The Owner's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance Book 4)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  Melody nodded, moving toward the bed where Mirry lay so small, and so fragile. Her skin was an ashen color, eyelids paper thin with spidery blue veins.

  “It’s me, Mirry,” she said softly. “Melody. Are you awake?”

  Mirry’s eyes fluttered open. “Melody, darlin’”, she said in a whispery voice. “Been dreaming ’bout you.”

  “I’ve been worrying about you constantly. I couldn’t get back into the city until today.”

  Her grandmother’s fingers plucked at the white sheet as she tried to adjust her position, groaning as she did so; the breathing tubes twisted and Melody reached out to adjust them. “What day is it?”

  “Just lie still. I’ll re-tuck your bedding to make you more comfortable.”

  Mirry blinked as though the light from the window was bothering her and Melody pulled the blinds down. Her grandmother let out a deep, hoarse sigh, her chest rattling from the pneumonia while Melody straightened the sheets and tucked them under the mattress, smoothing out the wrinkles with her hands.

  Mirry fumbled for Melody’s fingers, but her strength was limited. “Tell me,” she said.

  Melody grabbed a chair and held her hand between her own. “Tell you what, dear?”

  “Crystal? Is she--?” Words and energy seemed to fail her.

  “I saw her yesterday and she’s fine. She flew back to New York today.”

  Mirry tried to wet her dry lips and Melody picked up the water cup from the bedside table, holding the straw in her mouth so she could take a sip. “Just wet your whistle,” she said lightly. “I’ll put some lip balm on for you. That will help with the chapped lips.”

  She rummaged in her purse and applied the balm which seemed to calm her grandmother. “Tell me,” Mirry said again. “Tell me about—” her lips tried to form the words, but she ended up shaking her head in frustration instead.

  “Do you mean did I go to White Castle?” Melody asked, knowing full well that was weighing on her grandmother’s mind. “Yes, I did. The flooding wasn’t bad, although the power was out for a few days. The sun is coming out now. We survived the hurricane, and you’re getting well. Keep fighting hard to get your strength back.”

  Weakly, Mirry lifted her hand, waving it in the air for a moment as though trying to collect her thoughts. Slowly she turned her head. “Did you—did you find it?”

  A deep rattling sound racked her chest, and then her strength was gone and she closed her eyes.

  “Mirry, are you still awake? Should I get the nurse?”

  Melody glanced behind her, aware that Britt was standing behind her, solid and silent, prepared to run and do anything she asked of him.

  Her grandmother’s eyes suddenly fluttered again. “Promise. Promise . . . White Castle.”

  Leaning closer, Melody whispered, “I saw the photograph of you and Papa in the ballroom. But why were you there? What does it mean?”

  “Remember. Remember. Attic. Parish . . .”

  Mirry let out a long, rattling sigh that sounded horrible, and then lapsed into unconsciousness again.

  Melody watched her for a few moments longer, wiping at her eyes. Rising, she kissed her grandmother on the cheek, and then slowly backed toward the door.

  Britt put an arm around her and pulled her in for a comforting hug. “She’s going to recover and be home before you know it.”

  Melody nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “Our grandparents gave us a wonderful life.”

  “I can see how much you love each other.”

  “Did you hear what she said to me?”

  “Not much. Were you able to understand what she was trying to tell you?”

  “There are things she wants me to do—things I had already planned to do, but I need a vehicle to accomplish them.”

  “You can use my truck. I have a Lincoln Navigator, too, which has a back end like an SUV and is super comfortable to drive.”

  “Four cars?” Melody lifted her eyebrows. “Any other cars you’d like to tell me about?”

  His expression turned sheepish. “I have a Lincoln I keep in Savannah at an apartment there. I use Savannah as a headquarters for my auctions and all of that. It’s easy to get to Atlanta or Charleston from there. Sometimes, Charlotte, North Carolina. I do like road trips.”

