Chapter 12 #2
“You have no reason to feel either way. You’re not inferior to anyone. You’re a bright and beautiful woman and a successful entrepreneur. Remember that. This is just a temporary setback. Your gallery will be rebuilt, and you’ll do better than ever.”
His words made her feel wonderful. She suddenly saw herself like he saw her…and she liked what she saw. “Especially, with you doing a one-man show. Everyone will want to see your paintings. They’d come in if it was only one painting and not a gallery full.”
He grinned. “Seriously, tell me how you feel. You’re really good for my ego.”
She playfully swatted his closest arm. “Oh, go ahead and make fun, but it’s the truth and you know it.”
They were now home, and she pulled into the garage and killed the engine.
“I’m trying to get you to realize that even though your gallery burned to the ground, you’re still a lucky woman. It could have been you in that gallery instead of Heather.”
Alexis closed her eyes, her throat burning, and let out a sob.
“It was supposed to be me. Don’t you understand?
I was the one scheduled to open that day, but then Heather called and said she needed the extra hours and asked to open.
She died instead of me. How am I supposed to live with that?
” She buried her face in her hands, crying for the friend she lost and the guilt she felt. “It should have been me.”
Peter removed his seatbelt and turned his body toward her.
“It’s likely the people who burned down the gallery thought she was you.
I think you were targeted and supposed to be the one to die.
I took you away from there to keep you alive, as much as anything.
” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want you to die, Alexis.
I care for you and want you to live. My man in Aspen should be calling with an update in the morning.
Tonight, we will have a nice dinner, go to a fundraiser, and do some dancing.
We will not think about the gallery, or Horace, or even Heather. ”
She sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It feels wrong to enjoy myself in the wake of all that has happened.”
He reached over and placed a hand on her leg.
“It’s not wrong to continue to live. Do you honestly believe that Heather would want you to blame yourself for something that was totally out of your hands?
Could you have known this would happen? Did you know for certain that Horace would hire men to start the fire and put you out of business?
” He shook his head. “No. You didn’t. You couldn’t.
None of us thought Horace was that evil.
“Whatever happens now, you need to promise me you won’t be alone with Horace.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Even if he didn’t mean for Heather to die, his men did it. I believe that and, unless it’s definitively proven that I’m wrong, I will always believe that.”
“I appreciate your concern.” Although she took comfort from his touch, she retrieved her hand from him. “But I can handle Horace. I’ve been handling him for years. Yes, he might have upped his game, so to speak, but I can still handle him.”
“Perhaps, but can you handle his goons? They’re the ones you need to fear.”
Alexis shook her head. “I can’t live in fear. I won’t.”
Peter sighed. “Let’s forget this for now and just have a nice time tonight. I need it, and so do you. It’s been a trying few weeks.”
“All right. Tonight will be for pleasure.”
“Good.”
Peter exited the car and came around to open her door. Then Peter carried her dress when they entered the house and carried it up to her room.
Alexis made herself comfortable on one of the stools at the island in the kitchen. She looked around and decided she could be happy in a kitchen like this. Granite countertops and a farmhouse sink with a bronze-colored fixture, were in front of her on the island.
She saw an eight-burner range with a side-by-side double oven, one of which looked like a convection oven.
He had a beautiful copper hood over the stovetop, that went up to the ceiling.
The backsplash was a scene from a kitchen showing a bowl full of eggs, a standing mixer and bowl, hanging utensils, and various jars of beans and other legumes. It was done entirely in copper.
It was amazing and she’d never seen anything like it. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of it. Miranda would never believe she’d seen this if there wasn’t a picture.
“I see you’re admiring my stove.”
Alexis shook her head. “Not just the stove, but the entire kitchen. How did you or where did you find copper appliances? I mean the stove, I might could see, but the refrigerator and the dishwasher? Where did you find those?”
Peter laughed. “You’d be surprised what a little money can get you. People will build anything for the right price.”
She let out a short breath. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Would you like some late lunch? I can have Veronica make us something.”
Alexis leaned against the Gallery island. “Who’s Veronica?”
“That would be me.”
A small woman with black hair and the palest skin Alexis had ever seen, came into the kitchen.
She held her hand out to Alexis. “Veronica Chase. He,” she jutted her chin toward Peter, “has some fancy name for me, but I’m the cook and housekeeper. Nothing less, and way more.” Veronica laughed at her own joke.
Alexis took her hand and shook it. “Alexis Armstrong, art gallery owner. Well, at least, I was. My gallery burned to the ground two days ago.”
Veronica frowned and clasped Alexis’s hand with both of hers. “Oh, you poor thing. Let me fix you some lunch. I have some wonderful chicken salad, if I do say so myself, that I can make sandwiches with.”
“I can vouch for the chicken salad. It is the best I’ve ever eaten, though if you tell my mother, I’ll deny I said it.” He chuckled.
Alexis laughed.
So did Veronica. “Well, you two sit at the table, and I’ll get you each a glass of iced tea and those sandwiches. Go on now, sit.” She made shooing movements with her hands.
Peter headed to the nook and sat at an oval-shaped, oak table.
Alexis followed and sat across from him on the padded, ladder-back oak chair.
Bustling in with a glass of iced tea in each hand, Veronica set them on the table. “Do you take sugar or lemon, Alexis?”
“Neither, but thank you.”
“Of course.” She hurried back into the kitchen.
“Does she ever slow down?” Chuckling, she watched Veronica go.
“Not that I’ve ever seen, and she’s worked for us, my family and myself, for more than twenty years.
She’s only been with me for about three months.
Before that, she was with Cole for a couple of years, and before that, she was with Mom and Dad.
She has always taken care of us, even as children.
When Cole married, he had no need for a cook and a housekeeper any longer.
His wife loves to cook and they hired a cleaning crew to come in once a week.
I immediately made my wishes to have her at my home, known.
Here she has her own house out in the woods for privacy.
In the warm months she drives a golf cart back and forth.
The rest of the year she drives a Jeep Wrangler, or she stays here at night. ”
“She must love working for you.”
“I hope so. I don’t know how I would manage without her.”
“Not well, I can tell you. Peter and all his siblings are so messy, it looks like they were raised in a den of wolves.” Veronica set a plate with a thick chicken salad sandwich, a scoop of potato salad, and a scoop of macaroni salad in front of Alexis.
“This looks amazing.” She took a bite of the potato salad and closed her eyes in delight.
It was creamy, with chunks of potato, and a touch of horse radish.
Then she took a spoonful of the macaroni salad and sighed in ecstasy.
It had a touch of mustard that gave it a little bite.
I don’t suppose you’d tell me where you got the salads?
And if you tell me, you made them, I just might scream. ”
The housekeeper grinned. “You better start screaming.”
“I knew it,” Alexis said before she took another bite of the potato salad. “I couldn’t get that lucky.”
Veronica patted her arm. “I’ll give you the recipe. It’s one of Peter’s favorites and I have a feeling you’ll be making it quite often for him.”
Alexis’s cheeks heated when she thought of her and Peter together.
She liked the idea and that surprised her.
She ducked her head with a smile. “Perhaps.” She really didn’t want to get ahead of herself ,or of Peter, but billionaire or not, he surely didn’t go around buying clothes for just anyone… did he?