Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (4 page)

“But the current brand could use a facelift,” Celeste continued. “Even if they don’t want to ditch their current market, they are getting older, and there will be others, like Gen X-ers, to take their place in the line of succession. Targets that still want what Imperial has to offer. Only fresher.”

“All right.” Laura looked up at the group. “What’s the plan?”

Nathan punch
ed in the security code to his apartment building, then fumbled for the key to his door. What a day, and he still had to pack for the cruise.
Check that.
First he’d have to
unpack
some boxes before he could
pack
his suitcase for the cruise. So far he’d only unearthed his business suits and his work-out clothes. God only knew what boxes held his jeans and other casual wear.

“Mr. Maxwell, I have a package for you.” The building’s security guard pulled a box out from behind the desk. “You’ll need to sign for it.”

“Thanks, Omar.” Glancing at the mailing label, he saw his sister’s address.

“Do you need help carrying it up?” Omar asked, as Nathan balanced the box, his briefcase, the bag of toiletries he’d just picked up from the local Duane Reade, and his other mail.

“No, I’ve got it. Have a good night.”

Nathan had a general idea what the box contained and he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with the memories.

Setting the package on top of a stack of unopened boxes, he flipped on the lights and headed for the kitchen. If he recalled, there was a box of Chinese takeout left over from the night before.

As he shoveled a forkful in his mouth, he thumbed through his mail. “Mmm, mm. Nothing like cold beef lo mein,” he muttered to himself. “Damn, I really need to eat better.”

Not that he didn’t know how to cook. His grandmother had been an excellent cook, and she’d taught him how to make a kick-ass pot of greens, some flaky biscuits or savory cornbread, even his favorite—pecan pie—but who had time for that?

Oh well. Soon he’d be eating like a king, if the five-star reviews of Imperial’s cuisine held true.

Seeing nothing of interest in the mail, he moved into the living room, taking his cold, one-star meal-in-a-carton with him, and stared at the box, considering. If he didn’t open it before he left and acknowledge its receipt, his sister would pester him the whole cruise.

Setting aside his
ersatz
dinner, he reached into his pocket and took out the bone-handled pocketknife his grandmother had given him for his sixteenth birthday. A gift he knew she’d splurged on. Slicing through the tape, he lifted the lid. And memories flooded his brain.

On top was the battered copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
his grandmother had made him read. He’d groused and complained, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t put it down. And he’d read it dozens of times since then.

He pulled an envelope written in his sister’s hand out of the book and opened it.

Dear Nathan,

I went through Gram’s things and enclosed the items I thought you’d want. I think she kept everything from the time we moved in with her until the day she died. Every drawing, every report card, every letter we ever wrote to her. She even had the local newspaper clippings about the 4-H ribbons I’d won. God, I miss her.

Yeah, he did too. He rubbed a hand over the ache in his chest that never went away.

By the way, the developer called again. He’s pushing hard. And the bank has called several times. We need to move on this soon.

I miss you. Hope the Big Apple is everything you dreamed. I’ll be up to visit as soon as I can.

Hugs,

Amanda

Yeah, right. Like she had time to visit New York.

He hated leaving his sister to deal with an aggressive mortgage lender, and an even more aggressive developer. She had a heavy enough burden trying to keep the farm going, without dealing with a hostile mortgage lender, avaricious developers, and pushy real estate agents. The house needed a new roof to boot, but that would have to wait until they’d taken care of the mortgages.

Both he and his sister had been shocked to learn their grandmother had mortgaged the farm to the hilt. A farm that had been in her family for generations. She’d used the money to send him and Amanda to college. Money she’d said she’d saved for just such an expense.

He closed his eyes, the pain of her sacrifice overwhelming him. She would have known she’d never be able to repay the mortgages. Her life insurance had been barely enough to cover her medical bills and funeral costs.

Well, he’d be damned if he’d let some greedy land developer keen to build a neighborhood of McMansions for a bunch of country wannabes put his family’s land on the chopping block.

The bonus he’d receive upon closing the Imperial account would just cover the two mortgages. And close the Imperial account he would. He and Amanda just needed to hold the bank and the developer at bay until then.

