Chapter 3
James stared into Mariah”s bright brown eyes. They were light brown, with flecks of gold in them, giving them a warm glow. They reminded him of sunlight and the most beautiful gold jewelry that Ore made. They also reminded him of Anastasia.
“Take your pick,” he said again gently. She had not responded the first time.
She squirmed in his grasp and tried to stand. He continued supporting her weight as she stood upright. Her body was petite in his broad hands.
He felt reluctant to let go of her as she settled on her feet. So, he moved his hand from her waist to her hand, telling himself he needed to have a grip on her in case she almost fainted again.
Her face flared red, and she looked away from him. “It’s fine, Mr. Sorenson.”
“But I insist. You need rest, and you need it quickly. You won”t rest here, so…” his fingers lingered over her soft hand, and he reluctantly let her go.
Mariah looked at the ground contemplatively, and with a deep breath, her shoulder sagged in defeat. “Okay, but I promise this will never happen again. You’ll never need to–”
“It’s fine,” A wide grin broke on his face. “I know the drill. I’m the client, you”re the vendor. We aren”t supposed to be on friendly terms. All this driving each other home is unprofessional.”
“A bit egocentric, don”t you think,” she chuckled lightly, picking up his joke. “I guess this one time is okay.”
“Of course,” James couldn”t help the tease in his voice, happy she was looking less pale now. “But let’s leave that to fate to decide, okay?” He smiled and held out his arm for her to take hold of. She stared at it in horror, and he laughed. His voice sounded like bubbly water from a spring. “Aren”t you a funny creature? It’s just an arm, Mariah. It won”t bite–or do anything unprofessional–because it’s attached to me.”
She glared at his arm for a moment, but then she reached out and linked her arm with his.
He teased again, “See, that wasn”t so hard, now, was it?”
Mariah smiled weakly at him, and he led her off the gazebo towards the driveway where his car was parked. He felt excited suddenly and eager to see what facial expression she would give if he said something funny or showed her something interesting.
It was his second time meeting Mariah Sanchez, but he had one word to describe her: intriguing.
He felt her small frame mold into the side of his muscular torso as she took his arm. He gave her a little smile, to which she responded with a blush.
Very intriguing indeed.
***
The next day, James stood tall in his garden among the blossoms of white flowers like a forest nymph amidst a valley of flowers. The sunlight bounced off the green leaves and reflected in his eyes, making them even greener. He wore a white light cotton shirt cuffed at the elbows and brown pants that matched his honey curls.
He had a pair of shears in one hand and a bouquet of white roses in the other. Alongside him in the garden was a chubby woman wearing black pants and a pink shirt. She bent down and cut off a beautiful rose from its stem and handed it to him.
“Aunt Emma, I think this is enough,” he said with a smile. “Take any more, and it would be ‘off with your head.’” It was a phrase he used whenever his stepmother got angry about the state of her garden. Her tantrums were always epic.
Emma rose to her feet, pulled off the gloves, and ran her fingers through her black hair streaked with gray. “She ordered the roses for today”s dinner with Senator Franklin.”
“I don”t intend to attend that dinner,” James said, handing the shears to Emma. “So why am I helping?” He looked at the white petals that blended with his shirt, and he smiled.
“Because you are a sweet boy,” Emma said with a smile, patting his cheek. He smiled back. As far back as he could remember, Emma had been a part of the Sorenson staff. When his mother died, it was heartbreaking and lonely for the first few months.
Emma had been the one who had cared for him like a son, even after his father had remarried. To him, she was more of his mother than Elaine could ever be.
“I know I am,” he grinned and placed his hand above hers. “You raised me.”
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It caught his attention, and he looked up to see Mariah walking in his direction with Greg.
She sported maroon plaid pants, a white dress shirt, and a maroon woolen vest that matched her pants and black boots. She walked briskly to keep up with Greg’s longer strides. Her ever-present black satchel swayed as she walked. She looked better than the last time he had seen her, less pale and clammy.
She was in a conversation with Greg and smiled brightly at something he said. Her hand pushed back thick copper strands from her eyes. It made James smile.
“I have to go,” he regarded Emma again. “Do me a favor. Leave my dinner in my room for me?”
