Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (5 page)

“Who’s turning into a wussy?” Gloria asked in her gravel against glass voice, as she selected a beef tenderloin crostini from one of the trays.

“Josh.” Laura followed suit and picked up a crostini, smirking as she glanced at Josh’s retreating back.

“I suppose love does that to you. Something you would know nothing about,” Gloria said around a bite of meat and pesto.

“And you do?”

“More than you, which I realize isn’t saying much.”

“Love will never make me mushy.” If she ever found love, which she doubted. She watched as Josh placed a kiss on Darcy’s forehead. Not that kind of love, anyway.

What was she talking about? Nowhere in Laura’s Life Plan was there a man. Not a one. At least not a permanent one.

“Careful there, Queen of the Booty Calls. Never say never.” Gloria stuffed the olive from her dirty martini in her mouth. “When do you leave for your cruise?”

Laura narrowed her eyes. “How did you know about my cruise?”

Gloria lifted a shoulder, her short-cropped bright red hair standing out in spiky tufts around her head. “Darcy must have said something.”

Hmm. “
I leave Sunday, why?”

“No reason.” Gloria breezed off in Vanessa’s direction.

What was that woman up to? Laura wondered. She had known Gloria for as long as she’d known Darcy. Gloria was a significant part of Darcy’s life, as both her godmother and her literary agent. But there was something about her that Laura couldn’t put her finger on. She always seemed to
know
things, as if she had a direct line into your life. “Pfft.” Laura glanced at the drink in her hand. “Must be the champagne.”

Jeff and Vanessa said their goodbyes. “Laura, we’ll give you a ride home, so you don’t have to pay for a taxi,” Jeff offered.

“Thanks,
but I drove.”

“Enjoy your cruise, then!” Vanessa said just as they closed the front door behind them.

Laura and Gloria were the only ones left. Gloria polished off the last of her drink. Her fourth—after sending Chris, or was it Mark?, out to get more gin.

“Thank you for everything!” Darcy’s eyes sparkled as she hugged Laura. “You’re awesome.”

“Just call me Your Awesomeness. Don’t forget your dinner in the oven.”

“Have fun on your cruise. You’re sure to meet some hunky guys with accents to while away the hours with.”

“What I’ll be whiling away the hours with is research. This is business, remember? I’m not going to let anything get in the way of getting this account.” Especially a man. Accent or no.

“Laura.” Darcy took her hands and looked her straight in the eye. “I hope you get this account because you want it so badly and because you deserve it, but you don’t have to prove anything. You’re already a huge success. And nothing is going to change that.”

“Who said I was trying to prove anything? It’s just the natural progression of my career.”

“Right.” Darcy sighed. “Laura’s Life Plan.”

“Yep, the LLP.”

A slightly inebriated Gloria joined them in the foyer. “Come on, old woman, I’ll drive you home,” Laura said, as she opened the front door. “Bye, Dracula,” Laura called to Josh.

“See ya, Elphaba,” he yelled back from the kitchen.

Gloria tottered along beside Laura, weaving a bit. “Careful, there,” Gloria slurred. “Don’t get those hooker heels stuck in a sidewalk seam.”

Laura shot Gloria a narrow look.
WTF?
“How’d you know about that?”

“Know about what?”

“Oh, never mind.” Must be the excitement over her upcoming departure. ’It’d made her loopy. Of course Gloria wouldn’t know about her Nathan encounter.

Chapter 4

“What the hell do you mean you’re taking a cruise?”

Well, that got her father’s attention, Laura thought, as she pushed the pear tart—prepared by the latest in a long line of cooks—around on her plate.

“Yes, dear,” her mother, Cherise of the Perfect Hair, chimed in. “Why would you take a vacation now? You’ll miss your grandmother’s eightieth birthday.”

Laura knew her grandmother would be none too pleased that she wouldn’t be there to worship at her feet. As the family matriarch, her paternal grandmother ruled over the family like Lady Catherine de Bourgh over Rosings Park. You couldn’t hang out with the Butler family and not learn a thing or two about Jane Austen.

