by Ben Marney
“I guess it should be, but it’s not,” she whispered. “When you touch me, kiss me, make love to me...as a woman, I have to know that you are feeling me...and only me. And...when I touch you and I feel that shock inside of my body...I have to know...is that coming from me or is that somehow coming from her? I know that may sound crazy and foolish, but I can’t help the way I feel.”
She stared up into my eyes. “There are so many reasons to fall for you, but until I know for sure...I don’t think I can.”
“Melissa, I’m doing my best to understand, but I don’t know how we will ever know the truth about this.”
“Grant, I’ve known there’s something special about you since the day Molly ran up to you on the beach. It was how you lit up the second you saw her, the way you looked at her, the way you talked to her. You were a complete stranger, but I instantly knew you were meant to be a part of our lives, a big part. And I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you since then. I truly believe that everything we’ve done, all we’ve shared together was meant to be. But now that we know about my connection to Rita...where we go from here...to be honest, I just don’t know, but something inside of me feels different.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to her. My feelings for her had not changed. I knew I loved her, but I couldn’t lie to myself, either. When I touched her now and felt that shock, I instantly thought about Rita. I took her hands in mine and smiled. “I know I love you and I’m supposed to be part of your life, so how about this? Let’s just take things slow from here on and see where it goes. Something brought me here to you and I believe the love we have for each other will someday, somehow, make everything clear to us.”
We followed that plan and over the next few months our relationship flourished, spending as much time as we could together. We had date nights almost every weekend and always spent Sundays with Molly, either playing on the beach or just hanging out. We never once talked about the continuing sparks, shocks and tingly sensations we always felt when we touched. I wasn’t sure about her, but I had hoped that they would eventually go away, but they never did. I did learn how to not react when they happened.
The Beverly Beach Project was going great. It was on schedule and so far, under budget. It was a huge project that kept me hopping. It had become almost more than I could handle, but I got lucky and found a great assistant to help me stay organized. I met her by accident...well, sort of. It was another one of those Charley things.
My office was located in the heart of Saint Augustine’s historic district. It was literally surrounded by great restaurants. After trying most of them, I soon found my favorite three or four to have lunch. The main requirements were good food, quick service and they had to be dog friendly, because Charley was usually with me. It was never my decision of which restaurant we went to; that was up to Charley. I would just follow behind him holding on to his leash and he would take me where he wanted to go.
The day I met Annabelle, my assistant, Charley didn’t lead me to one of our regular lunch spots. Instead, he drug me almost a mile, with me complaining behind him all the way. He took me to O.C. White’s. We’d been there before, but it was too far away from my office, so it wasn’t one of our regular lunch hangouts.
When I realized where he was taking me, I pulled on his leash to make him stop and look at me. “O.C. White’s? Why here, Charley? They’re always packed and their service is too slow. I don’t have time for this today. I need to get back to the office,”
He stared up at me. “Woof.” Then he turned and continued walking, pulling me behind him.
When we got to the entrance to the outside patio, I stopped, let go of his leash and started to ask the hostess if she had an open table. Charley didn’t wait for the answer and walked past the hostess to an empty table near the back.
The hostess laughed and motioned for me to follow Charley. “We have several open tables, but it looks like he wants to sit there.”
I smiled at her, shrugged my shoulders and walked to the table Charley was now sprawled under. Although there were five or six tables available that were not surrounded by other diners, apparently Charley wanted me to sit there, in the middle of the most crowded area on the patio.
When I reached to pull out a chair, he stood up and growled at me. “What? You don’t want me to sit down?”
He looked over at the chair behind the table and barked. “You want me to sit back there?” He gave me his goofy smile and laid back down.
I actually had to slide the table forward a little to get the chair out far enough to sit down. I was only inches away from a group of young college girls sitting behind me.
When the waitress came, I bent down and read out loud to Charley his choices. When I got to what he wanted, he barked his approval. This did not go unnoticed.
“No way!” I heard someone say behind me. It was one of the college girls. She was staring down at Charley. “He didn’t really do that, did he?”
I smiled and looked at her. “Do what?”
“Did he tell you what he wanted?” she asked.
“Sure. He loves carrots, so he chose the chicken.” I said nonchalantly.
That started the whole thing. The next thing I knew, the girls had pulled their chairs over to my table and were making a fuss over Charley. That’s when I knew something was up, because he just stood there smiling, letting them pet him. That was not his normal reaction to strangers who tried to pet him.
“Who has the birthday?” I asked, pointing at what was left of a cake on their table.
“That’s not a Birthday cake, it’s a celebration cake for Annabelle,” one of the girls said.
I introduced Charley to them and got their names as well. “Well then, congratulations, Annabelle,” I said smiling, holding up my Coke toasting her, “What are we celebrating?”
Her face lit up. “I just graduated college. Finally!” she said.
“Wow! That is something to celebrate. Did you graduate from Flagler University?” I asked.
