Champagne Showers (5 page)

“Hugs and I’m proud of you, Danners. Night.”

“Thanks, Clarke. I appreciate you.”

I hit the red end button and head to the kitchen.

Just as I sit down to eat my bowl of cold granola cereal, my phone vibrates across the glass side table.

I hit the green answer button, a little annoyed, what does Clarke need now?

“Listen, I meant it, you can’t have a crack at him!”

“Um, Dani, is that you?” questions a familiar male voice.

Oh shit, who is this? I assumed it was Clarke and didn’t notice the caller ID. I look at the phone and see it’s a blocked number.

“Who is this?” I demand.

“Dani, it’s me, Bradley.” He sounds different.

“Oh hey, Bradley, to what do I owe this call?” This is weird. We haven’t spoken in over six months.

“Oh you know, just checking in.” He sounds somewhat weird, like he is out of sorts. He doesn’t sound like the usual up beat Bradley.

“Great. Okay, so how are you, how’s Spokane and how’s the family?” Seriously, could his timing have been any worse. I’m so not in the mood for him right now. I’m on a natural high and don’t need his nonsense to bring me down.

There is a long silence and then he says, “Well, that’s why I’m calling, actually. I’m moving back from Spokane and I wanted you to hear it from me instead of through the grapevine.”

“Well, that’s great Brad; I bet your parents will love for you and the 'family' to be closer.”

“So, that’s the other thing. We finally got a paternity test a few months ago, and Katelyn isn’t actually mine. After we got the results, she and I had a huge confrontation and she threw me out. I’ve been living in a hotel up here for almost three months now.”

“Oh. Wow, Brad I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, the kicker is that she wasn’t sure who the actual father is. She was so convinced it was me that she didn’t inform any of the other guys that they could be the father.”

“Um excuse me, other guys as in the plural? You really picked a winner there, Brad.”

“Listen, I already lowered myself about as close to pond scum as I can get. I’m sure my slate is now clean with all the debts I’ve had to pay over the last year. I’ve never been so miserable and now, I just want to move forward in my life.”

“I’m glad that you found out early that she wasn’t yours. It might have been really hard later.”

“It was hard enough now. I mean, I’d fallen in love with the little thing the moment I laid eyes on her. Then to find out she wasn’t mine was like tearing my heart out with a rusty set of pliers. The bitch just laughed at me and said I wasn’t man enough to father her child anyway. Needless to say, the last three months I’ve been spending a lot of time soul searching and figuring out how I can make amends to you and everyone else I’ve hurt.”

“Bradley, I appreciate your call and wish you nothing but the best. I’ve moved on and in doing so, I’ve learned to forgive you. I give you permission to seek out happiness in life but now you need to give yourself that same freedom.”

Another long silence.

“I never deserved you, Dani. I never did. You were the best thing in my life and I completely fucked that up. I really am sorry for, well everything.”

Whoa, who is this guy? He was never this humble in all the years I knew him. He was always so pompous and beyond reproach.

“Thank you, Bradley.  I just said that I’ve already forgiven you, but now you need to move on and forgive yourself.”  Wow, now I sound like a self-help guru.

“Thanks, Dani that means a lot. So, I’m going to be back in town the week after next. Would you consider meeting me for coffee?”

Oh, shit. No way do I want to be all chummy with my ex. Not now. I don’t need his baggage. As much as it sounds like he has done some growing up and really wants to make amends, I just can’t be a part of his life again.

“Uh, Bradley, as much as I would love to meet up, I think I’d like more time. I’ve only just gotten to the happy place I’m in and I had to fight myself to get here. I hope you understand.”

“Oh, okay. Um, well I’ll let you go. Take care, Dani, hope to talk again soon.”

I can hear the utter disappointment in his voice, but no matter. Not my problem.

“Bye, Bradley.”

“Bye, Dani.”

It’s Friday morning at precisely 9:54 AM and I find myself in the biggest heap of nerves and have managed to twist my hair around my finger into a knot. I have to calm down. I’m sitting in front of the Columbia building in my Jeep Cherokee. I flip down the visor and open the mirror to give my makeup one last look before I head in. Oh geeze, good thing too, my lips look flat. Without looking, I reach over to find my handbag on the passenger seat. I can’t feel my bag. I look over and I realize that it slid off the seat when I slammed on my brakes to avoid the bicyclist cutting me off. What is it with this damned town and all the bicyclists anyway? I mean this places rains like 9 months out the year, why would you want to commute to work on a bike in monsoons?

It’s usually in the upper 80’s or 90’s this time of year, but not today. Of all days, it’s raining and feels like it’s in the upper 60’s. I just hope my hair survives this drizzle long enough to get inside without going limp and lifeless. Okay, contents of my bag restored, lip gloss in place, now time to get this over with. Note to self: take a deep breath. 

After all the research I did on this man, I’m in awe of Harrison Towers. Professionally, he is a genius. Not only is he a real estate mogul with commercial and residential projects that his company has developed throughout the US and in Montreal Canada, but he is self-made. While his family is old money and power, he came to the US to pave his own way and make his own name. According to an article in Newsweek, he’s been focusing on the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada in British Columbia for the last four years. He recently built the Glass Towers on the west banks of the Willamette River on reclaimed land. He named the development the Three Rivers Project, but it’s better known as Glass Towers. He is now nearing completion, and that is why he wants me to bid on the decorating of the lobbies in all three buildings and the penthouse in the tallest building.