  Melody’s mouth quirked into a smile.

  “I want to kiss those saucy lips, you know,” Britt said, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

  “Ssh! You are terrible.”

  “But you’re grinning from ear to ear.”

  “Hopeless! That’s what you are.”

  Melody allowed him to take her arm while they returned to the parking lot and climbed back into the truck. She was quiet as they drove through neighborhoods on the way to the French Quarter. Roads still sported a few inches of standing water where residents or emergency people were sloshing through.

  Mounds of trash heaped up along the lawns. Insulation, soggy dry wall, damaged furniture. Countless trash bags loaded with irreparable pictures, clothes, and toys.

  “I should go check on Mirry’s house, but I can’t bear to see it right now. I’ll call some of her neighbors to see what needs to be done.”

  “We can do a clean-up there, too.”

  “But aren’t you scheduled for your work trip soon?”

  “It will all work out, Melody,” he said, pressing her hand as he drove down Bourbon Street. “Now direct me to Books on the Mississippi.”

  “Turn right at the next corner, then go down the wide alley a couple hundred feet. My store is on the right. Brick façade. Picture windows full of books.”

  Except there wasn’t.

  Melody choked out a cry when she climbed out of the truck and lurched toward the front door, sloshing through water. “Oh, no, oh, no,” she moaned, stumbling down the broken sidewalk.

  The books were gone—or rather they had fallen into the still-standing water. The bloated bookshelves had crashed into a hundred splintered pieces, floating on top of the water as well.

  The particle board shelves, purchased because she couldn’t afford anything of higher quality, had nearly disintegrated, turning pulpy as though they had just been churned through a paper mill.

  The door was unlocked and a growl of irritation exploded from Melody’s throat. “That’s Vince’s doing. He couldn’t even lock the door behind him.”

  Silently, the two of them walked the aisles previously labeled New Releases, Adult Fiction, Travel, Historical, Science Fiction, Children, and Young Adult. After being water logged for so long, there were aisles where the shelves had fallen into soggy heaps that smelled horrible after being shut up in a hot, humid building for days.

  The books were ruined forever. Pages had bloated from sitting in water for so long. They were completely unreadable.

  Melody’s chest grew tight. The damage was almost inconceivable. “I can’t salvage anything,” she said, her throat thick and strained.

  When they reached the Customer Service desk, the cash registers were lying open and empty, any money left taken by looters—or Vince.

  “It probably wouldn’t matter anyway,” Britt said. “Water damage is always the worst on books and anything made of wood that’s not solid oak.”

  The squishy carpet under their feet felt weird and Melody winced knowing it was probably not salvageable either. It had been cheap remnants to begin with. She’d started her bookstore five years ago on a shoestring budget and small loan, afraid of not being able to pay the bank the monthly mortgage.

  “You’re insured, right?” Britt asked softly behind her.

  “Um, yeah, but I’m not sure how much. I may have only insured the structure and not the contents. This may put me out of business for good.”

  “Chin up, sweet Melody,” Britt said, his voice cheerful and optimistic.

  “Easy for you to say when you have billions in the bank.” Melody put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.” The tears finally came, dribbling down her cheeks. “It’s just
so unbelievable. I can’t even comprehend the damage this is, it’s hard to take it all in. Like something out of an apocalyptic movie.”

  “Hey, hey,” Britt said, wrapping his big arms around her and rubbing her back soothingly. “You’re in shock. But anything can be fixed. You’re tougher than you think—and you’re from the South. Hurricanes and flooding never get us down for good. Neighbors help neighbors. You can depend on it.”

  “Everything has to be thrown out. All these lovely, precious books.”

  “But books can be re-ordered.”

  “Not the older ones. The collectibles. Although I keep those up in the loft in a locked bookcase.”

  “Then there’s hope. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

  Holding her hand, Britt ventured up the stairs first, but even the carpet here was soggy, creating squishy noises as they ascended.

