Dare to Dream. Donna Hill
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She walked to the dishwasher and put the teacups and saucers in.
“Rae.”
Rachel jumped at the sudden sound of her name, grabbed her chest and turned. “Girl, you scared me out of my panties. Whew.” She closed the door to the dishwasher. “Hungry? I was going to fix something.”
“No, actually, I was wondering if you would mind coming with me to the loft.”
Rachel’s thinly tapered brows rose in surprise. “The loft?”
Desiree nodded. “I think it’s time.”
Rachel took a deep breath and a slow smile spread across her face. “Yeah, it is.”
* * *
When Rachel pulled up in front of what was left of the loft, Desiree’s heart nearly stopped. All of the windows were broken out, debris was everywhere, the remnants of her gallery and paintings were piled in a sooty heap against the front door—destroyed. There was yellow caution tape surrounding the building. It looked exactly like what it was—a disaster.
“Do you want to go in?” Rachel asked with hesitation.
Desiree nodded and slowly got out of the car. She walked toward the entrance and looked up at what had once been her apartment. A chilling flash of that night and the terror she felt raced through her. And for the first time she fully understood just how lucky she really was. She hadn’t been spared to spend the rest of her life wallowing in self-pity, she concluded. She’d been given a chance—maybe to start over, live her life differently, change her focus—she wasn’t sure, at least not yet. But she was certain that she’d been spared for a reason.
She turned to Rachel. “I don’t need to go in. There’s nothing for me in there.”
Rachel placed her hand on Desiree’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“It’s the first thing I’ve been sure about in weeks. Let’s go.”
* * *
Desiree was deathly quiet on the trip back. When they returned to Rachel’s apartment Desiree took a seat on the couch. “Let’s talk,” she said.
Rachel took off her red leather jacket and hung it on the coatrack in the foyer. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I know I’ve been a real pain in the ass these past few weeks. And you’ve been a really good babysitter. But it’s time for me to get out of here and for you to get back to your life.”
“Desi, you have not been a problem. That’s what friends are for.”
She nodded. “And I truly appreciate it. But it’s time.”
“Where will you go? What will you do?”
Desiree heaved a deep sigh. “I was thinking of going out to the shore for the rest of the summer. Get my thoughts back in order, maybe rekindle an old spark of creativity.” She flashed a weak smile. “What do you think?”
“I think if that’s what you need to do, then you should do it. But where? Actually you could stay at my place in Highland Beach. They’re still doing renovations, but you would pretty much have the place to yourself.”
“No. I’ve imposed on you enough. And I certainly don’t want to be in the way of workmen.”
“I guess you’re right. So where to then?”
“I was thinking Sag Harbor. It’s always so beautiful there this time of year. Remember when all of the sorors ‘summered’ there during our senior year at Howard?” she asked, affecting an aristocratic accent.
Rachel laughed at the memory. “Yes, the Alpha Delta X did their thing that summer. It is lovely there. Great shops, wonderful restaurants, and it’s peaceful. Maybe you could rent a cottage or something.”
Desiree nodded as the idea began to take shape in her mind.
Rachel leaned forward, excitement brightening her eyes. “If you go, it has to be under one condition.”
Desiree’s brows drew together. “What?”
“You let this be my treat. I’ll arrange for everything. You won’t have a thing to worry about.”
“Rae…I couldn’t.”
“You can and you will.” She folded her arms and pressed her lips together.
Desiree looked at Rachel and knew from the set expression of her eyes and mouth that no was not an option. “Okay.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow. And then we go shopping!”
Desiree laughed for the first time in weeks, and tomorrow suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad thing at all.
Chapter 4
Carl Hampton entered the office building on Madison Avenue in midtown Manhattan and stepped onto the elevator. Hampton Inc. was located on the twentieth floor of the turn-of-the-century building and boasted an incredible view of the Big Apple, one of the reasons he’d chosen the location nearly fifteen years earlier.
Since he launched his investment company, he’d seen the country’s unstable economy topple one business after another. But one thing he’d learned early on was to diversify. His assets and his sights were set on an array of enterprises and opportunities, and he’d amassed enough money to live the way he wanted. It also allowed him to indulge in his pet passion—art. The white-walled reception area of Hampton Inc. was lined with original artwork from around the world. Each of the dozen offices housed at least one treasured piece.
The elevator door opened and his receptionist, Denise, jumped to attention.
“Good morning, Mr. Hampton.”
He murmured something in his throat and breezed by her.
Jake Foxx, one of his investment brokers, stopped him in the corridor.
“Carl, we really need to talk. The lawyers and the accountants need to know what you want to do about that loft thing. We need to get the papers filed and decide what to do with the property.”
Carl cut his eyes at Jake. “Do you think that perhaps I can get into my office before you bombard me with what you need?” he asked with deadly calm. “I pay the accountants, the lawyers and you to take care of things. So take care of them.” He walked off and into his office, slamming the door behind him.
He knew part of the reason for his ill temper was that he had not been able to talk to or see Desiree. It was eating him alive. He was sure that by now she would have contacted him, asking for his help. But not a word, not a call. How could she not need him?
He slammed his briefcase on top of his desk, sending a flurry of papers to the floor. This was not how things were supposed to be. Desiree should have been his by now. Hadn’t he shown her how much he cared? Hadn’t he provided for her every need? She’d come to her senses and realize what a fool she’d been to turn her back on him. The building, the exhibit, none of it mattered. The only thing that made a difference in his life was Desiree, and he had to find a way to finally make her understand that.
* * *
“Sorry, ma’am, we’re full and probably will be for the next two weeks. You can try us back then.”
“Thanks.” Rachel sighed and hung up the phone. She’d called every bed-and-breakfast on Sag Harbor and received the same response: “Full, please call back.” Short of going out there herself and scouting the places, she didn’t know what else to do.
She leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. She couldn’t let Desiree down, not after all the huffing and puffing she’d done, swearing that she would take care of everything.
Running out of options, Rachel decided to call the tourist bureau. After about twenty minutes, the very