“Of course,” The elderly lady nodded and turned towards the house. Before she was out of reach, James snatched a single rose from her bouquet. She turned with a stern look in her eyes, and he winked at her, bringing the flower to his nose. She laughed, shaking her head in amusement, and disappeared into the tall hedges.
James spun the flower over and over again between his fingers as he met Greg and Mariah halfway to the gazebo. He noticed her beautiful curls weren”t in a ponytail like the last time. Instead, they were piled on top of her head in a bun that was begging to let itself loose. Schooling his hands to not reach out to tug her hair free, he focused on her shy smile instead.
She had every reason to look shy after she almost fainted during yesterday’s meeting. He knew she had felt embarrassed when he had to drive her home. She had barely been able to stand when they had gotten to her front door, but she had assured him she could carry herself past her door and would be fine with rest. He hadn”t believed her and had waited by the car until she had waved him off through her window.
He had been worried as he had driven back home and had wondered if rest was all she had needed. Now, seeing her standing in front of him and looking as beautiful as ever, he was inclined to believe her.
“For you,” he lifted the white rose to her. “It would look beautiful in your hair,” he heard himself say without thinking. She blushed and took it from his hand.
“This way,” he said, leading her towards the seats. Greg walked away, muttering something about a snack, and disappeared into the house. James chuckled at his friend”s habit of disappearing whenever they were working from home.
Greg didn”t live in the Sorenson house, but as James” PA, it was the first place he came to every morning and was often the last place he was at every evening before going back to his apartment in the city. James was so familiar with his presence that Greg felt more like his brother than did Martin.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked as they settled into the chairs. The chairs were a creative mixture of white cast iron and wood, with padded seats. He had changed the older ones for something more comfortable, knowing fully well that Mariah was coming back for more interviews.
“Better,” she said and brought out a brown notepad and a pink Sharpie from her satchel.
“You feel better, or you are better?” He pressed.
“I feel better,” she mumbled and gave him a small smile. “These episodes… they come and go, ever since I was younger,” she said. She was trying to persuade him to believe her. “Doesn”t stop me from working though. I learned to reduce the effect of them over the years.”
James says her explanation is unnecessary. He wasn”t going to fire her, not when he was finding her more interesting by the day. “If you say you feel better, then I believe you. Shall we continue from where we stopped last time?”
“Yes, of course,” Mariah nodded. As he talked about his plans for the orphanage, he watched her. There was no tremor in her movements as her pen skimmed smoothly across the paper. Her skin wasn”t pale or clammy. Instead, it had a healthy glow. Her hazel eyes shone with excitement behind her glasses as she explained the possible layout of the orphanage.
She suggested he have a separate building for boys and another for girls, both linked by a central building that would house the classrooms, playroom, administrative areas, kitchen, dining area, and other communal areas.
She smiled at his plans for decorating the buildings. He thought they should decorate the girls” building in pink with Hello Kitty and all things pretty, while the boys should get a sporty theme. He felt relieved when she laughed and said his plans for the boys were boring and that an outdoor sports area might appease them.
---------------
An hour into the interview, James was animated. They were on their feet now. Mariah”s hand was resting on the table, and she leaned on it while she stood. James leaned against the edge of the table, right beside her.
They had shifted their discussion of the building to the children who would live in it. James was delighted that she knew so much about kids, especially orphans.
Mariah suggested they give each child an opportunity to decorate their side of a room and express themselves through their decor. James was ecstatic. It might be the one thing Anastasia”s Orphanage might have that most others didn”t have. The idea was beautiful, but he had questions.
“We cannot just leave a room bare, waiting for a child to occupy it. Then wait for them to decide what they want it to look like before we decorate it. Children are indecisive. It would take months for them to decide!”
“Most rooms would have the same design, with the same bed and wardrobe arrangement, even down to spacing, but that would be all. If you provide supplies, the kids and caretakers can do something unique with each child”s space. Or we could have pre-designed rooms and bare rooms–they”ll have a choice.”
