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“Coming right up.” Laura held out her palm. Giggling, Jeanie took it, and hand in hand they walked into the kitchen.
The two ladies donned matching aprons, retrieved the ingredients and set to work. After a satisfying breakfast in which Jeanie “helped” her splatter batter all over the table, floor and ceiling fan, they changed again, into less batter-filled clothing. Despite the nearly unsurmountable urge to stay in the house with her daughter, safe and secure from the outside world and the man who ruled it, Laura had no choice but to venture out. She had a flurry of activities planned, from buying Jeanie some much-needed clothing (how do kids grow so fast) to volunteering with her daughter at the children’s library.
Once they left, the hours passed quickly. First, they enjoyed a play date at the local playground, which involved a lively game of tag, endless “just five more minutes” and an amount of sand in her hair that would probably take two weeks to fully eradicate. They then set off for a pizza party with the little girl's ballet class, where the kids and adults had a raucous discussion on whether jellybeans belonged on pizza (final verdict:absolutely). After that, they crisscrossed the small town, did their volunteering and completed their errands. Throughout it all, Aidan occasionally made his way into Laura’s thoughts, as if his power somehow extended to the psychic. Okay, perhaps it was slightly more than occasionally. Well, really, most of the time. Fine, all the time, but only because of her daughter. It certainly had nothing to do with soulful eyes, rock solid muscles or power that couldn’t be denied.
After they finished their activities, Laura traveled to her parents' house to drop off Jeanie. She hated leaving her child two days in a row, but if Aidan cast eyes on his miniature doppelganger, not even the bogeyman could save her. Leaving Jeanie in the most capable hands of beloved Grandma Beatrix, who already had chocolate chip cookie ingredients prepared, Laura hurried to her father's bedroom, where he spent most of his time since his last heart attack.
She stilled at the threshold to the darkened chamber. The room smelled like antiseptic and gloom, the air heavy and stale. She suppressed raw pain at the man on the bed, her shock at his drawn-in features and stark weakness never diminishing, even as the days and weeks passed. It didn't need to be like this, the doctors claimed, citing depression and lack of activity as the true culprit in his inability to regain his strength and health. Although their relationship had been strained for a while – since the day she decided to become a single mother –she couldn't abandon the once robust man who had taken her on wild piggyback rides and ice cream shop extravaganzas.
"It's way too dark in here." She strode to the curtains, lightly coated with dust as a testament to how long they’d been closed, and reached to open them.
A gravelly voice stopped her, "Don't."
She clenched the thick brocade fabric in her hands. A moment later, she turned back to her father, the barrier to the outside still firmly in place. "You can't stay shut in here forever."
"I can stay until my twelfth heart attack if I want," he shot back, settling back into the thick down pillows. He reached for a glass of cloudy liquid by his bed; unable to get it, he collapsed down, exhausted from the attempt. "It'll just happen again."
Laura closed her eyes, sorrow washing over her like a tidal wave. How could she make him understand? She forced her eyes open and strode to the bed. "It doesn't have to happen again." She handed the glass to him. He grasped it with shaky fingers, large hands that used to play tickle monster. "The doctors say another heart attack is very preventable with the right lifestyle changes and proper medication. You can get back in shape if you want, but only if you get out of this bed. Are you doing the exercises the doctors suggested? They said it could really help–"
"If I wanted a nurse, I'd pay for one!" he wheezed, holding up a bony hand. "As I recall, you weren't too happy when I questioned your choices."
Familiar anger seized her, endless frustration and breath-stealing pain. Before she could stop herself, she responded. "Do you wish I didn’t have Jeanie?"
"Of course not. I love that little sprite!" Her father turned red, apparently embarrassed by his own outburst. Laura couldn't stop a rush of joy at his declaration of love, no matter how unintentional. It died at his next words. "It's just not right to raise a child as a single mom. It's not fair to-"
"I'm not going through this again." She rubbed her forehead, as the wall clock ticked the hour, a bright green circle with rotating golf clubs instead of hands. Yet another lost pastime. "I have to go. Can I get you something?" she asked simply.