  “Do you think the stairs are safe?” Melody asked, tension rising in her throat.

  “Looks like they’re made out of hardwood and there’s a good railing so I think we’re fine,” Britt assured her.

  Melody raced to the tall shelves in the tiny reading loft, running her hands along the books and pulling some of them out. “There’s some water damage on the lower shelves but higher up the volumes look halfway decent.”

  She lifted her eyes to the ceiling where the plasterboard had rings of brown stains.

  “Got a roof leak, it looks like,” Britt said. “But it’s holding. Where’s your apartment?”

  “Through this door, although I’m embarrassed to show it to you. I hadn’t had time to clean in weeks and it also serves as my office for the bookstore so it probably looks like a cyclone tore through it.”

  “Cyclones or hurricanes?” Britt said with a smile. “Which is worse?”

  “Very funny.” Melody stepped through the door and gasped. “Oh, no.”

  Two windows on the south side had been blown out by the hurricane-force winds and most of the mess was from that. Papers were strewn everywhere, even plastered to the walls. Table lamps were lying broken on the floor. The pillows from the sofa had been thrown into the small kitchenette where the chairs were on their sides and the toaster lay forlorn in a corner.

  “This is depressing,” Melody said, putting a hand on one of the walls to steady herself.

  “Whoooee,” Britt whistled. “Here’s a filing cabinet upended.”

  “Those are my invoice and orders and tax papers. Hey, I can tell the IRS it was all destroyed in the hurricane of the year.”

  “See? There is a silver lining.”

  Melody couldn’t help laughing. “Leave it to you to look at the bright side. A lot of these papers and notes from my desk are unreadable,” she said, picking up the sheets from the floor and couch, hidden under the desk chair and sealed into corners. “How will I ever remember what they were?”

  “You’ll simply call your vendors and distributors and have them regenerate any recent paperwork. And if you have notes on orders or phone calls to return, those folks will just have to reorder and call you again to answer their questions.”

  “I need to get ahold of my assistant, Lucy Brignac. I hope she and her family are okay. I haven’t heard from her yet. There are dozens of phone calls to make.”

  “One step at a time. Call the insurance company and hurricane assessor about whether this place is even viable to live in. It’s an old building and needs to be inspected. The bookstore can wait.”

  “I’m glad I have a little bit of savings. Maybe I’ll call my sister for a loan,” she added as a joke.

  Britt lifted an eyebrow. “You mean Crystal?”

  “Yeah, that rock on her hand is probably worth a pretty penny.” Melody turned to give Britt a quirk of her mouth. “Kidding.”

  He chuckled. “I could tell.”

  “No, I meant Avery in Chicago. We’ve been texting ever since the storm hit land and I talked to her last night before Crystal came up for our little chat. I told her we’re safe, but she’s worried. Said she and her husband will come down to help me clean up, but I guess I’d better wait until the place has been officially inspected.”

  Melody righted one of the fallen kitchen chairs and sank into it, putting her hands over her eyes for a moment, and then sighed deeply, trying to muster her mental energy. “Right now, my wardrobe is sorely lacking. I’ll grab some clothes and my most important files stowed in the metal filing cabinet. I think they escaped the worst of it.”

  “While you do that, I’m going to do some structural damage assessment on my own. Tread carefully though. I’d never forgive myself if you stepped through a bad spot in the floor—and hit the bookstore floor below.”

  “You’re making me nervous now.”

  “I won’t be far away, but let’s leave in the next five minutes.”

  Britt returned to the downstairs store while Melody tugged a suitcase out from under the bed and began stuffing jeans and blouses, socks, extra shoes, sweaters and a couple of jackets into it.

  Flipping through her filing cabinet, she grabbed folders of outstanding orders and invoices, a list of her vendors and distributors and a few of her favorite old books. If this building had structural damage they couldn’t see, she might not be able to recover anything else for weeks.