James considered the two options. He knew Mariah would do a brilliant job if he chose any option. He remembered that Anastasia had been a staunch supporter of freedom of expression. She would like the first option better. If he didn”t want to spare the cost, then–
“Hey, Li’l bro!” Martin’s voice broke through his thoughts. He whipped his head around to find Martin leaning on the wraparound balcony on the second story above them. Martin was dressed in a blue polo shirt and white shorts. He had a smug grin on his face. “What are you two up to?
James rolled his eyes with a sigh, and Mariah giggled. “You don”t like him very much, do you?” she whispered so that Martin could not hear.
“I do like him. He”s my stepbrother, but Martin is very—” James started to explain.
“Is that Sweet Pea?!” Martin called out again to them. And they laughed.
“He”s like that,” James” shoulders shook as he tried to suppress laughter. He turned to Martin and yelled back. “She”s not a Pea, Martin!”
“Does she like carrots instead or Tomatoes? She has amazing hair, now. Hey, red hair! You like sweet tomatoes, don”t you?!”
Mariah looked at James with eyes wide with amusement. “I see what you mean,” she whispered to him and then turned to Martin and said in a loud voice so that he could hear her, “No, I don”t! And I”d appreciate it if you stop with the pet names!”
James wasn’t sure whether Martin didn”t hear her or just didn”t care that she clearly wanted to be left alone. “Stay right there, Carrot Cake. I”ll be right down.”
“And I believe that”s your cue to leave,” James whispered, standing straighter. Mariah followed his lead, and he couldn”t help but notice how small and fragile she looked standing beside him. “That”s if you wish to leave on time and not be accosted by Martin.”
“I wish to leave,” Mariah replied, already walking off the gazebo.
“Then I”m obligated to show you the quickest route out, and away from Martin’s path.” He grinned and gently turned her in the direction of the garage. “Greg!” he called loudly, and Greg sauntered out through an open door.
“You called, Sire,” Greg leaned forward, giving a little bow, and grinned.
“Mariah needs to leave the premises, discreetly. Take my fastest car. And ensure Martin doesn”t see the Lady,” James commanded.
“Yes, Sire!” Greg was on the move immediately, leading Mariah by the small of her back towards the far end of the yard where the garage was. Mariah played along with a smile.
James chuckled as he watched them go. Then he let out a deep breath. Stepping off the gazebo, he made for the kitchen door, not wanting to be outside when Martin arrived and realized Mariah was gone. He met Emma by the door.
“Was that Allison I just saw?” she asked, looking over his shoulders in the direction Greg and Mariah went.
“Allison?” he asked, stepping over the threshold into the pristine granite kitchen.
“Allison Chandler. You know, Anastasia”s mother. Pretty woman with pretty red hair. I could have sworn that was her.”
James had met Anastasia”s mother when he was a child. She had been a petite woman with gorgeous red hair and always had a smile on her lips. She had been a middle school teacher and had hosted the loveliest Sunday luncheon. James had snuck out of the house on several Sundays to join the Chandlers at church and go to their home afterward for lunch.
He remembered Saturdays spent in the Chandlers” house. The smell of brownies baking in the oven, Allison humming a hymn and grading papers, and Anastasia with a storybook in hand. His most precious memories of Anastasia were from days spent at her home. However, his memories of the Chandler family’s voices and faces had faded over time.
Anastasia had reminded him so much of his mother. When they were together, he felt as though he had been given a second chance at being close to his mother. She had drawn him in as his mother had done in a way he could not explain. Losing her had been like losing his mother a second time. It had been almost too much to bear. For a time, he had blamed himself for both their deaths.
He rubbed his chest, trying to lessen the pain that gripped his heart as the memories came. “Allison is gone, remember?” he choked on the words. “The entire family went missing and no one ever found them. The police said they might have been victims of an accident.”
James pursed his lips and willed the bile in his throat to disappear. Placing his hand on Emma’s shoulders, he said. “Memory is a treacherous thing, Aunt Emma. I should know, but that was not Allison. It was Mariah Sanchez, an architect Veronica hired to help draw up the building plans for an orphanage that I intend to build in Anastasia”s honor.”
“Oh,” was all Emma managed to say before James dropped his hand from her shoulder and walked past her with quick strides, hoping she didn”t see the sheen in his eyes.