Chapter 1 #2
“You are not going to wear that! Iris, you need something new. I’m telling you, listen to me. When I met Bear I had that perfect silver dress, it was New Year's, and my hair was up in that funky clip. He said I nearly stopped his heart with how?—”
“Okay, you know my size. Get me something. Go shopping while I get started on my day, and bring it over. I’m not in the mood to go shopping. I’ve got a zillion things to do; one of them is to call my brother before the day gets too late.”
“Oh, that’s right! Okay, I’ll get you something magnificent. Just go make your call, and when I get there you can try it on for me. I promise you are going to look amazing!”
“Thanks.” Iris hung up before the current conversation rolled into another and she was caught.
She tossed her phone on the bed, drawn to the kitchen, and grabbed the biggest mug she could find. “Oh thank heaven.”
That first sip was the essence of everything that spelled magical morning for her for as long as she could remember. Mom had been the coffee expert, allowing her and Isaac to steal small sips of lukewarm coffee as far back as she could remember as a kid.
Every waking second she’d admired her mother as a child, her mother had carried a coffee mug. At the sink, on the patio, in the living room for the news, Mom carried her juice of life with her like a gun to her shoulder.
She liked her coffee dark and rich, full of sugar and creamer, and with a hint of cinnamon. The first cup went down smooth, the second a little slower than the one before, and the third quenched the need for energy and life.
After a quick shower and some news while planning the agenda for what was left of her little free time, she devoured some eggs, lightly scrambled with a side of sausage. Then it hit her as suddenly as everything else in her crazy morning. “Isaac.”
A press of a finger to his name, and she called him. “Hope you're awake. I don’t got much time but —”
The phone went straight to voicemail. Holding it away from her face, fear pulsed through her thoughts for a moment, as fleeting as the rainstorm they’d promised this morning.
“This is Isaac. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave me a message after the beep, I will get back to you.”
Biting what was left of her fancy manicure, Iris debated calling her best friend to see what she thought, then thought better of it.
Iris spent the day cleaning her house, busy with windows and doors and making sure her apartment was clean.
From top to bottom, she couldn’t stop thinking about her brother.
Something in her gut kept telling her to call him again, but too many times in the past he or his son Wyatt got so busy with his tiny hole-in-the-wall book shop there wasn’t time to do anything but wait it out.
When Claire showed up some time around 2:00 p.m., Iris knew she was in trouble. Standing in front of the floor-length mirror in her bedroom, she sighed, hand pressed to her waist. “It's awful, Claire. I can’t wear this.”
“Yes, you can; you look absolutely gorgeous. It's your perfect color and the way it shapes you, heartstopping.”
Iris ignored the shudder of disgust as she admired the way the fabric accented her curves a little too much for her liking.
“I’m on showcase. I shouldn’t be wearing this at my age.
It's something a young woman wears, not me. Please, I’m going to wear that dress from two years ago, you remember the blue… ”
Certain she could find something to compromise and make her business partner happy, Iris reached to the back of her closet, praying she’d not sent the blue dress to the thrift store. “Here I?—”
Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, Claire shaking her head. “No, not the blue one. This one.”
Her final ace in the hole, Iris frowned. “Fine, but what if Connor suddenly shows up out of the blue? If he sees me flirting and wearing this dress, he’s going to flip out. It will be the worst nightmare either of us can endure.”
Connor, her on-again-off-again situationship of a friendship she couldn’t define, had a way of arriving at the most inopportune time. Tonight would be no exception. A casual date here, a late-night phone call there; hers was living, revolving proof that love didn’t work for her, ever.
Hands on hips, Claire threw her a penetrating glance. “Then I suggest you send him a text message right now that you're heading out of town on business or something. One wrong move from that one and we're sure to lose this account.”
Point taken, Iris threw her eyes heavenward. “Fine, you win! I give up. You win! I better not hear any nonsense about a moonlight walk or a private dinner date if this guy decides he wants to ask me to dinner. Got it?”
A Girl Scout's honor, a cross of fingers across her heart, and their secret handshake from ten years prior, Clair smiled. “Scout's honor, most definitely. I promise I won’t stick my nose anywhere where it doesn’t belong. You look stunning and every man in that room tonight is going to be floored.”
Iris knew not what to say. Over the years, women had commented on her looks, something she’d never given much thought to. A quick clean-up, a soft swipe of makeup and a tassel of her hair, and she was good to go.
Not the kind of woman to invest too much time in her appearance, she preferred to focus on the inside, what mattered most. Still, the compliment from someone who mattered was always nice. The warmth inside, appreciation for being loved she smiled. “Thank you. I love you, too.”
A few hours later, she was not happy finding herself at the front door of their newest ghost tour mansion.
Wilmington's most reputed bachelor extraordinaire was set to host a night to remember, and yet something felt terribly off as a car passed by, tunes blasting from the inside.
Her phone rang just as the front door to the elegant mansion opened. It was Wyatt. “Hi sweetie, I was…”