Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

Chapter Eleven: Cherry Tart

For all I managed to talk my way out of most future meetings, lunches, dinners and what-have-you Kathy Van Burke decided to invite the Collier household to, Davlin Fredericks managed to find me. He would never say much, just ask the usual niceties and pleasantries and all sorts of other –ities, then silently walk or stand beside me. That man was creeping me out something major.

One afternoon it was Freddy who found me walking through the vineyard, camera in hand, photographing whatever I could. I hadn’t been able to just wander around for a while, what with the changes at the resort and everything, and my poor camera was just gathering dust.

“Hey there, chica,” Freddy called. “Where have you been hiding?”

“The outhouse behind Casa del Collier. The fumes are great for relaxing my hair.”

To his credit, he laughed. My hair was still a bright orange fuzz-ball, and being that close to Grand Traverse Bay was not helping in the slightest.

“I was beginning to think I was annoying you,” he said.

“Nah. Not you. Other members of your family, maybe, but not you.”

“Yeah, Kathy can be rather abrasive at times.”

“At times?” My eyebrows went up. “Let me ask you a question-”

Freddy looked down at his feet. “Has Davlin always been that peculiar?”

“Well, I was gonna say crazy, but ‘peculiar’ works too.”

“He’s always been a little twitchy, if that’s what you mean. He got worse a year or so ago.” The moment the words left his mouth, Freddy got that ‘Aww, crap, I said something wrong,’ face and clammed up.

Now I know how to take a hint and that one was clearly marked. Do you think I let it go? If you do, you may as well stop reading now. Better yet, keep reading. This will be fun for you.

“Oh?”

I like Freddy. He makes such funny faces! He was thinking hard, determining what he could and could not safely tell me. Davlin Fredericks was apparently a very, very formidable cousin.

Instead of spilling the beans, which I’m fairly certain he wanted to, Freddy took a different tack.

“Look, Dav’s been under a lot of stress lately. He’s had a hard life-”

I had to interject. “Define ‘Hard.’ To the best of my knowledge, he’s never had to worry about where his next meal is coming from, or if there’ll be a roof over his head, or if he’ll have clothes to wear to school.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean his life has been idyllic. His parents split when he was 14-”

“My dad walked out on us when I was 10.”

“So you know how sucky it is!”

I had not expected him to say that in the manner which he did; it was pretty funny.

“Anyway, once his parents split, his mom dragged him and Evey back to her hometown in Wales. Transferring high schools is hard enough when you’re a kid (I should know, I’m an Army brat), but transferring to a school in another country? It’s brutal, let me tell you.”

“I’ll give him that.”

“You’re so generous,” he said with a handsome amount of sarcasm and a cheeky grin. “But it gets better! His dad, who owned Fredericks International, died while Dav was in college and left the whole shebang to him, making Dav one of the youngest CEOs in the country. To top that, his mom wrapped her car around a tree a few years later, and suddenly Dav had custody of Evey. The poor guy’s been through the wringer.”

“Okay, okay. You got me. So what happened a year ago?” See, I remembered. Freddy had tried to distract me with his Mr. Exposition story, but I wasn’t about to forget what got us started on that conversation in the first place.

“Oh, just teenage dramas with Evey, but you know that girlie stuff creeps most guys out.”

“Uh-huh.” While I was sure that what he said was true, I was also sure that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Hey, that’s Dav’s business. I know part of it, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. You know how Davlin is, though. You’ve worked with him.”

Yeah, I knew him well enough. If he didn’t want to talk about something, it wasn’t talked about. His word was law.

Silence reigned for a moment or two, and me being one who dislikes silence on the whole, changed the subject. Slightly.

“Do you know Byron Clarke at all?”

“I’ve met him a few times. He’s nice and all, but a bit dopey.”

“He was a football player in high school.”

“I should’ve guessed!” Freddy laughed. “I was in marching band. Color guard, actually.”

“I’m not surprised,” I replied. I had no problem whatsoever picturing him twirling batons or waving flags. “I’ll bet you looked good in those leggings.”

“Naturally!” Freddy put his head to one side. “But Byron Clarke. Yeah. I know Davlin was talking about having to bail him out of a bad situation. Something about the girl he was dating while they were up here working on the resort.”

My ears pricked up. “Oh?” Sometimes only one word is needed to open the floodgates.

“I don’t really know that much about it.”

Or not.

“Just that the girl was nice and all, but no good.”

“How was she ‘No Good’?” I tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to hold back the yelp at the end of the sentence.

“He didn’t say, really. Something about her family being really messed up.”

Ooh, no he didn’t! A white-hot shard of hatred buried itself in my heart.

“And Mr. Fredericks decided that himself?” I asked quietly.

“That’s what it looks like. From what I know of Byron, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Are you all right? That little vein in your forehead is throbbing.”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, it’s just a bit of a headache just came on. I think we’ll be getting a storm in here soon.” It was a little lie. “I think I’m going to head inside. Batteries are almost dead.” I lifted the camera as evidence. It was another little lie: I had just put new batteries in that morning.

“I’ll walk with you. Who knows what could happen; one of those giant mosquitoes could fly up and carry you away.”

His joke earned a weak chuckle. At that moment, I was too angry to do anything else.

Back at Todd’s house I locked myself in the spare room and sat on the bed, legs and arms crossed, staring at the wall so hard I was sure I saw scorch marks. How dare Davlin Fredericks do something so loathsome and foul as to mess with someone else’s happiness? How dare he judge my family like that? Granted, his assessment was by and large correct, my family was really messed up, but no more than anyone else’s. Byron’s family was no Norman Rockwell print either, and if Mr. Fredericks was using his own family as a comparison, well, he was crazier than I thought.

