The Executive

by Kimberley Montpetit

“Truth always brings light,” she said. “Fresh hope. You’re a whole new you—and me, well, I’m still a work in progress. I’m ten years out of high school and exactly opposite of where I thought I’d be.

  “Sometimes,” he said slowly. “We have to take ten steps back before we can move forward. I’m the poster child for that. Ten feet down into a pit.”

  “My life is a fairy tale compared to yours. What happened with your father the other night? I didn’t think the prison would have visiting hours so late.”

  Caleb’s jaw muscle twitched. “He tried to kill himself.”

  Kira sucked in air. “Oh, no.”

  “It’s happened many times before. It’s his way to get me to come running. Even though I visit him every month.”

  “He wants to know that you still love him.”

  “He just wants attention.”

  Kira reached out a finger to lift his chin. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Caleb gave a sharp laugh, his eyes glued to hers. “Maybe I took your necklace because I wanted you to notice me.”

  She smiled at that. “Is your father okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. In the infirmary being watched for forty-eight hours. They’re going to change his anti-depressant medication.” Caleb squeezed her hand, lifting it to his lips to briefly kiss her fist. “Are you going to run away from me, too? I can’t say I would blame you.”

  “I’m trying to believe in miracles. Maybe miracles really can happen.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “My necklace miraculously showed up—and you along with it.”

  Chapter 21

  Six weeks later the Christmas holidays were over and even New Year’s was a distant memory. A fresh snowfall lay deep on the ground, and the world outdoors was white and pristine.

  Kira sat in her parent’s kitchen, holding the ruby necklace in the palm of her hand after helping her mother bake bread, one of her father’s favorite treats in the middle of winter.

  Caleb was in Spain meeting with new distributors. He texted her several times a day and they spoke each late afternoon before the dinner rush at Rossi’s began, but just before midnight in Barcelona.

  Their text conversations—and real conversations—were the highlight of each day. He was funny and charming and some sort of gift showed up via UPS on her doorstep each day.

  Flowers. Spanish chocolates. A small painting of a garden with hibiscus and orchids that fit perfectly on the wall of her living room.

  Notes and cards and messages with messages of, I’m dying to kiss you.

  Each message, each gift, each time she heard his voice on the phone, her stomach jumped into her throat.

  Her mother puttered around the kitchen, attempting to fix scrambled eggs and searching for the grated cheese.

  “I’ll finish up,” Kira told her, setting down her phone after scrolling through a few pictures of the famous Gaudi Cathedral and gardens Caleb had sent her. Accompanying the pictures were the words: I can’t wait to take you on a trip to Europe and show you everything. I hate traveling alone.

  Europe. DREAMS. Dreams. Could they really be coming true?

  “My mother’s necklace!” her mother said, appearing at Kira’s shoulder and spotting the necklace lying in her palm. It was the first time she’d brought it over to show her parents. “You found it. I always knew you’d just misplaced it. I probably shouldn’t have given a teenager such a valuable heirloom.”

  “Maybe not, but this necklace is changing my life,” Kira said with a sudden laugh as she clasped it around her neck. “Mom, why don’t you sit with dad while I finish cooking the breakfast eggs?”

  Kira rummaged through the refrigerator and found the cheese, sprinkled it on the eggs, scooped them up on two plates to take to her parents who were watching the morning news.

  Pausing, Kira touched the ruby gemstone with her fingertips. She used to do exactly this when she was sitting in class taking a test. As if her grandmother would whisper the right answers into her ear when she got stuck on a problem.

  When she laid the plates on her mom’s TV tray, and the tray at her father’s chair, he glanced up at her, turning down the volume. “You look happy, Kira-girl.”

  “I guess I am, Dad. More than I’ve been in a long time.”

  “Hope does that.”

  “Dreams do, too.”

  Her father took her hands and held them in his. “These hands have dreams. I always loved hearing you play. It astounded me to have a daughter who was so talented.”

