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“That does sound interesting,” she replies. “Brontë has always had one foot out the door, so to speak. I think she feels a little trapped here. She’s always loved a good adventure. Maybe this will help.”

“Do you know what she had planned to do after modeling?” She’s never told me what her aspirations were. I know you can’t model forever.

“I’m not sure she knew. She would have landed on her feet regardless. Her life always seems so full.”

“I remember that,” I say. Her mother turns to face me better. “When we met, I remember how full of life she seemed. Like nothing could hold her down. She never gave me a chance to grow bored and move on. Every word she spoke enchanted me.”

“How sweet. I’m glad you joined us tonight. We need to get to know each other better. Especially since we’ll now be forever connected.” Her gaze drifts past mine to where Brontë is arguing across the table with one of her sisters. There’s so much love in them.

I wonder if my mother ever really looked at me that way. Or were we always just an annoyance they had because it was expected? The reason she had to give up her practice was to be seen as the perfect mother. Her pregnancy must have been heartbreaking.

I turn to look at Brontë. I never want her to feel that way. If she wants to jet around the country designing rooms, I’ll be there to support her. Hell, if she wants to fly to the damn moon, this baby and I will be there when she gets back.

I’m in love with her. I can admit it freely. Not to her, I don’t want to spook her away. But I’ve never wanted someone to be a part of my life like I want her to. I can make us work.

I don’t know what step I’m on now with my plan, but I’ve officially met the family on even ground. Her dad didn’t shoot me, and her mother even acts like she kind of likes me. It’s enough for now.

seventeen

BRONTË

“Well, what’s our first impression?” Rand asks. I’m standing between him and Peter, staring up at a beautiful old school building in Denver. It’s two stories of red brick with a dormer window on the roof above the front door. Decorative eaves wrap around the building.

I open my mouth to answer but say nothing. I’m just along for the ride, not to give opinions.

“It’s definitely old,” Peter says. “According to the information, it predates both World Wars.”

“It’ll take a lot of work,” Rand agrees. “I have a structural engineer meeting us here to see if it’s even salvageable.”

“It’s gonna need a roof. Windows. They’ll need to be as historically accurate as possible. It has a historical designation, so we’ll have to work with the preservation society.”

“Probably new electric and plumbing.”

Listening to them is a little like being at a tennis match. Since they’re both taller than me, the words just fly over the top of my head. They both stare straight ahead taking in every detail. “What would we do with it?” Peter shrugs, and both men fall silent.

“Retail on the first floor,” I finally say. I can’t help it if they can’t see the potential in this wonderful old building. It’s perfectly plain to me. And since when have I ever kept my opinion to myself? I don’t want to start now. “Upscale offices on the top.” They both look at me.

“Explain your reasoning to me,” Rand says.

“Well, it’s in an up-and-coming area. Lots of start-ups will be looking for offices. It’s not very residential anymore, so apartments won’t work. A coffee shop, bistro, and boutique shops on the main floor would pull people in. It would also add to the value of the properties in this area. It’s just a thought.” I shrug. I mean, I’m not the expert.

They’re standing on either side of me, giving me their full attention. It’s both a heady feeling and an unnerving one.

Peter and Rand go back to staring at the building. I’m going to need one of them to say something soon, or I’m going to burst. Do they think it’s a good idea, or am I being politely ignored?

Being the new girl on the real estate development team sucks. And I’m not even officially part of the team. I’m just the person who made them late this morning because I was up half the night with a raging case of heartburn.

“I like it,” Peter finally admits.

“I do, too,” Rand agrees.

I’m almost giddy with pride. They like my idea. Not that it will be the best in the end, but I feel like I just stepped through a new door.

A car pulls up next to the chain-link fence that protects the building from vandals. The man from the city steps out. A truck with the logo of an engineering company parks behind the car. Introductions are made, and the city man slips a key into the padlock. The gate swings open. I start through, but Rand takes my arm.

“You don’t need to go inside. We don’t know what’s in there. Could be asbestos or unsafe conditions or mold. I think it would be best if you either wait in the car, or our driver can take you to the hotel,” he says.

I would like to argue, but he makes sense. Since the baby started kicking, neither of us seems willing to do anything risky. My size has become a big deterrent also. It’s hard to be as adventurous as I was before I was toting around an extra person.

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