Carla knocked once to remind me that we were supposed to be up at the Big House for dinner, but like Hel-sinki I was going to be in the same room with that pompous a- arrogant blowhard for more than five minutes. I begged off with a fictitious migraine and waited for them to leave.

Half an hour after my semi-half-cousin and my best friend left I was still seething. Every little thing royally torqued my bobber, from the birds twittering outside to the air conditioning kicking on. Part of me wanted to calm down, since being in such a rage was never healthy for me (or anyone foolish enough to come near me when I was in that state), and another part of me wanted to let the fire burn, which would ultimately see me willfully destroying property that did not belong to me.

When I had finally gotten the anger down to a healthy smolder, I went and sat in the living room and stared out at the vast expanse of Grand Traverse Bay. The sun was setting, turning the water vivid scarlet and orange. There was a slight breeze coming in off the water and all else was quiet. I closed my eyes and imagined that there was nothing wrong with my life, that this was my house that I didn’t have to work for to make the mortgage payments, that every thing and every one was perfect. For one brief moment I had reached a small stage of calm and peace.

It was far too brief a moment, however, as the sound of car tires crunching gravel reached me. I looked at the clock; Todd and Carla never left Mrs. Van Burke’s house before 9, and it was barely 7:30. Who in the world could it be?

I lurched to my feet and shuffled across the polished wood floor to peek out the front window. That small stage of calm and peace was quickly forgotten, and the lightly smoldering anger flared up like a campfire doused with kerosene. The car in the drive was a midnight blue Jaguar, the driver Davlin Fredericks.

A real migraine started this time, two razor-sharp ice picks jammed into my temples. He started walking to the door and I scooted back to the comfort of the sofa, first being sure to draw the blinds mostly shut to cut the harsh light of the setting sun.

Without so much as a knock to signal his desired entrance, Mr. Fredericks walked himself into the house and straight into the living room. I looked up, blinked a few times and made, in my estimation at least, a fairly artistic impression of being in intense pain.

“How are you?” he asked, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. Even when on vacation, the man was wearing a properly pressed button-down.

“As good as can be expected,” I said sweetly. “What with having a migraine. Yourself?”

“Well, thank you.”

He fiddled with his cuffs a little longer, then began to pace. I watched him as much as I could as he crossed the room again and again. Then I got a crick in my neck and had to stop. Thankfully he did too.

“I love you,” he blurted, facing me, hands at his sides. “Marry me.”

“Eh? What?” I swear there was rug burn on my chin.

He sat down next to me and took one of my hands in his. Yes, he did. I was to be further shocked.

“Miss Benjamin- Elise, I love you. I think I always have.”

“You’ve known me for less than six months.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t seem to care about anything anymore. I don’t even mind that your family is entirely unsuitable!”

“Excuse me?!” Since when does family matter in marriage?

He just kept going. The man must have been practicing. “You’re so much better than this place, for all your rough edges. You are so full of vivacity, so full of fire! You are being wasted in this backwater dung heap.”

And you’re so full of bull, I thought. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Nothing at all. You know I don’t drink.”

“Then why in G- the world would you think I would ever consider marrying you?”

It was his turn to be shocked. I pulled my hand from his. “I don’t understand.”

“Then let me spell it out for you. You have just insulted me and my family, as well as where I grew up. You are the reason my dearest sister Gina is depressed- She is the sweetest, kindest girl you could ever meet, and she deserves to be happy! Can you deny your part in breaking her and Byron up?”

Mr. Fredericks stood up and backed away from the sofa. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“And what about Jason Palmer? You ruined his career out of spite! He’s working in construction, earning half of what he could be as a mail room clerk, and it’s all your fault!”

“I have offered you a way out, a life that would allow you the freedom of pursuing any career you would like, and this is my answer?” he said after a moment of very pregnant silence.

“Mr. Fredericks, I wouldn’t marry you if the continuation of the species depended on it. The very thought of tying my future to yours is utterly repugnant, especially after you treated me like an indentured servant while you were renovating the Lodge. I have only ever seen you as selfish, conceited, and heartless. Topping that is your hideous treatment of my friends and family, as well as your downright bizarre behaviors! There is nothing you can do or say that would make me change my mind.”

“Thank you for that precise, if somewhat inaccurate, dissection of my character. I know better than to try to dissuade you from this train of thought, and so I will now take my leave and wish you all possible happiness in your chosen path.”

The eloquence of that final exchange was fascinating. For a few seconds I thought that maybe Dad was right, the English language affords better comebacks than common curses. While I was contemplating the wisdom my father had imparted Davlin slowly walked out the door. I watched him go and felt the temperature drop a few degrees as the door shut behind him; perhaps a chill breeze had snuck in while there was an opportunity.

The weight of what had just occurred pressed down on me all of a sudden. A very rich and handsome man had just proposed marriage to me, and I had refused him. I was completely justified in my refusal, but some part of me argued that I had maybe been a little harsh. OCD is not something that should be counted as a character flaw; it was not like he could just flick a switch and not obsess about things.

And the look on his Pretty Welsh Boy face when I called him out... that was heartbreaking. If I was not so rock-solidly set in my conviction that I was right, and maybe a touch more romantic, I would have felt really guilty about hurting him. A little, teeny, not easily silenced voice cried out that I should feel guilty about that.

Headlights flashed in the hall window; Todd and Carla were home.

“What was Mr. Fredericks doing here?” Todd asked. “We passed him coming down the drive!”