  The beautiful old collectibles, water-logged and fallen off the shelves, broke her heart so badly she could barely breathe.

  Britt took the suitcase and shoulder bags from her while Melody turned in a circle, gazing at the destruction in a daze. “They’re like my children. My best friends. So many memories, so much heart and soul. What does the rest of the store look like?”

  “Um, not good, but I’m not an expert on foundations. We can just hope for the best. For now, we’d better leave before it gets dark,” Britt told her, putting an arm around her shoulders as they climbed back into the truck.

  “No, it’s clearly not safe.” Melody glanced at the clock on the dash. “I suppose it’s too late to try to drive out to my grandmother’s house.”

  “From the sound of the news reports, that part of town is still underwater a couple of feet. We don’t want to get stuck. Next time we come into the city we’ll go out there, I promise.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll try to get hold of a neighbor and find out the situation.”

  It was a quiet drive back to White Castle

  Britt cast a few glances at Melody as if to check her mental state, which she appreciated, but mostly she stared out the window as they drove slowly through the crowded roads of the city, shocked by the caved-in roofs and debris. Citizens wading through the last foot of water carrying garbage bags of belongings, on their way to shelters or out of the city altogether.

  “There are no words to describe this,” she said.

  Reaching across the seat, Britt squeezed her hand. “In a month, all this destruction will be bulldozed and new building begun. The aftermath is the most difficult.”

  Melody gave him a wan smile. “Once you’ve survived the storm and have escaped with your life.”

  Chapter 19

  When they reached White Castle, Britt deposited Melody’s belongings back in her room.

  “Hey, will you be okay if I leave you to make some phone calls?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just tired. Think I’ll go for a walk along the river.”

  “Enjoy yourself, but don’t overdo it. We’ve just had a very long day. Dinner in two hours?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll help.” Pulling on one of her light jackets, Melody headed down to the main level. Something was tickling at her brain, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Canceling her plans for a walk, she strode toward Britt’s office at the back of the stairs. “Do you know where the contents from previous owners of Nottingham would be stored?”

  He appeared at the doorway and Melody could hear the printer going. “You’d be amazed at how much there still is on the premises. Furniture was moved into the barns and sheds, but personal b
elongings and photographs are in the attic. Lots of things from the original family even. To get to the attic, return back up to the guest bedroom floor and walk to the end of the hall. There’s another set of steps behind a door that goes up to the attic.”

  Excitement fluttered in Melody’s chest. Original history was often difficult to find so this was amazing news. “Sounds like the house still needs a lot of cataloguing done.”

  “It’s on my list, but haven’t started that particular task yet. Could take months. There’s a light switch by the door.”

  “One more thing,” Melody went on. “Would you mind if I took your Lincoln Navigator to visit the parish county seat?”

  “It’s yours. Do whatever you need to. The keys are on the front entrance table.”

  Melody gazed at him, her eyes grazing his kind face, the confident stance and eager smile—and those powerfully amazing shoulders, which she tried not to linger on in case she melted into a puddle of hormonal goo on the antique carpets.

  “You’re pretty remarkable, Britt Mandeville,” she told him.

  “Ditto yourself, Melody.” He took a step closer, then stopped. “By the way, I loved your bookstore. I wanted to spend an hour perusing your history section, but I had to refrain in case the floor caved in on us.”

  A bubble of laughter came up her throat. “You’re pretty humorous, too, mister.”

  “You have gorgeous eyes,” he said, changing the subject in that lovely, deep voice of his.

  She tried to maintain her composure. “Okay, knock it off. I’ll see you in a while. Thanks for your help today. And for your car. And for a dry roof over my head.”

  Britt merely smiled that beautiful smile of his with those sparkling white teeth and kissable lips and took one slow step back toward his office.

  Melody wanted to sag against the wall. The vibes between them were getting stronger, and the unspoken attraction was scintillating and powerful—despite their efforts to keep their conversation solely on the topic of her damaged property in the city.