  “Talent still needs a boatload of practice.”

  “It’s never too late, sweetheart,” her father said.

  “That’s something I still need to find out.”

  “Will you play a little Brahms while I eat?” Her father nodded toward the old upright she’d grown up practicing.

  He gave her a wink and Kira finally relented. “Okay, just for you.”

  The old piano was a little out of tune, but the familiar touch came right back to her when Kira ran her fingers up and down a few scales to warm up. After playing at Caleb’s house, she wasn’t nearly as rusty as she thought she might be.

  Perhaps the piano was like riding a bike. At least a little bit. She was still woefully behind where she’d been two years ago, but perhaps with some hard work she could get it back faster than she’d lost it.

  Her old music books were in a basket on the floor. Kira picked out a couple of soothing pieces to play for her parents.

  When she finally rose from the piano bench, her mother pressed the mute button off on the television, the sound of conversation on a sit-com suddenly loud in the room.

  Appearing distracted and distant, she began switching channels from news of protests on the street to cooking channels and old movies, then sports, and finally a soap opera channel that showed reruns of all things.

  “The Guiding Light is still on?” Kira asked with amusement.

  Her mother began to relate the storyline from twenty years ago, as if she’d just watched it yesterday. Her mom used to watch the show during the summer when she wasn’t working, while Kira and her brothers were outside building a fort or riding bikes.

  Except that this neighborhood wasn’t the one she’d grown up in. And the current backyard was no bigger than a postage stamp. At least her father had windowsills full of his manicured bonsai trees.

  “Hey, Dad,” Kira said, putting her hand on his shoulder after her mother had finished expounding the ancient plotline. “Everything okay?” she asked. The doctors said there wasn’t much they could do for dementia except learn how to manage it and join a support group.

  “We’ll survive,” her father said quietly.

  The future still worried Kira. How could she move on with her own life when things could go badly for her mother and her father needed so much help with his daily care? She was in a strange state of limbo.

  “Kira, I’m the one who vowed to love and care for Claire when we got married. We will manage. You get on with your life, or I will never forgive you.”

  “Hey, those are strong words!” Kira said with a laugh.

  Her father tugged her closer, meeting her eyes as she kneeled on the floor in front of his wheelchair. “I’m dead serious. You’ve changed over the last couple of months, but I’m not sure why.”

  “I’m thinking of taking up my music again. I’m lost without it. Not completely whole. Does that make any sense?”

  “Makes complete sense and I’m glad to hear it, but there’s something else. I’m still your good old dad even if I can’t get around very well any longer. My brain still functions just fine.”

  “You always cut through the peripheral stuff, don’t you?”

  He sat patiently, waiting for her to spill it.

  Kira sucked in a breath. “I think I may have met someone who has the potential to change my life. In fact, he already has. It was through him that I got grandmother’s necklace back.”

  Her father’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Now that’s intriguing.
I suspect his name might be Caleb Davenport?”

  “Yes,” she replied, a blush heating up her face. “He’s kind and generous—and utterly handsome.”

  “I was glad to meet him over the holidays. Your brothers seemed to approve of him, too.”

  “Hey, he loved Mom’s turkey and pumpkin pie, but Carl sure grilled him when he invited him for a “drive” around the block.”

  “That’s what older brothers do best.”

  “He’s a good man,” Kira added quietly.

  “Does he have a job?” Dad asked.

  “Ha! You know perfectly well he runs his own company. And it’s pretty successful, too.”

  Her father’s eyes twinkled as he watched her from across the living room. “As long as you have a roof over your head and someone who truly loves you, I’ll be happy.”

  “Ironically, the necklace brought us together. I think he’s loved me for a long time, but we had no way into each other’s world before now.” Kira got up to kiss her father on the cheek before returning to her apartment, and most likely a very hungry Miss Pixie.

  “Timing can often be everything, Kira-girl,” he said.