“He was just checking in,” I said, my voice unnaturally flat. Maybe I did feel guilty. “Wanted to see how I was doing.”

“Well, that was nice of him!” Trust my cousin to be Mr. Oblivious.

Carla, at least, was more observant. She handed me a bottle of Excedrin, courtesy of Kathy Van Burke, and made my excuses for me. I went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.

Posted on 2008-07-28

I woke up the next morning with the remains of a migraine, just this side of needing further medical assistance. Carla simply handed me a bottle of water and my sunglasses as I walked out of the kitchen on my way outdoors; there were too many things inside that house to aggravate me, and most of them were named Todd. If he had known just what transpired last night, I would never hear the end of it! It would be difficult enough keeping the story from Mom so as to maintain some level of sanity.

It was blissfully silent out in the vineyard. There were some people out tending the vines, making sure all was well, but they didn’t bother me. Eventually I reached the border of Cathy Van Burke’s property, a rise overlooking the lake with the vineyard spread out beneath. Gorgeous! I kicked myself for not bringing my camera.

My headache was gone after a few minutes out in the clean, cool air. All I needed was the quiet and a little cold water.

The serenity was short lived, however, when I spotted none other than Davlin Fredericks striding up the hill. The last person I wanted to see was making a bee-line for me on his long, long legs. I may not want to see him, I thought, but by George I was going to appreciate those legs!

I very briefly thought about hiding or somehow avoiding him, but by then he’d seen me and it’s really, really hard to hide a head of frizzy, bright orange hair. That and I didn’t want to be rude. Honest.

“Miss Benjamin,” he said, stopping to catch his breath, not that there was much exertion involved with the climb.

“Mr. Fredericks.”

“Please pardon my intrusion. Carla told me you’d be up here. I would have left this with her had I not thought I should deliver it to you myself.”

He produced an envelope and held it out to me. I stared at it for a moment before looking up at him, and when I did my stomach quaked. The man was exhausted and disheveled, or as disheveled as a man like Davlin Fredericks could allow himself to be; the worry-lines between his eyebrows were deeper and there were dark circles under his eyes. For all my determination not to let him affect me from this close a proximity, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. After all, I had the whole previous night to consider just what he had said, weigh the options, and wonder at what could be. I figured that if I were just a little more mercenary that I am, I might just recant if he asked me again.

Wouldn’t you, if put in my position? You’d have to be made entirely of adamantium to not be affected by a supremely good-looking man, one who takes such fastidiously good care of himself, being as care-worn and downright mangy as he was then just because you turned him down! Especially if you happen to be a pudgy garden gnome like me. It’s intoxicating, in a way, to know that you’re the cause of his unhappiness.

So I took the envelope. It was heavier than it looked and was from a set of really nice stationery.

“Good day, Miss Benjamin,” was all he said before bowing slightly and turning away.

When he was safely down the hill I flopped down onto the ground, dirty girl that I am, and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a thick packet of paper, more of that lovely, creamy stationery covered all over in precise handwriting. I almost didn’t read it, not wanting to leave a smudge.

“Dear Miss Benjamin,

Please do not think that I am going to renew my offer from last night in this letter; I will not insult your intelligence or mine by doing so. However, last night I was accused of some things to which I feel the need to defend myself.

I have been accused of willfully separating your sister from my friend, without consideration for the feelings of either party. I will not deny this. It is not something that I am particularly proud of doing, but upon reflection I found it necessary. Byron Clarke is a very affectionate, easy-going person, one who is eager to please everyone and likewise expects nothing less from those around him. While I know Gina is a sweet, kindly girl, not once in my observations did I see the same depth of feeling which Byron has displayed so freely. I know just how attractive a man in Byron’s situation is, with a promising career and substantial wealth, and though I doubt your sister would allow herself to be so mercenary in her attentions, I would not put it past anyone else to so manipulate her for their own benefit. It may be some consolation to you to know that I have rarely seen Byron attach himself to any one girl for more than a few months; he is an idealist to be sure and once the glamour of his latest lady wears thin, he is utterly disappointed. The only flaw I have seen in Gina is shallowness in affection.”

If the letter hadn’t continued, I would’ve ripped it to shreds right then and there, no matter how nice his handwriting was. How arrogant could this man be? He didn’t know Gina like I did. How dare he presume to think she didn’t love Byron? I grunted and continued reading. Maybe, just maybe, he would redeem himself.

“As for the matter of Mr. Jason Palmer, I cannot begin to imagine what sort of things he has told you about his relationship with my family, though I am certain that very little of it is true or flattering. Therefore I will disclose to you the entire history of our acquaintance and let you decide for yourself the injured party. This information can be verified with Freddy at any time, as well as the lawyer whose card I have included.”

Lawyer? It had to be his own lawyer, or one retained by his company.

“This attorney has been retained by the courts to act as an arbiter in this case; he is fully aware of everything that has transpired between myself and Mr. Palmer.”

Well, all right then. While my general opinion of lawyers and attorneys is pretty much the same as everyone else’s, the fact that Mr. Fredericks was willing to give me the name and phone number of someone who wouldn’t necessarily be on his side showed that he wasn’t about to sugar-coat anything. And why in the world would Jason need a lawyer in the first place?

“I have been acquainted with Jason Palmer since childhood, when his father was a dear and loyal advisor to my own. We are close enough in age as to be in the same class, and subsequently were sent to the same schools. When his father died, mine supported Jason and his mother in the same style as they had been used to, and my father looked on Jason as a second son.

