

  Candace popped her head in the door. “Guess who is on TV next?”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” Mandy covered her ears in jest.

  The doorbell rang.

  “That’s my date. Don’t wait up.”

  Mandy sat back and studied her work. The notes of a popular entertainment show drifted in from the other room. Candace had left the TV on again.

  It took Mandy a minute to track down the remote. The bleach-blonde announcer started into her first story. “Is Daniel Crawford joining the paparazzi?” The same photo of Daniel carrying a bag with the photography-store logo used in the story she read earlier flashed across the screen. The blonde turned to her cohost. “What do you think DC will do with an $80,000 camera?”

  Mandy shut the TV off. Candace was probably right. The camera at the school was purchased by Daniel last night. Her phone chimed Candace’s tone, then stopped. Mandy checked the screen. Pocket dial. She double-checked her text messages just to be sure. Daniel’s name appeared at the bottom of the screen from the Saturday text exchange. She opened a text window.

  Hey, did you give—

  Delete, delete, delete.

  There was a camera donated to the uni—

  Delete, delete, delete.

  Thank you for donating the camera. I can graduate now. Thanks.

  Send.

  She waited a moment, then pocketed her phone. It beeped.

  How did you figure it out?

  Tabloids are often wrong. Mandy left off the question mark.

  Good call.

  Thank you. I was really worried about how I would pay for my portion.

  Hey, if I hadn’t scared you …

  Eighty thousand and he was taking the blame? Still, it wasn’t your fault.

  It’s all good.


  Mandy stared at the screen. How should she answer that? She sent a smiley emoji.

  No more messages came. Just as well. She slipped the phone onto the desk and returned to her project. She needed to finish the base restoration work before she moved on to the “could be” versions. Halfway through the roof restoration, her phone rang. She looked at the screen, her stylus slipping from her fingers. She hit Control+Z to undo the damage while answering her phone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Daniel?” Mandy heard muffled voices in the background. She stood and started pacing—almost. Stupid crutches.

  “I’ll be back in town on Friday. Can I take you to dinner?”

  In town? Where was he now? “You have already done enough. You don’t need to take me to dinner.”

  “I want to.”

  Mandy hopped over to the bed and sank down on it, glad Daniel couldn’t see the burning cheeks she could see in her mirror. “Yes. Friday, I am free.”

  “I’ll text you the details. They called my flight. Bye, Amanda.”

  She stared as the screen turned from green to orange. “Amanda.” She hadn’t noticed what he called her the other night, but painkillers could be blamed. He used to call her Amanda, saying his name was Daniel, not Danny, and she should go by her proper name too. Apart from a few teachers, Grandma Mae when she was in trouble, and the IRS, no one else ever called her by her given name.

  She opened her browser and searched for Daniel Crawford. She raised her eyebrows at the number of fangirl groups she found. He had been sighted at the Chicago airport boarding a flight to London. Who took a two-day trip to London?

  A half hour later she got up from her computer. What was she doing reading about his life like some crazed stalker fan? This was just Danny. The boy who didn’t know how to skip rocks or climb trees. Yes, he was wealthy, but according to C & O’s annual reports, he was working for every penny and was a smart businessman. Dumb with women, though. The only thing she found to recommend Summerset Vandemark was her father’s money, and Daniel didn’t need that. Why had he dated her for almost two years? One fangirl site speculated DC had dumped Miss Vandemark and that the breakup had been the catalyst for the EMT/Paparazzi fiasco before New Year’s. DC had been seen with various women at events, but Summerset maintained they “remained close but had chosen to check out the options before making a further commitment.” Mandy returned her focus to the screen and wondered if she could find out more.

  What was wrong with her? A tiny reaction to his hands on her waist and she was drooling like the rest of the world. She leaned over and tapped the screen, closing the search.

  Daniel settled into his seat. Window—his preference on red-eye flights. Bonnie was good. He hated to lose her. But whether he married or not this year, she deserved to retire.

  He opened his phone. Should he text Mandy now?

  A coded text from Colin interrupted his musing. Found things about IN offer you flagged. Look on L’s S in locked file.

  How much do I need to worry? Daniel entered the question that would give him the password to the locked file Colin had stored on the London server.

  5. Did you get M a birthday gift?

  Five and Mandy’s birthday, February 9. Now to establish the three letters. Gave her a Nikon.

  K

  Daniel switched his phone to airplane mode. Whatever Colin had found, it was big. Big enough to resort to talking in code. He wondered what he would find when he typed 5M209Nik into the second password box in the London office’s secure server tomorrow and why Colin chose Mandy’s birthday as the number for the code.

  When the flight attendant announced the closing of the plane’s doors, Daniel turned off the overhead light, hoping to get some sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Next to Bonnie, Terrance was the most efficient office employee in the company. The combination of Terrance’s accent and relaxed demeanor soothed Daniel’s nerves, allowing him to relax as they drove away from Heathrow.

