by Daria White
Lance bobbed his head. “I’m sorry about your husband. Thank you for the kind words.”
She smiled. “I won’t disturb you anymore.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t. I’m glad there are marriages out here to inspire us.”
She nodded. “I wish I could say it was my first and only, but I divorced in my early twenties. It’s a sad reality, but I’m grateful I was given a second chance.”
Second chance. Was this his second chance? Andrea had to be his forever. They’d come too far in their relationship.
Once they landed, he exited the plane and gathered his bags at baggage claim. He got a taxi despite the bustle of New York. Upon arrival at his hotel, he tipped the driver and entered the hotel lobby.
Lance checked in with the receptionist and carried his bags to the elevator. His ride to the sixth floor was alone. The elevator dinged in the background and he smiled at how Chantelle hated elevator music. His muscles relaxed at the thought of her. Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea as he walked down the hallway searching for his number plate.
Spotting his room number, he used his key card and opened the door. Once he closed it behind him, he sighed. Then his phone rang—his mother. He figured another missed call wouldn’t sit well with her, so he answered.
“I’m not working with June Myers.”
“I see,” his mother said. “According to her, you yelled when you fired her.”
“I don’t recall yelling. If I did, it was to get her attention. The woman talks like a horse racing at the Kentucky Derby.”
His mother huffed. “Lance! I can’t believe you would be that unprofessional with a top celebrity wedding planner.”
“Look, I didn’t like what she presented. She cut me off. She cut Chantelle—”
“Chantelle? You took Chantelle with you? Why?” His mother asked.
“She’s profiling the wedding.”
“I don’t want gossip to spread around about you two. Almost everyone in Delta Heights knows your history with her. Try to minimize your time with her, please?”
“I have a meeting in the morning. Can we talk about this later?”
“Lance I—”
He hung up. Despite her calling back, he didn’t answer. He felt trapped. The walls were closing in on him. Lance walked over to the small couch in his room. Plopping down in the seat, he rested his head back on the chair. He inhaled and exhaled.
***
Chantelle’s manicured fingers typed at the keyboard. Her notes were coming along about Lance. She shared about his family life, and how he became a pivotal person in the community of Delta Heights.
Her eyes scanned along the tabloid magazines next to her. Her stomach soured at the gossip about him and Andrea. Where was the bride? Would there be a wedding? Was there trouble in paradise?
She had to admit Lance was right. Between the press and social media, it compromised Lance’s privacy. All he wanted was a small wedding with Andrea and their families and friends. Yet, it spiraled out of control. Now he was trying to regain it.
Lance wasn’t happy. Even she could tell. His scrunched face and his clenched jaw proved it.
Then again, her chest swelled when he fired June Myers. The woman’s fair skin turned beet red. He walked out the door without a flinch.
Chantelle could have kissed him. Kiss him? She swallowed the moisture in her mouth. Proceeding with her notes, she wrote about Lance losing his sister. Not wanting to dwell on the past, she highlighted how Lance organized a foundation in Amelia’s name to grant scholarships to athletic students along with a few academies.
Her eyebrows raised. She could ask him that. It didn’t pertain to his personal life with Andrea. Chantelle checked her phone again. He was only an hour ahead of her and it was 8:30 P.M. She bit on her bottom lip for a moment, but decided to FaceTime Lance. The phone rang in her ears like a drum.
He answered. “Chantelle?” He dabbed the back of his head with a towel.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can call back later or we can talk when you get back.”
“No, it’s fine. Is something wrong?” He asked.
For a moment, she lost herself in his eyes. Using her free hand to pinch herself, she said, “Nothing’s wrong, but I wanted to see if you could answer a few questions.”
“You want to interview now?”
“I think you’ll like this.”
He sighed and sat on his hotel bed. “What is it?”
“I was going over my notes and I want to include the foundation.”
“My sister? Why?”
“I think it’ll be a good angle. You don’t talk about it, but I think the public needs to know more.”
He rubbed his face. “That’s a tough one.”
She should have known it was difficult for him to talk about his sister. “I know you don’t want to get too personal. Forget I said anything.”
“No, wait a minute.” He waved his free hand as if to dismiss her comment. “What do you want to know?”
“How important the foundation is to you. The media portrays you as an easy going bachelor who’s the face of his father’s firm, but this will show more of you.”
He bobbed his head. “You have your recorder?”
She took it out and hit the record button. “Ready when you are?”
He exhaled. “Losing my sister was tragic. We thought she would go all the way to the Olympics, but we lost her. Some talented athletes are in our cities and neighborhoods can’t afford the training they need to take them all the way in the sport of their choice.”
“So, you created Amelia’s Foundation to help?” She wrote on her notepad.
“She had the opportunities that other kids don’t. So, we take in applications and help them with funds to support their dreams. ”
Chantelle asked. “What about students on the academic side?”
“We don’t discount them. Amelia’s Foundation is not limited to kids wanting to go to the Olympics. Kids in sports are the primary focus, but I know not everyone plays sports, so we try to be as inclusive as possible. We take their applications too for those who want to pursue education. Not everyone wins, but they are on our radar for the future.”