As I walk from my car to the building, I look up and feel an overwhelming sense of calm come over me and a strange sense of coming home. I straighten my back and walk with purpose to the front door and into the lobby, where a man dressed in a pair of camel colored Carhartt pants, work boots, and an oversized camouflage print jacket is exiting.

I check my reflection in the glass door and then enter. I like what I see and I feel confident after updating my wardrobe. Today I chose to wear a pair of black flared slacks with a cream silk blouse tucked in and a chain belt of gold and pearl at the waist, with a pair of black suede pointed toe pumps and a short brick red trench coat. With my new Kate Spade briefcase that my parents bought me, I feel like I look smart and prepared. I decided to leave my purse in the car though. No sense in looking like a packhorse in front of Men’s Style Magazines’ most eligible.

I stop and stare. There he is standing in front of a window that looks out over the river. Oh my, I feel like I’m going to faint… No throw up, no maybe I should just run back outside. He is THE most stunning man in the world. Holy shit, he’s wearing a suit that looks like it cost a fortune, presuming it’s an Armani or something of that ilk. It’s a slim fitting retro style in a charcoal grey. The old look must be his thing. He’s wearing a button up shirt beneath it in the most vibrant cobalt blue that I bet makes his eyes look like pools of sapphires. His sandy blond hair is rather mussed up at the front but at second glance, I realize that not a hair is out of place. Kind of like that intentionally messy look. Someone that good-looking and successful and over 40 must be a womanizer.  Nobody who looks and dresses like that and is single can be a straight shooter. He probably has a woman in every city across this country, and probably in Canada too.

Well, never mind anyway, I’m here to do business. This will be an enormous accomplishment if I land the Towers account. I saw something else on the internet that said he was about to break ground on a new project on the Southern Oregon coast. Apparently, his company also develops resorts throughout the world and his next project has my interest. This kind of project could give Danielle Pyne and Associates a boost in the design community and maybe land me an article in a magazine. The possibilities are exciting but I can’t get ahead of myself; I need to secure this deal first. 

I’m busy envisioning the possibilities when I realize that the object of my attention has advanced toward me with the most breathtaking smile on his face. Oh no, my knees feel weak and my legs won’t move. How are his teeth so white? He closes in on me and says, “Hello, Ms. Austen, thank you for meeting me today.” Ooh, his voice is so smooth and that French accent is enough to weaken my soul. “Ms. Austen?"

Oh gosh, snap out of it, “Oh, please call me Danielle. Thank you for asking me here.”

“Well, my pleasure, Danielle and in that case, please call me Harrison. May I take your coat?” he says this while his capable hands are reaching over to assist me in taking my coat off.

As he is doing this, I fumble with my briefcase and then drop it with a loud THWAP that echoes through the cavernous lobby. There goes my face, ten levels of crimson red that matches my coat, no doubt. “Oh sorry!” I blurt out as he reaches down to retrieve the leather case. “I’m so clumsy sometimes!”

“Not to worry,” he replies as he trades me my case for the trench coat that I managed to remove.

He hands it off to a short dark-haired man who seemingly appears out of nowhere.

“Philippe, please take Ms. Austen’s jacket and bring us an espresso to the penthouse in about 20 minutes.” Then he speaks to him in what I assume to be French.

The strange little dark-haired man, Philippe, responds with a nod says, “Oui.” Then he disappears through a side door off the lobby.

Harrison turns to me with a smirk on his face and says, “Shall we begin?” I nod as he urges me forward with his hand on my elbow and we head over to wall of windows that look out over the murky river. The seamless floor to ceiling windows allow for an unobstructed view of the river and all the natural scenery.

“I wanted to frame the beauty and serenity of the river,” he says, and I nod. “I would like to see the water theme carried out in the three lobbies and the penthouse.”  He turns to look at me with his bright blue pools of water.

I realize that I’m staring at him.

He smirks.

I take in a quick shallow breath.

He smiles this time.

“Danielle?”

“I’m sorry; I’m just taken with the view.” I finally breathe out. “I can certainly work with your water theme. Did you have anything in particular that you had in mind?”

He studies me for a minute then turns and begins to walk away from me toward the other side of the lobby. He says in a loud voice, “Why don’t you give me some suggestions?”

I find myself caught off guard and wonder if I might be in a bit over my head. What am I going to suggest on the fly here that will impress an international mogul?

Without any real thought, I blurt out, “I think a water wall feature over here would be perfect.

I think a privacy glass wall with waves to emulate water over there. The color palette will bring the outdoors in with earth tones and a touch of brightness to counter gray skies such as today.”

He turns back to face me minus the smirk and says, “Danielle, I think we are going to work well together. It seems you get the aesthetic I am going for here.”

After we discuss some more details of the lobby and the other two building lobbies as well, he ushers me to a private elevator in a small hallway near the public elevators. He swipes a solid white credit card looking piece of plastic in front of a flat pad on the wall and the doors open. He guides me into the elevator and as the doors close, he once again swipes the card against a flat pad and the elevator begins its flight to the penthouse.