Laura’s slacker brother, Neil, sat across from her, his face wearing a smug look she’d like to erase. With a pumice stone.

Family dinners were such a joy, and this one was no exception. What a way to spend a perfectly good Saturday evening.

“It’s for business. And I can’t put it off. Time is of the essence.” She eyed her father. “Thanks to Milt telling Hawk Media about the account.”

“What do you mean? Are you going after Imperial?” Her father’s mulish face took on a purple hue.

Laura lifted her chin as her leg began bouncing of its own volition. “Yes, and I’m going to get it, too.” She winced at the petulant sound of her own voice. So much like a little girl’s voice. A little girl who had craved her father’s attention but had never gotten it.

“I won’t help you. Don’t expect to throw around the Great Lakes Shipyard name.”

Laura’s spine stiffened. “I don’t want or need your help.”

“Besides, I told McCutcheon about that account. Just leave it alone.” He drank from his highball glass—his standard twelve-year-old single-malt scotch.

Her father might be used to getting what he wanted using that tone, but not this time. She narrowed her eyes at her father. “What’s in it for you? What will you get out of McCutcheon if his son gets the Imperial account?” As a U.S. Senator who headed up the Armed Services Committee, McCutcheon’s actions could greatly impact her father’s business, specifically the military division.

Her father had the grace to look uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t understand men’s deals.”

“Tell me, does Neil understand ‘men’s deals’?” She glanced over at her brother. “Since he
is
the VP of Ethics and Compliance. Or whatever title you created for him,” she muttered. That wiped the smile off Neil’s face. Daddy Dearest created the position for her brother, since every other job he’d held was beyond his abilities. In this position, Neil essentially did whatever his father told him to.

“Now, dear”—Her mother placed her hand over Laura’s—“don’t upset your father. He works hard. And must sometimes rely on the good will of friends.”

“Cherise,” her father warned with a shake of his head.

“You can put off your little cruise a week,” Cherise continued. “See your grandmother on her birthday, then if you must take a cruise, the Liphams have a wonderful yacht. If they’re not using it, I’m sure you could take it wherever you’d like.”

“Mother, the cruise is for business, it can’t wait a week, and I’m not going after the Liphams’ account, I’m going after Imperial’s.” She placed her napkin beside her uneaten dessert. “Please give my best to Grandmother. I have to go home and pack. Goodnight.”

Outside her family’s Westchester estate, she took her first full breath since arriving two hours before. She climbed into her car, cranked up Coldplay, and tried to leave the stress behind. This cruise might be business, but ten days half a world away from her family was a vacation, no matter how you looked at it.

The drive home relieved some of the tension,
but Laura couldn’t have been happier to walk into her apartment an hour later. “Ahh. Solitude.” Dropping her keys onto the ebony console table in the foyer, her first stop, the kitchen, for a little something to complete the relaxation process.

Picking up the remote on the way to the kitchen, she turned on some music, then poured a glass of port while Natasha Bedingfield sang about reaching for something in the distance. She took a sip of the port and let its honeyed warmth wash away the remaining stress.

Walking over to the wall of windows that formed the exterior corner of her dining and living room, she stared out at the lights of the city beyond and took a deep breath.

Contrary to what most people thought of Laura Armstrong, bad-ass advertising executive, she needed the peace and solitude of her home to recharge. She worked hard and played harder. No question about that. But even she needed quiet time. Time with no one who dictated to her. No one who expected anything of her. No one who criticized her. Or even worse, openly ignored her.

Wandering aimlessly around the Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment she’d purchased recently with the inheritance from her paternal grandfather, she knew she’d made a wise investment.

Chic yet serene, with fantastic views of Central Park and the Upper East Side, the apartment’s scheme conveyed an understated elegance. Decorated in whites and creams, with black accents like the gleaming granite countertops and built-in bookcases, and touched with splashes of aqua, coral, and pale yellow, the apartment served as an oasis from the insanity that often defined her life.

She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Not too far from the vibrant Manhattan nightlife she loved, but removed enough to offer the respite she needed. Here, lately, she needed more respite and less nightlife. She sighed. “I must be getting old. Before you know it I’ll be going to bed with the sun.”

