Authors: Donna Hill
Chapter 4
C
arl Hampton entered the office building on Madison Avenue in midtown Manhattan and stepped onto the elevator. Hampton Inc. was located on the twentieth floor of the turn-of-the-century building and boasted an incredible view of the Big Apple, one of the reasons he’d chosen the location nearly fifteen years earlier.
Since he launched his investment company, he’d seen the country’s unstable economy topple one business after another. But one thing he’d learned early on was to diversify. His assets and his sights were set on an array of enterprises and opportunities, and he’d amassed enough money to live the way he wanted. It also allowed him to indulge in his pet passion—art. The white-walled reception area of Hampton Inc. was lined with original artwork from around the world. Each of the dozen offices housed at least one treasured piece.
The elevator door opened and his receptionist, Denise, jumped to attention.
“Good morning, Mr. Hampton.”
He murmured something in his throat and breezed by her.
Jake Foxx, one of his investment brokers, stopped him in the corridor.
“Carl, we really need to talk. The lawyers and the accountants need to know what you want to do about that loft thing. We need to get the papers filed and decide what to do with the property.”
Carl cut his eyes at Jake. “Do you think that perhaps I can get into my office before you bombard me with what
you
need?” he asked with deadly calm. “I pay the accountants, the lawyers and you to take care of things. So take care of them.” He walked off and into his office, slamming the door behind him.
He knew part of the reason for his ill temper was that he had not been able to talk to or see Desiree. It was eating him alive. He was sure that by now she would have contacted him, asking for his help. But not a word, not a call. How could she not need him?
He slammed his briefcase on top of his desk, sending a flurry of papers to the floor. This was not how things were supposed to be. Desiree should have been his by now. Hadn’t he shown her how much he cared? Hadn’t he provided for her every need? She’d come to her senses and realize what a fool she’d been to turn her back on him. The building, the exhibit, none of it mattered. The only thing that made a difference in his life was Desiree, and he had to find a way to finally make her understand that.
* * *
“Sorry, ma’am, we’re full and probably will be for the next two weeks. You can try us back then.”
“Thanks.” Rachel sighed and hung up the phone. She’d called every bed-and-breakfast on Sag Harbor and received the same response: “Full, please call back.” Short of going out there herself and scouting the places, she didn’t know what else to do.
She leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. She couldn’t let Desiree down, not after all the huffing and puffing she’d done, swearing that she would take care of everything.
Running out of options, Rachel decided to call the tourist bureau. After about twenty minutes, the very patient and thorough customer service rep was ready to fax over information on a relatively new B and B called The Port.
“Thank you so much. You’ve saved a life today,” Rachel said. “Yes, the fax is coming through right now. Thank you again. Have a great day.”
Rachel hung up and hurried across the room of her home office to the fax machine. Each of the pages highlighted the attributes of this little-known treasure on Sag Harbor. Even though the picture of the resort was a bit grainy, she could tell that it would be perfect for Desi. It offered all the amenities and provided the privacy that she needed while still giving her easy access to the rest of the affluent African-American community.
Before the last page was spewed out, Rachel was on the phone.
“Hello, please tell me that you have rooms available,” she said, a bit breathless.
The deep voice chuckled. “Actually you’re in luck.”
“Oh, thank goodness. I’d like to make reservations—for the rest of the summer if that’s possible.”
“The rest of the summer works for us,” he said. “We’ll be happy to accommodate you.”
“Actually it’s not for me. It’s for a friend. She really needs to get away, rest, and…well, she needs to get away. But I’ll be taking care of all the bills.”
“Not a problem. Let me put the guest clerk on the phone and she will take care of all the particulars.”
“Oh…but can’t you take the information? I’ve been on the phone for hours. I swear if I talk to one more person today I might snap.”
“It can’t be that bad,” he said, keeping his voice light. The last thing he needed was an unhappy customer before she even arrived. As one of the newest establishments on the shore, he was conscious of building a solid reputation for customer service. “Trust me, the clerk will help you. I only own the place. I leave the running of The Port to the staff. It’s important. I’m sure you can understand that. So please hang on and we’ll get you all set up in no time at all.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed as she listened to the recorded music of Nancy Wilson.