He seemed poised to say more, something important, something meaningful, but when he spoke, his voice was even and resigned. "I guess not. Tell Jeanie to stop in on her old grandpa when they finish cookie creation. She promised me a checkers rematch."
Laura nodded, amidst a thousand unsaid words, the urge to say more,domore. She strode from the room.
Yet something was different as she drove home. Beyond the emotionally draining visit, a sliver of hope sparked. Perhaps because Jeanie might get her own father/daughter relationship, for the first time in years, something urged her to try again with her father, to not simply accept the contentious relationship. If there was hope for Jeanie and Aidan, perhaps there was hope for them, too.
Laura reluctantly pushed aside thoughts of her father as she arrived home, embarking on the mental and physical preparation for the night’s festivities. She showered with rose-vanilla body wash, then tried on half her closet, and then the other half, dozens of outfits, ranging from business-casual to formal to everything in between. Finally, she chose a tea-length, silk gown with a sweetheart bodice, fitted waist and skirt brilliant with shimmering beads. It hugged her figure like a tight glove, accentuating ample curves and outliningeverything. A tiny topaz solitaire sat nestled above her breasts, with two simple silver bracelets encircling her wrists.
She let her hair cascade freely down her back, adorned by an elegant mother-of-pearl comb just above her ear. She stepped before the mirror, stared at the curvaceous woman who stared boldly back. If she was going to be with the handsome Mr. Bancroft all night, at least she was dressed for the part.
With a deep breath, she set off on her journey. She traveled winding roads, as the sun sank slowly towards its bedtime, bathing the world in twilight’s shadow. Millions of thoughts and mere minutes later, she reachedThe Enchanted. And enchanted it was.
Swirling curves etched whimsical designs on cream-colored walls, with towers that scraped the sky, in an elegant three-story eatery more a small palace than a restaurant. Rounded pillars stood guard on each side, beyond large windows that revealed an elegant interior with golden decorations and large chandeliers of cascading cut crystal.The Enchantedwas better known than the town itself, drawing visitors from near and far, catering events from local baby showers to celebrity weddings. It was the brainchild of a celebrity, who wanted to prove he could build a high-class establishment anywhere. Even the world-traveled Aidan Bancroft was sure to be impressed.
Laura parked in the rapidly filling lot, then passed through huge double doors carved with blooming roses, lilies and love-in-a-mist. She entered a double height foyer with a gilded domed ceiling, before ascending a grand, red-carpeted stairway. Detailed paintings spanned walls of spun gold, whimsical fairy-tales of beauty and happy endings. At the top of the stairs, the ballroom beckoned, a breathtaking chamber with rounded tables covered in chiffon and blown glass vases bursting with white calla lilies. The flowers scented the room, which was set to the lilting melody of a five-piece band.
Due to the early hour, only a sprinkling of guests had arrived, the Who’s Who of Pine Ridge as well as less local figures. Surprisingly, several members of the Miami media were also present, a stark reminder of Aidan's true status in life. Laura strode to the bar and ordered a ridiculously expensive glass of Chablis, a splurge for her scattered nerves. Only it wasn’t necessary, as the waiter declined payment, explaining that the entire function was sponsored by Mr. Bancroft. Of course. He could probably afford to buy the restaurant.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Blake.”
Her breath disappeared.
The voice originated from mere inches away, and it rolled over her skin, casting static tingles. Her heart slammed against her ribs, shortening her breath and numbing the world.Stay calm.She couldn’t deal with him if emotion took over. She could be as controlled as he, as calm, as powerful. Too much was at stake, and if she gave at all, he would take control in an instant.Of everything.
She turned, yet keeping control turned into an even more arduous task, an almost impossible feat. Because…
The bogeyman himself, Aidan Bancroft, had arrived.
Chapter 3
He was even more gorgeous than she remembered. The strong and commanding body, the classic and handsome face, the deep penetrating eyes. She stood still as the winter midnight, frozen at his deep perusal.
