Part 5 (2/2)
There was a sound in the room as if all the air had been sucked out in one loud whoosh. Caroline's fingers clenched into a fist, pulling the fabric of his jacket tight. That tiny movement, unseen to anyone else in the room, matched his own dismay. A hard lump of despair settled in his gut as he read the words on the s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s plaque.
Cedar Point Hotel and Restaurant, engraved in a fancy font, beamed out at the room in an unequivocal fas.h.i.+on. There was no denying this renovation had been for one purpose only: turning one of the most beautiful antebellum estates of Th.o.r.n.y Hollow into a commercial enterprise.
”We're excited to open to the public immediately, including weddings and graduation parties.” Mrs. Werlin nodded, as if the idea of hundreds of rowdy high school students tromping through her house was a perfectly wonderful prospect.
The room slowly came back to life and guests began to clap, although not with any sort of enthusiasm.
Caroline was still clutching the back of his coat. He turned, catching her eye. The glint of unshed tears sparkled on her lashes. His throat constricted at the sight. ”They must not have had any other option,” he whispered in her ear.
”I never liked that woman,” she responded, her tone furious.
”Now, now. She's always been nice enough.”
”Nice doesn't cut it.” She lifted her eyes to his and blinked back tears. ”How could they?”
He shook his head. It was a decision every owner of a truly historic Southern mansion must make, at some time. ”Finley, these old places don't support themselves. You can't let them fall into ruins, either.”
”It was nowhere near ruins. It was fine.” She leaned into his shoulder and took a shuddering breath. ”It's awful. I can't bear it.”
He leaned close, whispering. ”Mr. Codd down on Market St. told me that it cost twenty thousand to paint his house the last time, and they'd painted just four years ago. We're lucky to have mostly brick, but these enormous wooden places take so much more than you can imagine.”
”No, what I can't imagine is turning a home into a restaurant, overrun by kids from New Jersey on Spring break. It's criminal, Brooks. It's just not right.” Her voice was filled with anguish.
Brooks said nothing, feeling the weight of dismay in his chest. His father was tight-lipped about finances, no matter how he offered to help out with any taxes or the costs of the perpetual renovations that occur with a building centuries old. Perhaps Badewood was teetering on the edge of financial ruin as well. He didn't know.
”Why can't everything stay the way it's always been?” She seemed to be talking to herself and not requiring a response.
”Change is inevitable,” he said. Depressingly true and painful to admit, but nothing good lasted forever. He wasn't a fatalist; he was a realist.
Caroline's sunny nature seemed to set her up for disappointment, time after time after time. At moments like this, he wished that he could simply wipe away the pain of ruined expectations. He wrapped an arm around her and tried to focus on the rest of Mrs. Werlin's speech, but his thoughts were on the woman next to him.
Caroline fought to control the ache that was creeping up her throat. She would not cry, she would not cry! It would still be here, in all its splendor, just in a different fas.h.i.+on. More visitors, more people to enjoy the beauty of the place. That's what she told herself, over and over.
But the truth of the matter was that she grieved for the Werlin place. Thirty person hot tub, indeed. It was ruined. It wasn't the stately antebellum home she'd always admired. It was now 'Cedar Point Hotel and Restaurant' and it made her heart feel like it was being squeezed in a steel trap. Mrs. Werlin proudly led the group out the far door of the atrium and Caroline wondered if it would be rude to skip the rest of the tour.
”There you are.” Debbie Mae grabbed her hands and gave her a huge kiss. Her knee length mint green dress and matching heels were off-set by a few strands of perfect pearls. All that was par for the party course, but her cousin swept up her dark red hair into a complicated hairstyle that reminded Caroline of Regency heroines. Tiny, pearl-studded pins dotted the elaborate hairstyle. The effect was breathtaking. Just like Debbie Mae, her outfit was impossible to ignore. ”Can you believe it? Manning told me something was up with that enormous pool. I guess he was right.”
Caroline struggled to speak past the lump in her throat. ”He certainly was.” She'd been excited to see Debbie Mae, but now all she wanted to do was run home and crawl into her own soft bed. Pulling the covers over her head and never coming out had never seemed like such a good idea than at this moment.
”Pretty.” Debbie Mae touched the flowers in Caroline's hair and smiled. ”I love forget-me-nots. They're so hard to find. Did you order these?”
Brooks coughed into his hand and Caroline shot him a look. ”No, I just...” She wasn't sure what to say. 'Found' wasn't quite the right word.