Chantelle wrote down his last quote. “Anything else you’d like to share about it?”
He scratched at his chin. “I think… it’s okay to dream. Sure, sometimes we have to be realistic and take responsibility for what's in front of us, but don’t kill a child’s dream. Amelia dreamed big, and even in her death, she inspired others to do the same.”
Nodding in agreement, Chantelle stopped the recording. “That was incredible.”
“It was your idea.” He smiled.
“I hope I didn’t open an old wound.” She stood to her feet with her phone in hand and walked to her bed.
“You didn’t. Every day gets a little easier.”
She pulled her lips into a thin line. Her father crossed her mind. “I hope so.”
“Thinking about your dad?” Lance asked.
She wouldn’t cry. Despite the time that had passed, he knew that was still a sore spot for her. “A little.”
“I’m here if you ever want to talk.” He raised his free hand in the air. “Judgement free.”
Chantelle gave half a smile. “I’m trying to open up more to my stepdad.”
“He’s not a terrible guy. I can tell he loves your mother.”
She rubbed at her eyebrow. “I know he does. He’s just…”
“Not your dad.”
She bobbed her head. “I only need more time. That’s all.”
Lance rubbed at his chin. “My father won’t even talk about Amelia. One mention of her name and his stare is as cold as ice.”
Chantelle touched her stomach. Her breathing slowed as another memory took over. “Can I ask you something?”
He smiled. “Off the record?”
She returned the gesture. “Yes. Off the record.”
“Sure.”
“What… names did you have in mind?”
Lance squished his eyebrows. Then his eyes widened as if he realized what she was asking. “Chantelle, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She slouched in bed. “I can’t believe I said that.” She covered her face with her free hand. “Never mind. Forget I asked. Let’s talk about—”
“Ciara,” he said.
Chantelle sat up. He was serious. “Ciara? You wanted a girl?”
He bobbed his head.
“I did too. Honestly... I thought about naming her... after your sister.”
Lance’s eyes beamed, but then he looked away. “I have to get up in the morning, so I’ll see you when I get back to Delta Heights.”
“Okay, sure. I hope the meeting goes well.” They needed to hang up.
“Me too. Goodnight, Chantelle.”
“Goodnight, Lance. Thanks for listening.”
“You’re welcome.”
With that, she hung up, and his face disappeared. Chantelle reclined in bed, nuzzling her face in the pillows.
Chapter 16
Sounds muffled under the carpet as the room cleared of the board members. Lance blew out his cheeks as he gathered his papers and placed them back inside his briefcase. Mr. Bramble stalked over to him. His thick salt-pepper eyebrows rose and his smile grew.
“Outstanding presentation, Lance,” he said, extending his hand. “Your father would be proud.”
He bobbed his head, though the churning in his stomach didn’t go away. The contract he presented called for twenty percent in cutbacks. Almost half of the employees at Bramble Inc. would lose their jobs in order for the deal to close.
“Mr. Bramble, you trust my judgment?” Lance asked.
“Your father says this deal can take us further than we could ever imagine.” His sea-foam green eyes lit up.
Lance cleared his throat. “I’m all about closing deals, and even though I’ve presented this to you and the board, is it something you’re willing to go through with?”
Mr. Bramble chuckled. “Your father warned me about this.” He patted Lance’s back. “Don’t worry. Our employees will receive their pension. Business is business. It’s nothing personal. You know that.”
Lance swallowed back the snarky comment that danced on the tip of his tongue. “I understand. Thank you for taking time to see me.” He left the stuffy room.
Coming to the elevators, Lance’s skin prickled. He never enjoyed closing deals on behalf of his father without a care of who lost their employment. Sure, he grew up with money. He had been the envy of his classmates growing up, but he took it upon himself to see how the average person lived.
Lance worked through college, only using his trust funds to pay for school and supplies. Anything else, he paid on his own. Watching the rest of his classmates in work-study programs and sports scholarships, Amelia’s foundation was born. His father, though reluctant to the idea, agreed to invest in the first winner of the grant and scholarship money. Ever since then, Lance appreciated the value of a dollar.
Exiting the elevator to the main lobby of Bramble Inc. didn’t ease the twinge in his chest. Once outside, he heard the hustle and bustle of New York. Multi lane traffic, horns honking, along with food trucks and cart vendors. Heels clacked on the sidewalk and he called for a taxi.
Directing the driver to his hotel, he settled into the worn seat. Local music played on the radio, and Lance pulled out his cell to check his messages. He had a voicemail from his father. He didn’t want to listen to it. How could the man mistrust him to the point of giving Mr. Bramble a heads up about him? Were morals and integrity so bad in business?
Lance shut his eyes for a second once back inside his hotel room. He didn’t fit into the corporate world. It was becoming clear as parts of a tree in the morning sun. Where was his heart? Amelia’s Foundation.
BUZZ. BUZZ. Lance grabbed his phone. Andrea. He gave a slight smile. “How are you?”
“I talked my agent into giving me some time off.”
He sat up on his bed. “That’s great.”
“I can’t confirm dates yet, but I’ll be able to visit soon.”