“Jason Palmer has always been as you have known him, all ease and charm. While at school he was surrounded by his peers and used his talents to seduce the best parts of lunches as well as ensure that he never had to do his own work on school projects and homework. While this is merely an annoyance, my father was sure that once in college he would straighten up and mature; I hoped it to be so but feared it would not. My fears were proven true not one month into the first semester, when the behavior continued and in fact worsened, moving from conning his friends out of desserts to money, and in no small sums. When he grew bored with these, he convinced my father that university was not the best fit for him and asked instead to be placed in a position within the company.

“My father acquiesced and placed him in our New York office. By this time his schemes had grown very clever and difficult to detect; there were suspicious expense reports, misuse of company vehicles, etc. These things were written off as learning experiences, but once Palmer’s female coworkers started coming forward with accusations of harassment, action needed to be taken. Palmer was transferred to a different office, one where such distractions were minimal, yet he still found a way to con and scam his way out of actually working and being reported for his misconduct. At this time an insurance scam came to light involving a fire at a job site and Jason Palmer being named as a beneficiary on the insurance.

“I myself only found out about all of this after my father passed and I stepped into his role as head of the company. At that time Palmer appeared in my office by his own volition and resigned, asking only that I grant him his inheritance from my father, a sum of upwards of one hundred thousand dollars. Once this was done, he claimed, he would never darken my door again.

“It was a very lucrative offer. I could easily spare the money, and in retrospect Palmer had all ready cost the company several hundred thousand dollars and innumerable man-hours; this would get him out of the company and effectively out of my life. The previously mentioned lawyer was brought in at Palmer’s suggestion to draw up a legal document detailing the agreement.”

Now, why had Jason never mentioned this? It seemed innocent enough, at least the last part. I could understand not telling me about being a slacker in high school and college; he maybe just wanted to forget about all that stuff and leave it behind him. Yeah, it irked me that he skated by. The worst part was the harassment accusations and wasting company time and money! I’ve dealt with all three in the past, but from many different people, my younger sister and mother being prime suspects in the last two. For all three things to be found in one person, and carry over from place to place? Ooh, I was hopping mad. If Davlin Fredericks hadn’t given me the lawyer’s card, I would’ve thought he was making it all up.

“Once the agreement was signed and Palmer had his money, I saw nothing of him for the next two years. I was kept informed of his activities and whereabouts though I made no contact with him; it was last summer when he intruded again on my life and that of my sister.

“Last August, before Evey was to enter her final year of secondary school, I allowed her to go with a group of friends and a chaperon to Seattle for the end of her school holiday. The chaperon, I was sorry to find out, was hardly fit for the job, being an old girlfriend of Jason Palmer and older cousin of one of Evey’s friends. It was through the chaperon that Palmer found out about the trip and made convenient plans to be in the area shortly after their arrival.

“I was well aware that the money my father had left for Palmer in his will was almost gone. I will not bore you with a laundry list of purchases and squandering, however vague it might be. One of my many failings has been a lack of forethought as to just what Palmer would do for money; I did not foresee what he was about to do.

“The aforementioned chaperon was supplying the group with alcohol, aided and abetted by none other than Jason Palmer. He had insinuated himself into the group by virtue of his being familiar with the chaperon and Evey, with whom he had always been on excellent terms with and who was unaware of his past history. Another failing on my part, and one that I regret more than anything.

“While out one evening, Palmer, for lack of a more suitable term, seduced my sister and took advantage of her despite her protests.”

Nothing in my vast vocabulary could describe my reaction to that sentence.

“Evey was able to escape and called me, in tears, from the hotel lobby. As fate and luck would have it, I was about to join the group as a surprise for Evey and had just arrived. Once the police report was filed and she was examined by a doctor, Evey and I returned home. There was some doubt as to her returning to school in September, though it was overcome and Evey finished with top marks in June.

“Miss Benjamin, I would not have told you this if I did not believe you to be trustworthy; obviously this matter is of no small delicacy, and that is why I have not made Palmer’s conduct known. Formal charges have been made against him, but until recently his whereabouts have not been known, and when he resurfaced I was advised by my legal team and Evey’s therapist to let the matter drop for the time being. This, along with an unresolved issue dealing with an investigation into the numerous insurance scams that Palmer has been linked to, would be damaging to many, many people if it were to be made public knowledge. Not only would my company suffer and the people I am responsible for; on a personal level, should this be brought to light there is the risk of undoing all the progress Evey has made in the healing process. Perhaps my true motive is selfish; however my sister is by far the most important person in my life and deserves all the care I can afford her. I hope you can understand this, being one who also takes a great interest and prodigious care of your own sisters.

“I am aware that this may be distressing to you; please believe me that I would not impart this knowledge if I did not think it utterly imperative in completing your understanding of Jason Palmer. I hope I wish you all happiness in the world, Miss Benjamin. A woman of your taste and intelligence can expect and command nothing less.

“Yours in Friendship,

“Davlin Fredericks”

I had to reread the letter several times before the whole thing sunk in enough for me to process the information Davlin had given me. The cynical little voice in my head was conspicuously silent; I expected to hear it crowing about how much of this was pure hogwash and over-dramatized garbage. Instead I was gently reminded that while Davlin Fredericks was many things, he was not vindictive. I knew without a doubt that he would not make this stuff up; he had no reason to. He had money, power, and respect; why would go out of his way to make life miserable for an idiot who had cheated his way through everything? Even when I worked for him, he wasn’t crazy on purpose or mean to me at all. The man has a mental illness, and he can’t help that his tics are supremely annoying to all those around him.