Setting aside his sister’s note, he reached into the box for a bundle of letters tied with string. Letters he’d written his grandmother from college.

Seeing a large manila envelope, he opened it, and found a stack of photos. On top, a photo from his high school graduation, his grandmother beaming by his side, and beneath that his official college graduation photo, the one she’d kept on the fireplace mantel.

His aching heart climbed to his throat when he came upon the photo of his mother. He held it under the light. She must have been eighteen at the time, right before she’d gotten pregnant with him.

She’d been a beauty. Raven hair, warm, brown eyes, brilliant smile. So young, her life ahead filled with unlimited possibilities. But she’d made some bad choices, and ashamed by those choices, and their consequences, she’d become estranged from her own mother.

He looked back at his graduation photos. He’d seen the same gleam, the same energy in his own eyes, as he saw in his mother’s. He could hear his grandmother’s frequent admonition, “Always do the right thing, no matter how hard it is.”

And, dammit, he’d made the right choices, even when they were hard. Sighing, he put the photos back in the envelope. His unplanned trip down memory lane had left him drained. The unpacking and packing would wait until tomorrow.

On top of everything else she had to do before she left fo
r the cruise, Laura had the bright idea to welcome Darcy and Josh home with a small surprise party. What
had
she been thinking?

So on Friday evening, she called Darcy’s house phone, hoping Millie was there to let the caterers in. “Ryan residence.”

“Did they promote you to housekeeper?”

“Cruella, is that you?”

“Funny.” Laura beeped at the taxi in front of her as soon as the light turned green. “I’m on my way.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Did you let the caterers in?”

Millie released a long-suffering sigh. “No. I left them standing on the stoop with trays of food in their hands. Of course I let them in.”

“Don’t mess with me, Millie. You know I can take you.”

“Maybe, but I’d still be smarter than you.”

Laura practically heard the smirk through the phone, but chose to ignore Millie’s dig. “Did Mark and Chris get the banner hung?”

“Yes, your ladyship.”

“Champagne chilling?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship. And I polished the silver, scrubbed the floors, cleaned the windows—”

“Okay, I get it.” Laura rolled her eyes. “Thanks for taking care of everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll be there shortly, if this—” she blew her horn again “—police car would get out of my way.”

“You’re blowing your horn at a policeman?”

“Well, he’s in the way.”

“God forbid. Goodbye, Cruella.”

Laura had ordered trays of tapas for the guests, and an elegant dinner for Darcy and Josh to enjoy after everyone left. They’d been traveling most of the day and would be exhausted, so Laura thought she’d extend the honeymoon by one more evening with a romantic dinner for two—after the initial surprise. She’d also arranged to have staple food items in the kitchen so that they could spend a leisurely morning in bed.

Finding a parking space around the corner from Darcy’s—and now Josh’s—Park Slope brownstone, Laura pulled her red Fiat 500 into it, and reaching across the seat grabbed the bouquet of white roses her assistant had ordered for the occasion. She glanced at her watch. She’d made it by the skin of her teeth.

Letting herself in with her key, she called out, “I’m here.”

“I’ll alert the media,” Millie said as she stepped out of the living room. Dressed from head-to-toe in her usual dingy brown, Millie looked every bit the unkind ‘Mousey Millie’ nickname Mark and Chris had given her. From her Marian-the-Librarian bun to her sensible shoes, and everything in-between, Millie was a study in browns.

“The cast of
The Grapes of Wrath
called. They want their wardrobe back.”

Millie glanced down at her clothes, her brow furrowed. “What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

In direct contradiction to her appearance, Millie had this voice. A voice that called to mind a dimly lit boudoir, the sensual strains of Ravel’s “Boléro,” and red lace lingerie.
Pfft.
Listen to me, Laura thought, I’m starting to sound like one of Darcy’s steamy romance novels.

“One of these days, Millie. So help me, one of these days,” Laura said, referencing her multiple threats to stage a What-Not-To-Wear intervention. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Put these in water.” Laura handed the bouquet to Millie.

“Yes, Your Ladyship.”