  Not sixty-seconds later, the doorbell rang and a special delivery service delivered a crisp, gold invitation with the name Kira Bancroft on the front of the envelope.

  Chapter 22

  Miss Kira Bancroft is personally invited to spend an evening with

  Mr. Caleb Davenport at his Davenport Estate

  Saturday, February 17th

  at 7:30 p.m.

  Dress for a special evening of dinner, dessert, and dancing in the snow

  The invitation was created with embossed lettering, the words glittering with a gold shimmer.

  The man who had delivered the invitation waited politely at the door, half turned in deference to Kira’s privacy as she stared in shock. Stammering, she turned to show her father. “Look at this, Dad.”

  Her father read the invitation and glanced into his daughter’s face. “Looks to me like this man has pretty good timing in more ways than one.”

  “Is there a reply, Miss Bancroft?” the man said at the door, the resonance of his voice quiet, but projecting across the open threshold.

  “Uh, yeah—I mean, yes. I’m trying to think. I can’t think.” Kira’s heart stuttered inside her chest. She had never received anything remotely like this before. Finally, she stepped forward, gripping the beautiful invitation in her hand. “Please tell Mr. Davenport I will be very happy to accept.”

  “Excellent. He will send a car for you at 7:00 p.m. that evening,” the man replied with a slight bow. “Good day to you.”

  He stepped off the porch, where old leaves swirled in the February breeze, making Kira cringe at how much outside work there was to do here at this dingy, little house. It must kill her father to not be able to take care of it, but he never complained.

  When Kira closed the front door, she pressed the invitation to her chest, feeling overwhelmed. Caleb was still in Spain, of course, but he was already thinking ahead two weeks for his return.

  Her mother was all aflutter when she read the gorgeous invitation. “Oh, my, what class this young man has.”

  “Do you want to go dress shopping with me?” Kira asked, grinning at the sudden light appearing in her mother’s eyes.

  “That’s a great idea,” her father said behind them, wheeling his chair around to peer through the narrow front window curtain at the black Lincoln Town Car pulling away from the curb.

  Two weeks later, Kira got the night off from Rossi’s and allowed herself extra time to dress.

  She hadn’t seen Caleb since his return from Spain two days before. He’d hoped to be home sooner, but the trip turned into a whirlwind of cities—not only Barcelona, but Madrid and Valencia on the coast as his various vendors multiplied by referral.

  He had sent her a text message, since he wasn’t able to see her, reminding her of their planned evening.

  Caleb: We’re celebrating tonight! Come hungry. I hired a superb chef.

  Kira: Like a girl is supposed to show up on a date hungry and stuff her face.

  Caleb: You mean, that’s really a thing? I guess I’m ignorant of that tradition.

  Kira: I’m not usually a trend follower.

  Caleb: I know. . .

  Still wearing her towel from the shower, Kira laughed as she pulled out her blowdryer.

  A gold Lincoln arrived to pick her up, but the chauffeur wasn’t the same man that had shown up at her parent’s doorstep with the invitation.

  How many staff did Caleb employ? Or were they all from an employment agency hired as temps for the evening?

  The thought made her smile.

  A light dusting of snow had fallen in the late afternoon, but the temps weren’t too horrible. All the snow from a week ago had melted with a sudden, unexpected warm spell and full sun, a phenomenon that occasionally delighted Denver’s citizens during particularly brutal winters and gave them hope for spring.

  Kira felt like Cinderella arriving at the ball as the Lincoln Town Car meandered its way down the winding drive and pulled up before Caleb’s mansion. The estate glowed with dozens of lights along the stone walkways as well as lanterns hanging from the pines and fir trees.

  When the chauffeur opened the car door and helped Kira step out, she noticed that the pathways toward the front door were heated and dry, no ice to slip on with high heels.