At least it’s not Musak,
she thought.
“Hi. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. My name is Terri. Tell me what you need and we’ll make it happen.”
Rachel gave Terri all the information and insisted that Desiree be given as much privacy as possible.
“We always respect all of our guests’ privacy, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Great. Put all the charges on my credit card. She’s not to be bothered with anything.”
“Understood.” Terri took down all the credit information. “All done. We’ll be expecting Ms. Armstrong on Sunday. And don’t worry about check-in times, her room will be ready whenever she arrives.”
Rachel exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”
“Not a problem. Have a great day.” Terri hung up the phone and started to file away the reservation card.
“So who is our mystery guest this weekend, Terri?”
Terri turned in the direction of her boss’s voice. “A Desiree Armstrong.” She handed the reservation card to him.
It took a moment for the name and the reality to register, and when it did his breath stopped in his chest.
Lincoln blindly handed the card back to her.
“Are you all right, Mr. Davenport?”
“Uh, yes. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “See to it that Ms. Armstrong has whatever she needs.” He turned and walked away.
Lincoln stepped outside and stood on the porch of the main house, gazing out toward the sun that was slowly descending over the still waters. Orange and gold sunbeams streamed out across the slight ripples like pathways leading to eternity. For an instant, Lincoln wished he could simply put one foot in front of the other, step onto the guiding beams of light and walk off into the horizon. It seemed possible, almost preferable to having to confront the unimaginable.
Desiree. Even now, five years later, the mere thought of her made his heart race and desire heat his blood. Was this some cruel joke, some twist of fate that was bringing her here of all places? In three days he would know. But what then? What could they possibly say to each other to make what had gone so wrong right again?
Chapter 5
“I
don’t know how to thank you, Rae.”
“You can thank me by relaxing and getting your head and spirit clear,” Rachel said as she sped along Route 79 en route to Sag Harbor.
Desiree sat back against the plush beige leather of the Volvo and took in the sights as they unfolded along the highway.
Everything was in bloom, alive. Had this been any other time in her life she’d be reaching for her sketchbook and pencils to begin detailing all that her eyes could see or imagine. But this wasn’t any of those other times. As much as she’d tried to put on a good face for Rachel and Cynthia, the truth was—she’d lost it. She’d lost her desire to paint. The inspiration that drove her to sit long, agonizing hours to bring her vision to the canvas or to a piece of clay was gone. And that realization saddened her as only one other thing ever had.
She hoped that this time away would somehow revive her passion, or at the very least give her a reason to pick up the fragments of her life.
Each time she closed her eyes she had nightmares, terrifying visions of that night, and she’d wake up shaking and soaking wet. She was afraid to be alone and ashamed to be around anyone. Now instead of the scents of turpentine and paint revitalizing her as they once did, they only evoked twisted memories, making her stomach revolt.
Everyone thought of her as “so together,” strong, resilient, able to handle anything. But she was none of those things. Maybe at one time, but now she felt as if she were only a shell of the woman she once was. Would she ever be all right again? Ever? Would the constant fear that hung in the center of her chest ever go away?
Inadvertently a shuddering sigh rushed up from her chest and escaped across her lips.
“Desi? Are you okay?” Rachel quickly glanced in her mirrors, then eased the car onto the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Rae, I…feel so lost, like I’m drifting. I have nightmares every night. I can’t paint, I can’t think…” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Desi.” She clasped her left shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You just need some time. You’ve been through a trying ordeal. Anyone who’d been in your place would feel the same way.”
Desiree sniffed hard and reached in the glove compartment for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes. “I know. I keep telling myself that,” she said and wiped her nose. “Some days it helps and other days it doesn’t.”
“Are you sure you want to go to the shore? You know you can stay with me. Maybe it’s too early for you to be alone.”
“I’ll be okay. I have to be. I know I can’t keep living like this every day.” She turned and looked at Rachel. “I just can’t, Rae.” She tugged in a deep breath and forced herself to smile. “I didn’t let you come all this way for nothing. Let’s go.”