In spite of all my protestations the night before, by the time I had fully come to terms with everything in Davlin’s letter I was enormously flattered. He took the time to hand write this beautiful, painful letter in a time when emails and text messaging are dominant, and from the looks of it only made one error, which I suspected was left in on purpose.

More importantly, he trusted me with something that only a very select group of people knew.

I was called back to the house by my grumbling stomach. It was past noon, after all, and all I’d had that morning was a bottle of water, and only half of that. Carla, ever intuitive, met me at the door with a peanut butter sandwich.

“I was just about to send Todd after you,” she said. “Davlin and Freddy were here, well, Davlin left a little while ago, but Freddy’s still here. He’s in the living room.”

The look on her face was guilt inducing.

“Hey, Freddy. What’s up?” I said upon entering. The sandwich was left on the kitchen counter, one bite gone.

“Davlin’s blood pressure. I don’t know what you did to him, girl, but he’s a wreck.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Apparently everyone did, and assumed (correctly) that I was the cause.

“Anyway, you two can work that out between yourselves. I, er, we came to tell you and the Colliers that we’re heading out today. Mr. High and Mighty has some business thing to take care of and he’s my ride.”

For one brief moment, I thought the “business” thing was just a crafty dodge to cover up a bruised ego, but I remembered that he was in charge of Fredericks International and therefore a very busy man. It was entirely possible and more than likely that his business emergency was legitimate. The man had all ready lost one night of sleep over me; it would be overly selfish to want more.

“That stinks,” I said. “Can’t you just fly back down there?”

“No, I can’t.” He shuddered at the mere thought. “I hate flying.”

“Even worse! Good luck with that.”

“Gee, thanks. Anyway, it was great meeting you. I hope we’ll run into each other sometime.” He headed for the door and stopped, noticing my camera on a nearby table. “Hey, you never did show me your portfolio.”

“I don’t believe you ever asked, smart boy.”

I fished around my purse and produced a card with my contact info and a link to my online gallery. Freddy thanked me again, gave a nice big hug, and went merrily on his way. There was no sense in having Davlin mad at him for holding up their departure.

“It is a sad thing indeed when friends leave us,” Kathy Van Burke said later that night. I had been unable to talk my way out of this dinner meeting for all I tried; sadly, I had never been able to make myself puke on cue. I might have had a fighting chance if my energy hadn’t been sapped by the events of the morning.

“Naturally, Mrs. Van Burke,” Todd intoned.

“And those boys really care about myself and Anne, not to mention the winery,” she continued, smiling at my semi-cousin’s brown-nosing. “I know Davlin was very reluctant to leave, but one cannot fault him for ensuring that his business is properly run. I believe his affection for the area grows with every visit, and I am certain he will become a permanent resident before long.”

She smiled indulgently at her daughter, who only looked like she was going to be sick. Personally, I found my vegetables to be incredibly interesting at that exact moment. It was infinitely better to let this crazy woman think her nephew actually wanted to marry her daughter than to disabuse her of that notion by revealing that Davlin actually wanted, or had wanted, to marry me.

“And even Miss Elisa Benjamin is sad to be leaving! I see how you hide your face. You should call your employer and get a few more days off. The season is winding down, you won’t be needed-”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Van Burke, but even though the summer is ending, the fall golf season is still underway and the ski season is all ready being booked. I can’t just not go in.”

This was only partially true. Ski season wouldn’t really start until the end of October, but we did have some people booking rooms all ready and the Christmas holidays were completely taken up. There was simply no way I was going to stay one more night at Casa Collier or within 20 miles of Ridgeway Winery and Kathy Van Burke.

Todd “consoled” his boss as best he could while Carla pushed the food around her plate. She saw me roll my eyes at some exceptionally inane comment and suppressed a giggle. Other than Kathy Van Burke making sideways comments about me, the night went remarkably well.

Gina was shocked and sympathetic when I told her about my visit to Todd and Carla the next night, well after Mom had gone to bed. It was the edited version, carefully avoiding anything named Byron Clarke.

“I had no idea!” Gina whispered.

“I know! He completely blindsided me with that proposal.”

“But really, you can’t have been that blasé about it! I’d be freaking out.”

I twisted the corner of my pillow. “I wasn’t blasé about it! I was livid. I basically ripped him a new one, and now I’m regretting it.”

“You couldn’t have know, especially if he didn’t tell you. Even your psychic abilities aren’t that good.” Gina cracked a crooked smile, one corner of her mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“Still…”

“Would you have accepted him?” she gasped.

“Oh, heck no! I just wouldn’t have been such a b- brat about it. I’d’ve been nicer.”

“You? Nicer? Hell would freeze over!”

I walloped her good for that one. While it’s true that I can be a mean old broad, and at that point had been one for a while, I’m not always like that.

“Are you saying I’m mean?” I asked, incredulous at the suggestion.

Gina took her time answering. “I think that you can be unnecessarily harsh sometimes, that’s all.”

“What?!?” I squawked. Now I’m an angry garden gnome?

“Well, you are. And you like it.”

“Whatever.”

Gina let the conversation dropped and merely stared at me for a few moments. I couldn’t stand it, busying myself with de-pilling the comforter.

“What I think,” she said at last, “Is that you actually do like Davlin Fredericks and are feeling guilty about yelling at him.”

Rather than react with my usual violence and vehement denials, I sighed and punched my pillow. “Maybe. I will say there is a certain… affection for him. It’s not love; it’s not even a strong like. This,” I said, holding up the letter, “just makes me understand him better.”

My dear, darling sister simply smiled at me, which made me whap her again with the pillow.