”I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.” Debbie Mae scanned the crowd for her friend.
Caroline tried not to sigh out loud. Of course Debbie Mae was on a mission to keep Brooks from ending up an old bachelor but introducing him to every woman under forty wasn't really going to work. He just wasn't the type to ask for anyone's number. Unless the woman was very, very special. Caroline couldn't help trying to pick out which friend Debbie Mae had in mind.
She motioned to a young woman on the far end of the greenhouse. ”There she is. We met at the party the firm threw last month in Oxford. Her grandfather lives in Th.o.r.n.y Hollow, running the gas station on Sixth Street. Small world, right?”
Caroline raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Brooks wasn't a sn.o.b. In fact, he was probably the most open-minded man she knew. But the woman making her way toward them couldn't have been more than nineteen. A fitted red dress, matching high heels and an updo featuring lots of glossy curls might have been overkill on someone else, but she had a quiet confidence that pulled it all together.
Smiling shyly, a dark-haired girl paused a few feet from Debbie Mae. Large brown eyes framed by thick lashes made Caroline think of a doe. ”This is Lexi Martinez. She's a very talented artist and she designed the new logo for Manning's firm.”
Debbie Mae finished the introductions and went on. ”She's been accepted to Ole Miss so we'll only have her around for the summer, then off she'll go off to change the world.”
”Wonderful to meet you, Lexi. What's your favorite medium?” Brooks asked.
”I've been working with computer graphics for a few years but I really love to sketch. Pen and ink, mostly.” Even her voice was soft and pretty. She glanced at Debbie Mae, as if making sure she'd said the right thing.
Caroline felt a twinge of sympathy. It seemed the confidence only covered the dress. Having an actual conversation was a bit harder. She couldn't imagine standing in this atrium filled with the area's oldest and wealthiest families when your father ran a gas station on Sixth Street.
”You'll be majoring in art, then?” Caroline could remember exactly how it had felt to leave her friends and family for college. That summer stretched endlessly in her memory, full of promise and thrilling fear.
Lexi shook her head, one dark curl on each side sweeping against her sharp cheekbones. ”No, I think I'll major in accounting. It's safer.”
Caroline felt her eyes go wide. How awful to know your pa.s.sion lay in art, but you were going to be an accountant to pay the bills. ”You'll minor in art, at least?”
”I don't think so. I need to get through school as quickly as possible.”
”It's a shame you can't make a living right now from your art. In fact,” Caroline swiveled around searching for Frank in the atrium, ”we were just talking to someone who works in a publis.h.i.+ng company, with those manga comics.”
”Really?” Lexi had lit up like someone had shone a spotlight on her. She peered around, eyes sparkling.
”But he wasn't hiring artists, really.” Brooks voice cut in, his tone measured.
”He made it sound as if his company was growing by leaps and bounds.” Caroline ignored the warning note in his voice. ”I just think it's a shame you're going to major in accounting when you'd rather make a living in art.”
”We all make some sort of compromise, I suppose.” Debbie Mae shrugged lightly.
”Did you?” She wasn't trying to provoke an argument, but she was fairly sure that Debbie Mae had always wanted to be a teacher.
Her cousin's cheeks went pink. ”Not really, I suppose. There was a time I wanted to get a doctorate in education, but by the time I got my master's in teaching, it seemed like overkill. I'm happy teaching fourth graders.”
Caroline said nothing, her point made. She thought she glimpsed Frank's profile and a flash of Lauren's silky black hair but the next moment they were gone. ”Lexi, give me your number and when I talk to Frank, I'll ask him about any jobs in the art department.”
”That would be great,” Lexi said, rummaging in her small black purse for a pen. ”I'd love to talk to him.”
As she scribbled her number on a slip of paper and handed it over, Caroline could feel Brooks at her shoulder, disapproving. In the few minutes that followed, he didn't say a word. The shock of Mrs. Werlin's announcement was wearing off and Caroline was filled with resolve. She wouldn't allow a young girl to throw away her dreams because of sheer pessimism. Someone had told Lexi to put her dreams in a box and bury them deep. Well, Lexi was going to get the chance to be an artist, if Caroline could help it. If everyone compromised their pa.s.sion, then all they'd be left with was thirty person hot tubs and a world of accountants.
”Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so, too. Better be without sense than misapply it as you do.”
-Mr. Knightley
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