“Thanks Babe.”
“I didn’t realize my career was getting in the way of us. I do love you.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I love you too.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night. All I remember as a kid was my mother’s film career drove my father away. She told me she was ambitious, and he just didn’t understand her.” Andrea exhaled. “I don’t know why I compared you to him.”
“You thought I would leave you?”
“It crossed my mind, but I don’t want to bring baggage into our relationship. Lance... my mother didn’t teach me how to be in a giving relationship. She was too afraid of others taking from her that—”
“She taught you to do the same.”
“Exactly. I... I don’t want to do that. Not with you. You’re right. If we’re going to do this, we both have to be committed.”
Lance’s chest fluttered. “Thank you.”
“Sometimes I wish this wedding was over.”
Lance bit his lip. “What if we eloped?”
“What?” Andrea giggled. “My mother would have a heart attack!”
“Mine would too.” Lance stood and paced the floor.
“I’ll be there soon. We’re almost there, so let’s stay the course. At the end, we’ll both get what we want.”
Lance paused. “I know.”
“I have to go. I’m meeting my assistant in a few minutes. Hopefully my sleep tonight is better than last night.”
“Goodnight, Babe.”
“Not quite for me, but goodnight.”
Lance hung up and pressed the phone to his lips. Eloping. If he and Andrea took off the town would have a fit, not to mention the press. Social media already circled rumors that Andrea was pregnant, which led Lance to propose to her. Thankfully, that rumor proved false when Andrea attended the Academy Awards in a fitted emerald green dress with no signs of a baby bump.
Baby. Ciara. Lance closed his eyes, blocking out the baby gurgles he had imagined he would hear. Either way, boy or girl, a healthy child was all he had prayed for. Looking upward at the ceiling, he hoped his baby was happy in Heaven.
His heart swelled, wondering if Amelia met his baby. He didn’t tell Chantelle this in their last conversation. Lance tried to stop her, but when she asked about baby names, he couldn’t help remembering.
***
The following day, Lance stared at the TV on the wall of his room. While he did some sightseeing, especially enjoying Times Square, all he wanted now was food and his bed. The job was done in New York. His flight would leave early the next morning, so jet lag was inevitable. He held the room service menu, perusing his choices. Burger? Chicken salad sandwich? Caesar salad?
Grabbing the telephone, he placed an order for a burger and fries. Lance could work it off later at the gym. He sat back on the bed, his body sinking into the pillows.
He heard kids running down the hallway outside his room, while traffic and construction occurred outside on the street. Lance relaxed in his soft bed besides the noise. Though accustomed to the serene sounds of Delta Heights, he could adjust to his environment. With heavy eyelids, his head drooped to his chin.
He shot upright at the sound of his cell ringing. Groaning, he scurried to find it, only to spot it next to him in bed. His father called again.
“Well,” his father said, with a hint of sarcasm. “I don’t have to ask how the meeting went, do I?”
“You’ve already talked with Mr. Bramble.”
His father sighed. “I did, only to give him a heads up.”
“You didn’t think I could handle it?”
“I know what you’re capable of, Lance. I know how hard you work. It doesn’t go unnoticed. The deal’s in the bag. Right?”
Lance rubbed at his chin. He had to try again. “I think too many will lose their jobs. I think we need
to find an alternative.”
“Son, we’ve already—”
“A man shouldn’t have to worry how he’ll feed his kids.”
“We’re in a business. We help companies so they can turn a profit.”
“We’re also a business that deals with people. This is their livelihood.”
“And mine. Yours too. We can’t save everyone.”
Lance’s pulse quickened. “So that’s it?”
“I told you. We’re not responsible for everyone.”
He heard a knock at the door, alerting Lance his order had arrived. “I need to go.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
Lance didn’t bother to tell his father goodbye. He tossed his phone on the bed and answered the door. Tipping the waiter, he shut the door after placing the Do Not Disturb sign on his door handle. He made himself comfortable at the desk table with his meal. Lance bit into his burger.
He chewed, but the flavor in his mouth did nothing to lift his spirits. A sinking sensation overwhelmed his stomach, but he ate his meal, hoping to relieve the gnawing inside.
He called Andrea. Hearing her voice would help, but he got her voicemail. He left a message after clearing his throat. “Hey.” Lance rubbed his forehead. “I hope you’re having a good day. I’m heading back to Delta Heights. Let me know your plans. Love you.” He hung up and discarded his trash.
After showering and changing for bed, he reclined against the padded headboard. He held the remote, flipping through the channels. Nothing struck his interest, not even the sports commentary. Perhaps he needed to sleep since it had been a long day already. Then his phone rang again. Andrea had to be calling back. He answered without removing his eyes from the TV.
“Hey. I hope you’re not too busy, but I wanted to give you an update on what I have so far.”
Lance checked the screen. “Chantelle?”
“Is this a bad time?” She asked.
“No, you’re fine. I wasn’t expecting your call.” He gave half a smile. “Go ahead.”
“Well… so far I have how you and Andrea met and how you proposed. I’ve included Amelia’s Foundation and how that started.”