There was not much excitement in the next few weeks. Jason Palmer drifted through the area once on his way south, basking in the attention of the teeny-boppers, my youngest sister included; I was luckily too busy and too angry to see him. Angry garden gnomes carry grudges really, really well.

Gina and I were the only two people in town to know the truth about Jason, and we decided not to share that with anyone. Jason was no longer a fixture in the community and Davlin was still generally disliked, for all that he was gone for the foreseeable future, probably forever. We reasoned that in time, both would be more or less forgotten, one remembered fondly, the other fondly remembered as an arrogant jerk.

Two weeks into September and my new boss dropped a bomb on me.

“Fredericks International has a strict policy regarding vacation time. It has been brought to my attention that you have accumulated about ten days worth of time that must be used by December 31st or you will lose it.”

“But Keith! Can’t I just cash it out? The schedules are all ready made up until the end of October, and then we’ll be too busy for me to take that much time off!”

“As much as I would like that to be an option, it simply won’t work. My orders are very specific; you are to take at least two weeks off sometime between now and the end of the year.” Keith smirked at that; it was clearly evident who had given that directive and Keith thought it was terribly amusing. I simply scowled.

“I just took a week off in August. Didn’t that diminish my vacation time?”

“That is irrelevant,” he said. “You still have two weeks to use up. We’ll make do without you, Elise.”

“It’s not right and you know it!” I cried. “If the summer season was any indicator, winter is going to be brutal. I can’t take any time off if this resort is going to run properly!”

My boss grinned. “That’s my job, Elise.”

“You and I both know that Davlin Fredericks made me your assistant precisely because I am instrumental in daily operations.”

The fun and games were over as soon as those words left my mouth. Keith stopped smiling and lowered his voice. “Davlin made you my assistant because you are a very effective bulldog, which means you take my orders. You have until end of day Friday to submit your vacation request. I don’t care when you take it, just do.”

He made no mention of writing me up for insubordination or impertinence or anything, which led me to believe that I could pretty much do and say what I wanted to Keith and expect little in the way of retaliation. He knew, as did I, that without me the resort would be in a whole lot of trouble.

My Aunt Sarah called that night and I got to unload almost everything on her. Again, I said nothing about Gina and Byron; there had been some rumors that he’d been in the area or was anticipated soon.

“Wow,” she said. “Can you be certain?”

“He gave me a lawyer to contact if I wanted corroboration. Does that sound like a liar to you? Besides, I really don’t think he’s vindictive like that.”

“Uh-huh. Well, anyway, Ben and I are coming up for a week around Thanksgiving. If you want, you can come with us to New York after that; it’s a working vacation for me, but it shouldn’t be too bad. And you’ll use up your vacation time and still be back in time for the Christmas rush.”

“That is a fabulous idea, Aunt Sarah!” I said, warming to the plan immediately. “It should do beautifully.”

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I was ready for a vacation, for all my protests two months before. I was plain old worn out; not only was White Pine Lodge busier than it had ever been in all the years I’d worked there, but trying to keep Mom and Lydia in line and not grousing continually about being overworked and under appreciated was wearing. It seemed that every other day I got some sideways comment about how I was Keith’s pet and didn’t work nearly as hard as they did. I felt it wouldn’t be prudent to tell them that their responsibilities were limited to the restaurant while mine took me all over the resort and they only saw one little slice of what I did. To make matters worse, none of us had heard from Dad in ages, which always made Mom, and likewise Lydia, irritable. The only way we knew he was still alive was because the weekly deposits were made on time.

I tell you, if I hadn’t been planning that trip to New York, I would have been apartment hunting. I had the money; some company bought a series of prints from my online gallery in the biggest size offered, and they sold to the tune of over $1,000! I was free and clear to shop up a storm in the Big Apple. It would have been more responsible of me to put it all into savings, sure, but my paycheck was enough to keep me financially stable.

Aunt Sarah and her boy-toy Ben arrived early on Thanksgiving morning. She was never one for taking her time, and the trip north was a straight shot up I-75. I was a speedy driver, but she made me look like some old granny. I love my aunt!

Keith called me in that morning just to tie up a few loose ends before I left, and I wasn’t able to get out of there until mid-afternoon, which suited me just fine. Unfortunately that left Gina home by herself to act as a buffer between Mom and the world, though Ben had all ready met her a few times and was mostly used to her antics. The place was in one piece when I got home. Mom was clucking over the dinner and I only got one evil look for holding up the meal.

“I tell you, Sarah, I don’t know what will happen to us,” Mom wailed over the remains of the turkey. “All the good men are leaving the state and ones staying aren’t worth the time of day. Nobody can blame Gina- that Byron Clarke was always a bad egg. The whole family is no good. And this one!” she spat, glaring at me, “She’s set to keep us all here just ’cause she didn’t want to get married!”

“Ma, this isn’t Medieval Europe. Familial success does not depend on marriage.”

“Still, you’ll be stuck here forever!” Mom snarled. “Being a burden on me!”

“You don’t know that for certain, Gail. After all, tomorrow is another day,” Ben said. At least Mom listened to me and backed off. Personally, I was ready to fling a spoonful of mashed potatoes at her.

Later, after Mom and everyone else had gone to bed, which is the only time to talk, Sarah and I had our own little tête-à-tête.

“I didn’t want to tell you in front of your mother, but-”

“You and Ben are getting married?!” I tried not to squeal and succeeded.

“Not yet! No, the New York trip is turning into a Chicago trip. Funding fell through on that project and I’ve been dumped into Chicago for a week and a half. Do you mind terribly?”