Pressing a thumb to her right eye where a headache threatened to erupt, she tried in vain to dismiss the evening at her parents’. What the hell did she expect? To one day walk in and find a Norman Rockwell family? Things weren’t going to change, so why did she always come away disillusioned?

Natasha’s soulful voice poured from the sound system. Laura often felt as if
she
were reaching for something in the distance. Something she couldn’t define.

Growing up, she’d received little attention from her father. More indifference than outright disregard. The only attention her mother had given her was to criticize her appearance, her behavior, and her interests. While Laura liked all things fashion, she also acted the tomboy, playing sports like basketball and volleyball, where her height offered an advantage. Her mother hated that her daughter took up sports, but couldn’t be bothered enough to put a stop to it.

She’d dutifully attended finishing school to learn good posture, how to make polite conversation, which fork to use when, and the art of thank-you notes. Complain though she did about those courses, the skills she learned served her well in her professional life. Score one for her mother.

Beginning with the first generation Armstrong shipbuilder, there had been a male heir to the Armstrong dynasty. Even so, being the firstborn, Laura just knew she would one day take over the family business. She used to pretend she was a shipbuilding magnate following in her father’s footsteps. She worked hard to be the very best at everything so she’d be smart enough to handle the business and make her father proud.

When her baby brother came along, “heir to the Armstrong dynasty,” her father’s indifference turned to complete disregard, as he essentially forgot her existence. From that point on, her brother could do no wrong in her father’s eyes.

Where Laura worked hard, her brother slacked off. Even when his grades fell far below hers at the same age, her father offered excuses.
He’s smarter than his teachers. He just needs more stimulation.
Or her favorite,
He’s got his eye on the Armstrong business and can’t be bothered with mundane schoolwork.

As for her mother, well, Cherise was too busy with committees, bridge club, hair and nail appointments, and society dinners and gatherings, to help much with the kids. She may have given birth to them, and the jury was still out on that—she couldn’t see her mother willingly participating in such a messy, painful process—but other than making sure Laura was polished and educated so she could find and marry the appropriate man, she had no other role in the upbringing of her children.

Having no idea what to do with a boy, Cherise left Neil’s upbringing to his father. Big mistake.

Her father’s disregard turned to unmitigated disdain when at the tender age of twelve she failed on a monumental, and very public, level. While many witnessed her epic failure, no one, not even Darcy, knew the words her father spoke later that evening. And no one ever would.

After that, she lost all hope of ever gaining her father’s love and affection, much less his respect.

But she never gave up on being the best she could be. Where she’d once worked hard hoping to gain her father’s attention, if not his love, she now did it for herself alone. She discovered a love of winning, and she loved the praise that came with it, even if it didn’t come from her parents.

Left to her own devices most of the time, Laura developed a resourcefulness and independence. Science project: she developed her hypothesis, did her research, gathered her supplies, and completed the project, earning high marks. College applications: she wrote her essays, completed her forms, mailed them, fielded any interviews, and arranged for her apartment when she was accepted.

After being independent for so long, she had no desire to hitch her star to anyone else’s wagon, much less a man’s. Besides, why do that, when she knew she could succeed on her own?

Laura’s paternal grandmother, Octavia Spencer Armstrong, reigned over her family like a third-world dictator, especially after her husband died. Laura’s paternal grandfather, Parker, had been kind to her during his lifetime. Not overly effusive, but at least he’d paid attention to her. Upon his death when she was only sixteen, he’d left her and her brother substantial trust funds.

She took control of that fund four years ago at age twenty-five. The money gave her financial independence, so even if her grandmother followed through with her many threats to disinherit her, she’d be secure. She managed her trust fund investments with the same attention to detail as she managed her client accounts.

Given her financial resources, it was fair to say she didn’t work hard for the money. She worked for the satisfaction of a job done well. She loved the hunt for new accounts, the adrenaline rush, the challenge, and finally, the kill when the agency scored the account. The diversity of the work didn’t hurt.