“No,” she said shyly. “I wish. I went to Appalachian State University. That’s in Boone, North Carolina. That’s where I’m from. I’m just here visiting my friends.”
“What was your major?” When I asked that, her friends burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”
She dropped her head, embarrassed. “My major wasn’t what you might think. That’s why they’re laughing. They all think it’s a dumb major.”
“How can any major be dumb?” I said. “You got a college degree, right? So tell me, what was your major?”
“Construction management. But I also got a minor in business.”
Her friends laughed again, but I didn’t. “So what are you planning on doing with your degree?”
“That’s really why I’m here in Florida,” She said. “There are limited opportunities in North Carolina, especially for a woman in the construction industry. I’m hoping that here in Florida, I could get a job working with a large construction company, maybe starting out as an estimator or whatever. My goal is to one day become a project manager on a large construction project.”
Her words were not spoken with confidence and her body language screamed her shyness and reluctance to talk about herself. It was almost as if she was embarrassed to tell me her goals. And her friends didn’t make it any easier for her, with their snickering and constant eye rolls.
Annabelle excused herself and went to the ladies room, leaving me alone with her friends. I turned and looked at them. “So, what are ‘your’ majors?” I asked with a smile.
They were all attending Flagler University. Two of the four were theater art majors, one was majoring in graphic design and one was studying psychology.
Trying my best not to sound too condescending, I said, “So you two want to be movie stars, you want to design websites and you want to be a guidance counselor?”
They looked at each other and shrugged, but I got no responses from any of them.
“How do you know Annabell
e?” I asked.
“We grew up together,” the two theater arts majors said. “We went to the same high school.”
“She’s been your friend a long time, right?”
They smiled and shook their heads. “Yes,” the graphic design major said, “she’s one of our best friends.”
I leaned back in my chair and shrugged my shoulders. “Then I don’t get it. I know we just met and it’s really none of my business, but if she’s one of your lifelong friends, why are you all making fun of her and hurting her feelings like this? I don’t understand what’s so funny here. Personally, I’d bet she’s going to do really well with her degree.”
“In construction?” they all said in perfect unison.
I smiled and nodded, “Yes, in construction. Florida is booming these days.”
When Annabelle got back and sat down, I checked my watch. I’d been there almost an hour and needed to get back to work. I stood, walked to the table they were sitting at before they slid over to mine, and grabbed their check.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Annabelle said, reaching for the check in my hand. “We’re gonna split this between us.”
I pulled the check back out of her reach and smiled. “Please, it’s my pleasure. Consider this as my graduation gift to you.”
They all thanked me profusely. “That’s so nice of you,” Annabelle said, “But we don’t even know your name. We know Charley’s, but not yours.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my business card and handed it to Annabelle. “It’s Grant, Grant Nash. Ahhh, look, Annabelle, I have to get back to my office, but when you get finished here, I would like you to come by there. It’s only a few blocks away. I would like to talk to you. I may be able to help you on your job search.”
Her jaw dropped when she read my card. “You’re an architect?” she said with wide eyes. “Are you serious? You know someone who might give me a job?”
I grinned as I clipped the leash to Charley’s collar. “Yes, I just might know someone. Come see me later and we’ll talk about it.”
It was almost an hour before my office doorbell rang. I hit the intercom button to unlock the door and told her to come in. “Go get her,” I said to Charley, who was standing at the top of the stairs wagging his tail. I heard her laughing when he ran down the stairs to greet her.
“What a beautiful office,” she said when she walked in the room. “Is this only for you? You work here alone?”
“Hang on one second, I need to send this to the printer. Have a seat,” I said, pointing at the couch.
When the printer started making noise, I stood up from behind my work station and walked over to her. “Yes, I’m sort of a one-man shop. Would you like something to drink? Follow me, I’ll give you the five cent tour.”
After I showed her around the office, I got her a Coke, poured myself a cup of coffee, and we settled around the meeting table. “What do you think of this?” I tapped the plans to the Beverly Beach Project that were spread out on the table. She looked down and began studying them, flipping through the pages slowly.
When she finished, she looked across the table at me. “Are these your designs, your drawings?”
I nodded. “Yes. What do you think?”
For the next hour, she grilled me on every aspect of my designs. I expected most of her questions, because they were obvious, but I didn’t expect some of her others. It didn’t take me long to realize that this small town girl from Boone, North Carolina knew her stuff.
“Where did you learn all of that?” I asked her with a grin. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in college.”
Her eyes lit up. “My father was a contractor. He built houses and a few small office buildings around Boone, so I grew up around construction sites. I’m an only child. Dad was hoping for a boy, but got me instead. So, I grew up playing with toy hammers and saws, instead of Barbie dolls. I was an expert at taping and floating sheetrock at ten years old and knew how to handle a skill saw as good as anyone.”