  Picking up the hem of her three-quarter length deep blue organza dress so she didn’t trip, Kira walked up two sets of stairs to the double carved doors. She loved the dress she’d found off the rack at a Nordstrom sale. A square neckline, belted, but not too narrow, and not too fluffy like a teenage prom dress.

  The dress also came with a half-length white lace jacket, but at the moment she was also wearing a heavy coat so she didn’t turn into a Popsicle, as well as a cashmere scarf her mother had given her from the stack in her bureau. Despite fleece-lined leather gloves, the tips of her fingers were cold.

  Lifting her eyes when she reached the last step on the landing to the front doors, Kira gasped at the profusion of lights blazing in every window of the house. Warm and golden and welcoming.

  It was breathtaking to see the house at night. The sight reminded her of Darcy’s Pemberley estate from Pride and Prejudice.

  She wasn’t at the doorstep for more than three seconds when the door flew open and an older gentleman greeted her with a small bow and a slight Spanish accent. “Miss Bancroft, welcome to the Davenport Estate. I am Mr. Penrose at your service. Mr. Davenport awaits you in the music room.”

  “Oh, my,” Kira murmured as Mr. Penrose took her coat and scarf, hanging them on a coat rack. After she tugged off her gloves, the butler neatly placed them on a silver platter sitting atop the entryway table.

  “This way, please, Miss Bancroft.”

  The interior of the house was even more stunning than the exterior. Every room and hallway was lit up as if it was Christmas. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings with hundreds of sparkling crystals. Long, tapered candles flickered gold flames against the mantle’s filigree.

  Kira could hardly breathe as she followed Mr. Penrose through the second hallway toward the music room. When he opened the door, her heart slammed against her rib cage because the music room was the prettiest of all.

  “Miss Kira Bancroft, sir,” the butler announced, ushering her inside and then closing the door behind him.

  At least one hundred tall white and gold candles surrounded the oblong room, sitting on top of the tables and fireplace mantle, including the top of the glossy black Steinway, which created a warm hue against the oak paneling.

  Caleb stood beside the grand piano, wearing a dark gray suit and deep blue tie which miraculously matched her dress color.

  His wavy brown hair was curled around his ears and tapered along the back of his neck. His straight nose and startling blue eyes reminded her of a model on the cover of a magazine. Or a Greek prince. But she would
never tell him that. It might go to his head, she mused, although she seriously doubted that. Caleb had no idea the effect he had on women—and especially her.

  “Kira,” he breathed, a note of relief in his voice, as if he was worried she might not show up.

  “I feel like I’ve stepped inside a dream,” she told him when he pulled her close, his breath on her hair, and his lips on her ear.

  “I’ve been beside myself to see you again,” he said in his deep voice.

  “I agree,” she whispered back.

  “I never want to be away from you that long again.”

  “Next time take me with you,” she teased.

  “You read my mind. You look astounding. Perfect. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “My, my, you’re full of compliments,” she quipped. “You look good enough to eat yourself, Mr. Davenport.”

  He grinned, his white teeth sparkling under the candlelight. “Call me Caleb.”

  “Have we known each other long enough to drop the formalities?” she teased.

  “I think it’s been about ten years too long.”

  His arms circled her waist and Kira found herself breathing in the delicious scent of his skin, shivering at the way he looked at her.

  His white shirt was crisp against her cheek, his arms muscled and strong while he held her, and when they broke apart at the opening of the door, she was suddenly cold without him.

  “Dinner is served,” Caleb said as a set of doors opened and Mr. Penrose appeared with a cart holding their meal on fine gold rimmed china.

  A fire snapped in a grated fireplace at the end of the room, and that’s when Kira noticed that a dinner table had been set in front of it, complete with linen napkins and crystal goblets.

  “Everything is so beautiful, so perfect,” she exclaimed. “I think I’ve been transported inside a palace.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I hope you like dinner, too. I cooked the filets myself.”

  “What dream have I fallen into? A man who’s also a chef? And you kept your suit clean, too, I see.”