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Sara shook her head. “I disagree. It has to be a real relationship and marriage. It’s too late for a marriage of convenience. Trent should’ve done that a year or two ago. If he marries someone like Vanessa Mitchell, the voters will see through the ruse,” she said referring to a prominent socialite they all knew.
“You give the voters too much credit, Sara. All they will see is a beautiful married couple.”
“And you underestimate them.” Sara’s tone turned cold. “Sure, he’d fool some voters, but not all. He needs a real marriage, even if it means he pushes back his timetable for entering politics.”
Wonderful. The two people in the room with the most political experience had polar opposite opinions. “What are your thoughts, Dad?” Thus far, his father had remained unusually quiet on the matter.
“I’ve always been straightforward with you regarding your relationships, and I agree your reputation might hurt your chances. If you had someone in your life like Charlie, I believe it would help win over voters. As for the rest, that’s up to you. Whichever path you take, be prepared for the unexpected.”
He respected his father and he valued his opinions, especially on the matter of politics. Mark Sherbrooke had spent his life around powerful politicians. That was the main reason he’d held this meeting here today rather than in his own office. If he believed Marty was correct, he’d take it into consideration.
A knock at the office door prevented Trent from responding. As lunch was set out on the conference table, his mind weighed the pros and cons of what had been discussed so far. Finding and falling in love with someone was unlikely, even if he wanted to follow Sara’s suggestions. After not finding love for so long, he figured he didn’t even know how to go about it, which left Marty’s plan. Assuming he stayed honest and up front with the woman, he had no problem carrying out a charade. They could set it up like a business contract. “Who do you have in mind, Marty?”
***
Addison tossed the ruined paperwork onto her desk. Once she reprinted the pages she’d have to transfer her notes onto the fresh copies. Thankfully, she could still read them. While the printer worked at spitting out clean copies, she grabbed the white blouse she kept in her office closet. She’d learned at her first professional job the importance of keeping a clean set of clothes in the office. It’d been only her second day at Ducat and Wakefield Designers. She’d been eating her lunch at Quincy Market when a young child had tripped and spilled an entire container of chocolate milk on her lap. She’d had to buy an entire new outfit before returning to work that day. Ever since then, she’d kept an extra outfit at work.
After slipping on the clean top, she stuffed the coffee-stained shirt in a bag with a tiny shake of her head. Dry-cleaned. Yeah, right. She didn’t own anything that required dry cleaning. Heck, that particular top didn’t even require an iron, making it one of her favorites. In fact, she owned three just like it only in different colors because she could literally pull it from the clothes dryer and slip it on. Someone like Trent Sherbrooke most likely had all his clothing dry-cleaned or at least washed and ironed for him. The brief thought of the man caused an image to form in her head. Over the years she’d seen plenty of photographs of the handsome billionaire. Most of the time some equally beautiful woman hung off his arm. The pictures hadn’t done him justice. She’d never seen anyone with eyes that shade of blue, and his face, well, she didn’t even know where to begin. Looking at him had been like looking at perfection. As if some great master sculptor had carved him, making sure each feature complimented the others. Her fingers itched at the thought of sketching a picture of him.
Addie dropped into her seat and reached for what was left of her coffee. Time to get back to work. She needed to finish this proposal before her meeting with the homeowners tomorrow. Although the project wouldn’t be as large as some of the ones she’d worked on while at Ducat and Wakefield, it’d bring in money and keep her business going. Everyone had to start somewhere. With any luck, in another year or so she’d have enough of a reputation to attract big projects like those she’d worked on in Boston, and then she could hire more employees. Right now the whole company consisted of herself and her part-time assistant, Tara. Of course, if she moved her office out of the city to an area with lower rent it would help, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She loved wor
king in the city. It stimulated her, got her creative side flowing. On more than one occasion she’d be at home struggling on a project and the minute she walked into her office the ideas started to flow. Moving her office out of downtown Providence was an absolute last resort.
She read over the notes she already jotted down, then pulled up the digital photos she’d taken at the Lancaster’s home.
“The curtains you ordered for the Wagners won’t be ready until next week,” Tara said, stepping into her office. A college student at Rhode Island School of Design, Tara worked at the office four days a week. “But the painters can start on Friday if that works for the Vonns.”
Addie ran the information through her head. The late delivery would set the project back a bit, but she didn’t think the Wagners would mind much. So far the couple had been remarkably easy to work with. “Okay. Can you call the Vonns and see if the painter can start then, and I’ll contact the Wagners.” Right now she had two ongoing projects and if the Lancasters liked her proposal tomorrow that would make three solid deals.
“Will do. Is there anything you need before I leave?”
Addie thought about the other office-related tasks that needed to be done that week, but she remained silent. If she asked Tara to stay and help, she would, but Addie couldn’t afford the extra pay. And even though Tara would say it wasn’t necessary, Addie wouldn’t feel right not paying the younger woman.
“No. I’m all set with everything else. Thanks.”
Once Tara returned to her own desk, Addie called the Wagners to break the bad news. As she expected they were fine with the minor delay, which was a relief. Over the years she’d seen some clients become irate when projects didn’t go as planned. Sometimes they demanded discounts because of delays. She’d even seen some break contracts. While Ducat and Wakefield could survive with such financial losses, she couldn’t, at least not at this point.
With the phone call out of the way, she lost herself in the proposal for the Lancaster home. Before she left today, she wanted it done.
***
“How long are you around for?” Trent and Sara had left his father’s office and returned to his downtown apartment.
“About a week. The governor is on vacation with his family in Hawaii. Christopher is arriving tomorrow and since everyone is at Cliff House, we thought we’d visit for a few days then head over to Martha’s Vineyard. Jake and Charlie plan to stay until Sunday, and then they are heading to North Salem to see her family. I don’t know how long Dylan and Callie plan to stay.”
Trent made a mental note of everyone’s plans. At some point between today and the weekend, he’d make an effort to get to Newport. “I appreciate your input today,” he said. “If you weren’t working for the governor, I’d ask you to run my campaign.”
Sara played with the engagement ring on her finger, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So you’re definitely going to run?”
Trent leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
Across from him, she shook her head. “If it’s what you want, I say go for it. Just think hard before you sign on with Marty.”
The only time he heard anything negative about Marty Phillips it came from the candidates that ran against whoever hired him. “He was your father’s campaign advisor, and he’s got a great reputation. I don’t see a problem.”
“He knows what he is doing and he gets results,” Sara said. “Sometimes his methods are questionable. If you want more details, ask Dylan.”
Now she really had him curious. “Come on, Sara. Out with it.” He doubted he’d get anything else from Sara. She’d always been good at keeping a secret, even as a child.