* * *
Lincoln strolled across the grounds behind his property, gravel and sand crunching beneath his sneakered feet, and walked toward the water. From his vantage on the hill, he could see for miles across the cloudless sky. The water was a soothing blue and moved in gentle ripples along the shoreline, seeming to meet the deeper blue of the heavens in a seamless line along the horizon. In the distance the white sails of the private boats could be seen flapping in the late summer breeze.
When he’d stumbled across the abandoned site four years earlier, he immediately saw its potential.
The eight cabins were nestled among manicured bushes, imposing gray rocks and a brook that ran in a crisscross pattern throughout the two-mile stretch of grass and sand. The main house was a stone’s throw away from the water, and from its vantage point on the high hill it was a fairy-tale view at night.
But all that potential took work to be realized. What were now luxury cabins with all of the latest amenities had been shaped from a series of eight shacks in desperate need of repair. Everything from new plumbing to walls and new roofs were part of the renovations.
Yet with all the extras, the cabins still maintained an intimate, homey feel to them that his guests loved.
The Port had become his balm, a place to soothe his soul, a place to immerse himself in his efforts to get over Desiree. He poured all of his energies into creating this haven, praying that at the end of the day he would be too damned exhausted to think or feel. Some days his efforts paid off. Many times it did not, and she would creep into his thoughts, beneath his skin.
Lincoln inhaled deeply the salt-filled air and he could almost feel her fill him as she had always done. But he knew how empty he truly was inside. When would the emptiness be filled? He closed his eyes for a moment as the images came rushing back.
The sounds of laughter floated upward from the shore and pulled him from the thoughts that constantly engulfed him. He opened his eyes, turned and slowly walked back to the main house.
* * *
“Terri, I’m going into town,” Lincoln said as he approached the front desk. “I should be back in an hour or so. Is there anything we need—you need?”
Terri put the guest register aside. “We’re pretty well stocked with everything. We had a shipment of supplies on Friday.”
Lincoln nodded.
“Are you okay, Mr. D.? You seem so out of it lately.”
He chuckled. “Naw, I’m okay. Didn’t know it was that obvious.”
She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “You’re pretty lousy at hiding your feelings, Mr. D.”
“Guess I have to work on that.” He tapped the desk and walked toward the door. “See you later.”
Driving always had a way of relaxing him, he thought, as he trotted down the four steps to the driveway and got behind the wheel of his black-on-black Lincoln Navigator. He had to do something to keep his mind off of Desiree’s impending visit. More than once, he’d thought about leaving The Port and staying at his place in Manhattan until he was sure she was gone. But he realized the only purpose it would serve would be to delay the inevitable. He always believed that at some point in life he and Desiree would meet again and be forced to confront their demons. That it would be here and now meant that the time had come.
He took a turn onto the main two-lane road to be met by a speeding car that came right at him. He swerved violently to the right and onto the shoulder to avoid a head-on collision. Squealing to a stop, he looked in his rearview mirror. The tan Volvo continued down the road and turned off onto the same road he’d come from as if nothing nearly disastrous had just occurred.
Lincoln spat out a string of expletives before pulling himself together and getting back onto the road.
“Some people need to have their licenses taken away,” he grumbled.
* * *
“Idiot!” Rachel yelled.
Desiree held her hand to her chest. “Jeez, Rae. That was close.”
“It’s obvious that whoever was behind the wheel doesn’t practice any road courtesy,” she huffed, attempting to hide how shaken she was behind a blast of bravado. She gripped the steering wheel.
“Well, just relax. It can’t be too much farther.”
Desiree peeked into the passenger-side mirror and watched the magnificent black stallion of a ride disappear as Rachel turned onto the next road. An unsettling sensation floated upward from her belly and gripped her heart. She suddenly felt hot and cold as if something had passed over or through her. Her heart beat a little faster but she was no longer sure if it was a result of their recent scare…or something else. She glanced in the mirror again and saw nothing but road and trees. She took a deep, cleansing breath and pushed the odd feelings aside.