That day, I learned Annabelle’s father had a heart attack when she was seventeen, her senior year of high school, and had to close down his construction business. After she graduated, she wanted to go away to college, but her parents couldn’t afford it, so she applied to Appalachian State University there in Boone.
“Because it was a local, I received a special rate,” she said. “At first I was disappointed, not getting to go away to college like my friends, but I soon grew to love Appalachian State. And when I saw they offered a degree in construction management, it just seemed to be a natural fit for me.”
I leaned back in my chair and smiled at her. “I think you made a very wise decision.”
For the past few months, I had been talking to Les about hiring an assistant if I could find one qualified, so I hired Annabelle on the spot.
With her incredible organizational skills and uncanny ability to spot potential problems, within months, she had the Beverly Beach Project whipped into shape and every detail in its proper place. With her taking care of all the tedious required paperwork for the permits and help with organizing the timing schedules of the different trades and sub-contractors, the project progressed without a hitch.
I know that some of you may find this hard to believe, but I hired Annabelle because first, Charley obviously wanted me to and took me to her and second, because of her skills. The fact that she was a young, beautiful woman never entered my mind. As silly as it sounds, I was so wrapped up and busy with the Beverly Beach Project, I never paid any attention to what she looked like...but apparently Melissa had.
That became very obvious the day I invited her over to my house to spend a day on the beach with Melissa, Molly and me. Again, being oblivious to her appearance, I paid no attention to what she was wearing when she showed up, but when we got everything set up on the beach and she took off her coverup, exposing the tiny pink bikini underneath...I noticed. Her perfectly proportioned, muscular toned body was stunning. Around me at work, she had always dressed very conservatively and until that moment, I honestly had no idea she had a body like that.
To make matters worse, I opened up my big mouth and asked if she had ever been a dancer or something.
With her amazing body glistening in the sun, shining from the sun tan lotion I had watched her apply, she looked up at me, smiled and said, “Yes, I took ballet when I was young and I was a gymnast in high school and college.”
I wanted to say, “Well no wonder you’re so smoking hot”, but thank God I didn’t. Instead I just smiled and forced myself to look away. When I did, I made eye contact with Melissa, but to my surprise, she wasn’t giving me a dirty look, she was grinning.
Molly instantly fell madly in love with Annabelle and for the rest of the afternoon, Melissa and I watched the two of them play together like children, building sand castles, splashing and laughing in the surf.
After Annabelle went home and Molly went inside to take her shower, Melissa and I had our first real conversation about her. It was a conversation that completely baffled me.
“You two make a cute couple.” She said with no real emotions showing on her face.
“Couple? For God’s sake, Melissa, she’s only 22 or 23 years old. I’m not attracted to her. She’s way too young for me! You have nothing to worry about.”
“Did I say I was worried? But I’m not blind, Grant. I saw the way you were looking at her. You almost swallowed your gum.”
I started laughing, put my arms around her and kissed her, “I wasn’t chewing gum.”
She tried to pull away, but I held her tightly in my arms. “It’s a good thing you weren’t. You might have choked to death.”
That night we made love for the first time in weeks, and I did everything I could to try to convince her that she had nothing to worry about when it came to Annabelle.
“I didn’t hire her for her looks. I hired her because she’s really good at what she does, and she is doing an amazing job for me.”
“Grant, rela
x. I’m not worried about Annabelle. I really like her. She’s wonderful. I will admit to being a little jealous of her body. She looks like a friggin’ Victoria’s Secret model. And me with all my scars....”
“Look at me,” I said. “I’m in love with you, not her. You have to know that by now, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, but...”
“There’re no buts. I love you. It’s just that simple.”
That’s what I told her that night and I meant it. But from that day forward, things began to change and our lives weren’t so simple.
18
The Mark Of The Devil
Staring at his reflection from the glistening door of his brand new black Jaguar, Dr. Jeremiah Ashford Hollingsworth adjusted his tie and smoothed back his hair. In the mirrored walls of the elevator, riding up to his penthouse office suite, he checked his appearance once more. When he was sure everything was perfect, he stepped out of the elevator and walked quickly past his receptionist.
“Good morning,” he chirped, nodding his head as he walked past.
In his office, he sat down behind the very large, one of a kind, designer glass and bronze desk and checked his phone messages. There were only three. One from the general manager of his country club, letting him know that his dues were late again, and two from his banker demanding a return call.
“Dr. Hollingsworth?” He looked up from the message to see his receptionist standing in his doorway.
“I’m sorry to have to bring this up,” she said nervously, holding a small piece of paper in her hand, “but my paycheck bounced.”
“That’s impossible!” he shouted. “Run it through again. The bank must have made a mistake.”
Her hand trembled, as she held up the check, “I tried, but my bank said it’s written on an account that has insufficient funds. They said I need to have you write me another check from a different account.”
He jumped out of his chair and rushed up to her. “Give me that!” he shouted, jerking the check out of her hand. “I’ll take care of it. Go back to your desk.”