I honestly had to think about it. I had never been to either city, and New York is infinitely preferable to Chicago, but really, I just wanted to get the heck out of Michigan for a while.

“Not a problem, Aunt Sarah.”

“That’s good. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that Chicago’s a big place and you probably won’t see anyone you know.”

I rolled my eyes at her smirk. I could say in all honesty that my chances of meeting Davlin Fredericks face to face were slim to none.

Even with my aunt’s formidable driving talents (and the radar detector), the ride to Chicago took for-ev-er. Maybe it was just getting out of the house that made it seem that long; the trip took little over 4 hours, given that Google Maps said it would take well over 5 if a normal person was driving. Traffic was not fun.

It was late when we arrived at the hotel; Aunt Sarah needed to stop in at her temporary office to check on some things, leaving me to wander around and find a restaurant nearby for dinner. After checking in we all collapsed into our respective beds, too exhausted to “ooh” and “ahh” over the posh suite reserved for us.

The weekend was ours, sorta, since Sarah officially didn’t have to work and wasn’t due on site until Monday. We ran wild over the city for two whole days, shopping in the morning, museums in the afternoon, dinner and a show after. Paradise, even in December.

While Sarah and Ben worked that week, I was left to my own devices, which is naturally not a good idea. I traipsed through the city, camera in hand, getting lost at every other turn. Thankfully public transportation was my friend and we got on famously. Certain places were off limits, as Sarah and Ben wanted to go too. Shedd Aquarium, for instance. And Fredericks International. I wasn’t about to step foot in the corporate offices of my former, well, still kind of boss even if it reportedly had some of the most fabulous architecture in the city. I did not want to see him, more because I had no idea what would transpire, and that was definitely a bad thing. It was my personal belief that if I did not know how to handle a situation, I should avoid it at all costs, and that belief served me well in the past. No need to test it now.

I didn’t take into account my aunt’s desire to see the building, however, and Thursday afternoon she laid the news on me.

“Rumor has it that the Fredericks International building houses a fantastic art gallery that is open to the public. And I have privileged information with regards to the president of that company: he’s out on business for the week and isn’t due back until Monday. I figure you don’t want to meet up with him, but the gallery might be of interest. I’ve got tomorrow afternoon off and we’re going.”

“…okay then.” There was no arguing with her, even if I wanted to. With Davlin Fredericks gone for the week, I didn’t have to worry about potential awkward situations. I was a sucker for ornate brickwork anyway, and if what I’d heard about the F.I. building was true, I would regret passing up this opportunity later.

My experience with Davlin Fredericks meant my expectations for his place of business were high, and once I stepped into the foyer they were immediately exceeded. The place was built to impress and it worked. Glass and marble and brick and wrought iron. If I was just some newbie stepping inside for an interview or something, I would most likely have messed my pants and cancelled.

The staccato clacking of heels on marble wrenched my attention up from the inlaid marble floors. While Sarah and Ben spoke with the receptionist, a tall, olive-skinned woman approached me, practiced efficiency in her every movement. From her iron-gray bun to her precisely pressed white button-down and neatly tailored skirt. There was a mutual once-over given and though I was amazingly under-dressed, I got the impression that she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it was almost as if I met expectations.

Then it hit me: I knew this woman! I spoke with her nearly every day when Davlin was living at the Lodge; this was Louise Ramberti, his honest-to-G-goodness personal assistant!

At least I hoped that was who she was.

“You must be Elise,” she said. Her voice matched the one I knew! “It’s so good to put a face to a name.”

“Mrs. Ramberti! Hi!” Introductions were made and I had a moment or two to speculate about how she seemed to know it was me. Then again… I’m sure somewhere along the lines someone told her I have curly, flaming orange hair. That is a detail which is hard to forget.

“You weren’t expected, Elise. I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Fredericks isn’t here right now. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

Yeah, right. “Well, my travel plans weren’t really company news,” I said with a smile. “They were fairly last minute.”

“How long will you be in Chicago?”

“Until middle next week sometime, I think,” I replied, looking to Sarah, who nodded.

“Then you’ll have to come back on Monday!”

“I’m sure Mr. Fredericks will be too busy to worry about meeting me.”

“Actually, Mrs. Ramberti, we were hoping to see the gallery. Sarah and I won’t be available on Monday,” Ben said, turning on his charm to cover his interruption. Thank goodness it worked!

“Oh, of course. Right this way.”

We were taken on a short tour of the building, ending on the third floor just outside a set of doors with the Fredericks International logo etched into the glass. The interior was dark.

“This is the Fredericks family personal art gallery. Edward Fredericks began his private collection at the turn of the last century, and both his son and grandson have contributed to the collection over the years. It was Davlin Fredericks who decided to dedicate a gallery open to the public, and tours are normally conducted in the morning hours during the work-week.” Mrs. Ramberti stationed herself at the door while the rest of us looked around. Her monologue went on uninterrupted while we poked around.

“The collection comprises works from nearly every artistic period and movement. Some of the more valuable pieces are on loan to various museums. This is only a representative sample of the complete collection.”

“This is fabulous, Mrs. Ramberti!” I said. Sarah and Ben seconded my assessment.

A series of portraits lined one alcove, basic headshots of each head of Fredericks International. Looks skipped a generation, I thought. Davlin looked more like his grandfather than his father, even if it was hard to tell given the stern look on Daddy Fredericks’ face. From the few times I’d seen Davlin smile, he looked more like his Grandad.

Beside Daddy Fredericks’ portrait was another. The photograph was older, from the mid-90s, and featured a very young Jason Palmer with a gentleman who had to be his father. I looked at Sarah, who raised her eyebrows. Odd.