  “I took the liberty of having one of your suits brought round to the office to save you time by not stopping at the flat. Sadly, the tie they delivered was that ghastly yellow one I told you to toss on your last visit. I sent a lad to pick a new one up from Harrods. Don’t worry. I ordered it online. You never know when someone is colorblind.”

  Daniel reclined in his seat. “Thank you. Anything else I should know?”

  “Your schedule is sorted out for the day, and I have someone working on an earlier flight. But I think it is unlikely you can leave Thursday evening as the schedule is too tight, and this other firm has a better pitch for you.”

  Daniel nodded.

  The driver stopped at a restaurant. Terrance excused himself and soon returned with a box with steam escaping from its sides. He handed the food to Daniel. “Not quite a proper breakfast, but it will do.”

  The day’s meetings had gone better than anticipated. No groveling on the part of the ad agency. And he met with the vice president of the European branch to discuss branding of a new line of Venetian bakery–inspired desserts in the mid-class restaurants. Daniel logged into the server and the locked file.

  Then he picked up the secure phone line and dialed Colin’s number. “What exactly am I looking at?”

  “The first map is from an Indiana government geological survey of known oil and gas locations. The second is the purchases of the last three years by the conglomerate who owns the real-estate investment firm trying to get your property with the odd mineral-rights clause. The third is from a survey your grandfather commissioned.”

  “None of these seem important enough to have taken these security measures.”

  “Have you read the file labeled ‘Read me first’?”

  “No one ever reads the read-me files.” Daniel clicked and did just that. “You’re saying either someone got lucky or we have a leak?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. If the 1974 survey is correct, the mineral rights are worth millions. Someone had to know about your grandfather’s survey. The Indiana one doesn’t show natural gas on your estate, only at a smaller location about twenty miles west.”

  Daniel clicked through the maps. “Well, now we know why they are so aggressive. I remember seeing a few natural gas wells west of Fort Worth. They resembled mini water tanks. Some were quite discreet. It might be worth exploring the impact of a couple of wells like that, but the pond needs to stay.”

  Daniel clicked on each surrounding property to bring up the sale information. “Colin, can you ask someone to run a deed check on the ten-acre strip on the south side? Back to 1850, if possible. There was something in the family papers about it, but I don’t remember now. It’s been years since I paid attention to anything other than the date I can finally sell the land. That little strip was the first parcel sold to the conglomerate and the only one with that type of price per acre. Everyone else sold out for high-end agricultural prices.”

  “The one sold by a George Fowler? Any relation to Mandy?”

  “Uncle. That is where Mandy’s grandmother lived, and I am quite sure she has no idea the land sold for 3.4 mil.”

  Colin gave a low whistle. “Family feuds have been fought over less.”

  “Go ahead and arrange security personnel to move into the caretaker’s house. I can only be there a couple more days this month, and I don’t want more surveyors sneaking around. I suspect they are from the big-box store that wants the land for a distribution center, but if they are from the gas company, that changes things.”

  “Do you know what you are going to do with the place yet?”

  “Not a clue.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mandy called Candace into the bedroom. “Which of these outfits do you think I should wear tonight?”

  “Going out?” Candace rubbed a towel over her bald head. “Who is the lucky guy? Please, not the handsy coach.”

  “Definitely not him.” Mandy held up a yellow silk blouse.

  “Then who
?”

  “Daniel.”

  Candace let out a little scream. “When did he ask you?”

  “Tuesday night.”

  Candace pulled a blue skirt out of Mandy’s hand. “Whoa, you got asked out by one of the most eligible bachelors in the world and you didn’t tell me? For three whole days? I thought we were friends! And I even did your laundry.” She tossed the skirt on the bed and turned to leave.

  Mandy caught the sleeve of Candace’s robe. “Which is why I have clean choices, thank you. Even if you won’t tell me what he wrote.”

  “Tell me more about this date or I’ll go erase it.” The green T Candace picked up was quickly discarded.

  “I thought it was a joke, but he texted this morning from London and said he would be here at six thirty. And I’ve got nothing to wear!”

  “And only a half hour. Girl, what were you thinking?” Candace dug through the pile on the bed and pulled out a floral miniskirt.

  “Too short. I’ll end up tugging on it all evening.”

  “But your legs are fantastic! Even with the boot.”

  “That is not the type of message I want to send. We are old friends, remember?” Mandy tossed the skirt aside and pulled out a long black one.

  “Old friends, not old lady.” Candace studied the remaining clothes in the closet before reaching to the back and pulling out a thrift-store find from last year.

  “You have never worn this one.” She held out the vintage pink-and-white ’50s dress complete with netted slip.

  “But it’s pink.” Mandy picked back up the yellow blouse.

  “Aren’t you the one who told me that according to color theory, pink is the color that makes guys feel most comfortable and therefore attracted to the female wearing it?”

  “Yes, which is why I shouldn’t wear it.”

  “That is exactly why you should. Hurry up. We have enough time to do your hair something à la Debbie Reynolds.” Candace reached for Mandy’s long ponytail.