After giving the living room a quick once-over and seeing the trays of food were properly displayed, the champagne nestled in the ice bucket, and the ‘Welcome Home’ banner hanging over the fireplace, Laura made her way to the back of the townhouse, hearing the low hum of voices. All of Darcy’s and Josh’s closest friends and family were there. Mark, Chris, and Martin from Josh’s office, along with Martin’s wife, Cindy, spoke with Darcy’s parents, Jeff and Vanessa.

Darcy’s sister and brother-in-law, Anne and Matt, laughed at something Darcy’s literary agent and godmother, Gloria, had said. Judging from the highball glass in her hand, Gloria had already tapped into the Bombay Sapphire gin Darcy kept in the liquor cabinet especially for her, while Darcy’s editor, Elise, sipped from a glass of wine.

She’d made sure Kelly and Daniel were there as well. Hero-lawyer Josh saved Kelly’s home from foreclosure, and became an unofficial big brother to her son, Daniel, in the process. Not that Laura would ever call Josh a hero to his face. Even if that’s what he was.

Whispering in the corner were Brandon, Darcy’s brother, and his long-time partner, David.

Darcy’s mom, Vanessa, a Jane Austen scholar at Barnard College, had named all her children after her favorite Austen characters. Darcy Elizabeth, Frederick Brandon, and Anne Elinor.

“Laura!” Jeff greeted her as she walked in. “How’s the world of advertising?” He walked over and, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Darcy’s father had been more a father to her than her own. His support and encouragement, along with the occasional kick in the ass, kept her on the right track. And Darcy’s mother offered the love and warmth her own mother never did. Vanessa drew her in for a hug. “You’re so thoughtful to do this for Darcy and Josh.”

Laura brushed it off. “It’s nothing. Let’s move into the living room. They should be home any time now.”

As soon as everyone crowded into the living room, Laura glanced out the bay window to see the car pull up out front. “Shh. They’re here.” The driver gathered the luggage from the trunk and carried it to the stoop. With a rattle of keys, the front door banged open amongst giggles and the unmistakable sound of smooching. Laura rolled her eyes and lifted a hand to hold the snickers and cries of surprise at bay.

Josh stepped into the foyer, Darcy still in his arms after carrying her over the threshold, their lips locked, unaware of their audience.

Laura spoke up. “Oh, give it a rest. Now you’re just rubbing it in.”

Josh spun around with a stunned Darcy, as everyone yelled, “Surprise!”

Josh set Darcy on her feet before sharing some high-fives and fist-bumps with his buddies, Daniel among them. “D
aniel! What’s up, dude? Besides growing, like, five inches since we’ve been gone.” Josh turned to Kelly. “You must have been feeding him nothing but your parents’ steaks.” Kelly’s parents owned a butcher shop in Harlem.

Darcy grabbed Laura for a hug, then drew back. “You said you weren’t going to be in the country.”

“A little fib.” Laura made as if she studied her nails.

“Aren’t you going on the cruise?”

“Yes. I leave Sunday, so the slide show will still have to wait.”

“You’re such a little sneak.” Darcy glanced around the room. “Did you do this?”

“Pfft. We all did,” Laura indicated the others in the room.

“Mom! Dad!” Darcy rushed her parents, hugging and kissing them, before moving on to the rest of the welcoming committee.

“Welcome home.” Gloria patted her cheek. “You’re out of gin.”

“I missed you too, Gloria,” Darcy said as she teared up. “And Millie!” She hauled a stiff Millie in for a hug.

Laura shook her head. Darcy knew full well Millie didn’t like displays of affection, especially public ones. Laura turned and greeted Josh in her usual manner, “Voldemort.”

“Bellatrix.”

“What’s the difference between a porcupine and a Mercedes-Benz full of lawyers?” Laura asked.

“The porcupine has pricks on the outside.”

“Damn. They really need to come up with some new lawyer jokes.”

“They, who?” Josh’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“The lawyer-joke-maker-uppers.” She waved her hand in the air, indicating the ephemeral individuals who did such things.

“Thanks for the welcome home party.” Josh leaned down and kissed Laura’s cheek.

She nudged him away. “Don’t go all mushy on me. Marriage to my best friend turning you into a wussy?”

Josh laughed before making his way through the crowded living room.