“That is a portrait of Mr. Theodore Palmer and his son, Jason. It was taken just after the late Mr. Fredericks took on Mr. Palmer as his business partner.” Mrs. Ramberti spoke with reverence for Mr. Palmer, it seemed, but her tone held one of disappointment when she mentioned Jason.

“I had a chance to meet Jason when he was working on White Pine Lodge.”

“Yes, Mr. Fredericks mentioned him. Young Mr. Palmer has been quite a disappointment to both his parents and to Mr. Fredericks. Such a waste of potential.”

This fit with what Davlin said, but since I hadn’t filled Sarah in with that information, she nudged me. I nudged back and let the subject drop.

An empty space along the opposite wall drew my attention as I tore myself away from the family portraits. I smiled in spite of myself; not only did looking at Davlin’s slightly smiling photo do me a world of good, but seeing that something new was coming in made me giddily happy. Always support art!

Aunt Sarah and Ben were still talking with Mrs. Ramberti and apparently having a grand old time. My aunt and her boyfriend are natural charmers, and Mrs. Ramberti liked to be charmed. I think that’s why she liked me so much: I was always doing or saying something amusing whether I intended to or not.

The rattle of a handcart drew all attention to the door, where two workmen stood waiting, a handful of draped canvases in tow.

“Aw, geez, sorry Ms. Ramberti,” the first one, Sam by the name embroidered on his jacket, said. “We didn’t know you were conducting a tour. The new installation arrived and we wanted to get it up before the weekend.”

Mrs. Ramberti raised one eyebrow. “That’s not possible. Mr. Fredericks wants to supervise the installation himself, and as you know he’s not back yet.”

“But-”

“Perhaps we should go,” Sarah said.

“Mrs. Ramberti!” a new voice cut in, a voice I knew all to well, actually. My heart rate increased exponentially as none other than the man himself, Mr. Davlin Fredericks, strode into the room. He was fiddling with his cuffs. “Mrs. Ramberti, I-”

He looked up mid-sentence and saw me. He flushed, brow furrowing, then broke into a wide grin. One of my ribs broke from trying to contain my heart.

“Miss Benjamin! This is certainly unexpected.” He shifted his attention back to Mrs. Ramberti. “As you can see, I’m back a little early. I asked Sam and Doug to hang the new pieces.

“You will stay, won’t you?” he asked me. “I believe you will appreciate this.”

“I- uh…” I glanced at Sarah, who shrugged. “I guess so. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were with others. Will you introduce me?”

So that’s how my aunt and her boyfriend were formally introduced to psycho-boss-cum-semi-normal-guy Davlin Fredericks. I say semi-normal because he was still twitchy and not touching people, but was clearly more relaxed than the last time I saw him.

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” I blurted when he approached me again. He flushed again, looking somewhat sheepish.

“I’m not sure I should apologize for showing up at the office I work in during the regular work week,” he said finally, though with a shadow of a grin. “I came home earlier than planned as I want to personally retrieve Evey from the airport. It seems I made it even earlier and decided to oversee the new installation.”

I had to quickly banish the image of his sister sitting on the baggage claim with a destination tag plastered to her forehead.

“Back from college all ready?! How’s she doing?”

“Well, very well. The first few weeks were rough, but she managed.”

“You mean you managed,” I teased. First test for the newly improved Davlin Fredericks.

He laughed. First test passed! “I suppose. Actually, if you’re going to be around this weekend- or if you even want to, I mean-”

I could not think of any other time in my history with him where Mr. Fredericks had been at a loss for words.

“Evey would like to meet you,” he confessed. “She has for a while. She doesn’t know you’re in town, I mean, but-. Ah.”

“I’d love to meet your sister,” I said, saving him from further perceived embarrassment.

“Excellent. When would be a good time?”

Here was the difficult part. My group had plans in place for the weekend, and I was sure Davlin wanted to work on Monday. Ben, ever-helpful sort that he is, solved the problem. I should have been able to come up with the solution he did.

“Well, we’re going to the aquarium tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us.”

“That sounds like a great plan. It’s been a very long time since Evey and I have been there. When would you be going?”

“The plan was to go early, but your sister will probably want to sleep in. How about 1?” I suggested.

“We can meet earlier-” Davlin protested. I cut him off.

“It’s been a long time since you were a college student, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” he replied, matching my grin. “Though I do recall you’re not exactly the earliest of risers yourself, Miss Benjamin.”

I flushed this time, and thankfully Ben and Sarah hid their smirks, else I would have had to beat both of them senseless.

“One it is.”

“Uh, Mr. Fredericks?” Sam the handyman said, “The new prints are up.”

As a group we all turned to admire the new artwork. I nearly messed my pants. There, in four huge frames were my photographs, the ones from my gallery!

“You?!” I gasped, “You bought them?”

He nodded.

“But… why?”

“I liked them.”

“No other reason?” My ego inflated just a little at the possibility of an ulterior motive.

“No other reason.”

And just like that, no more inflated ego. I felt so foolish! I immediately began kicking myself for not paying attention to who bought what.

“Evey picked one out for her dorm, too. A smaller print.”

I gaped at the display. My photos were hanging between works by Ansel Adams and Laurelle Marie Riggins!

While I stared, Davlin was pulled away to answer a phone call.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, giving a small smile and bowing out of the room.

My heart rate didn’t return to normal for an hour and a half, and it was almost dinner time before I realized we had actually left the F.I. building. I finally admitted to myself that Davlin Fredericks knew how to push all the right buttons… after, of course, he was no longer interested in that way