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Sara took a sip from her tea before she answered. “You’ll have to ask Dylan, Trent. But take Marty’s insistence today that you get married.”
“You didn’t think the idea of marriage was terrible.”
“And I still don’t, but a real marriage not some sham. You can’t use someone like that.”
“Sara, you wouldn’t have said that a year ago.”
“I might have been more open to the idea,” Sara replied. “But even then I would have thought there wasn’t enough time to pull it off.”
If he took Marty’s advice, he didn’t plan to use anyone. He’d be upfront about the whole thing from the beginning. People might call him a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel. “If they know going in, Sara, no one will get hurt. I haven’t decided yet, but if I take Marty’s advice, it’ll be like a business deal.”
Sara actually rolled her eyes at him, reminding him of his younger sister, Allison. “Falling in love and getting married wouldn’t kill you. Jake was almost as bad as you when it came to women and look how happy he is now.”
The number of women that had passed through his cousin’s life didn’t even come close to his. Although Jake had been known as a playboy, much of his reputation had been exaggerated. The same couldn’t be said for him.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship like Jake’s. I have never met a woman I could picture spending the rest of my life with,” he said. “And since we’re talking about marriage, have you and Christopher set a date yet?” Anything was better than having yet another female relative lecture him about how he lived his life. “Or are you taking a page out of Jake’s book?”
“Do you even need to ask? I don’t think my mom has completely forgiven Jake yet,” Sara answered. “We picked June 23 for the wedding. Mom says it isn’t enough time, but I’m not worried.”
Chapter 2
Everything in the office had a feminine touch to it, yet it remained just neutral enough that if anyone walked in they wouldn’t think he’d taken over someone’s office. Of course that was exactly what he’d done. Now that he’d turned his position over to his brother Gray, he needed to ground himself here in Rhode Island if he hoped to make his way into the Senate.
This new position as Regional Director for the Northeast at Sherbrooke Enterprises would allow him to solidify his presences in the state. At the same time, the position gave him a new challenge and allowed him to be closer to family. As much as he’d loved his previous job, it no longer possessed any challenges and it kept him away from his loved ones. Now he worked just blocks from his father and floors above his Aunt Marilyn, who was the director of The Helping Hands Foundation. Originally started during the Great Depression by his great-grandmother to help provide for homeless families, the organization had grown over the years. When his grandmother stepped down as director in the eighties, his own mother had taken her place and expanded the foundation even more. Following her death, his father’s sister, Marilyn, had taken over as director, and today the foundation provided help to homeless shelters, public schools, youth programs, and senior centers.
Yes, the change was for the better, but something had to be done about this office. Next week he’d have his secretary contact some local interior designers. Trent dismissed all thoughts of his office and grabbed the top folder in his inbox. Several area hotels were set for renovations in the upcoming months and he wanted to review the final proposals before he signed off on anything. After that, he would start on the proposal for the new luxury resort proposed for Ogunquit, Maine.
As he turned to the second page for a Sherbrooke Express Hotel located in Hartford, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said as he continued to read.
“Mr. Jackman from Guardian Construction called. He rescheduled your meeting until next week. I already updated your calendar,” Shirley said. “And Mrs. Belmont’s office called. She wanted to know if you’d be available for lunch this afternoon.”
Trent eyed the stack of folders before him. “Not today. See if tomorrow works.” He enjoyed spending time with his Aunt Marilyn but needed to get caught up. According to the date stamp on some of the proposals, they’d come in several months ago, well before the previous regional director left. “What exactly did Monica do anyway? Some of the proposals I read through last night came in five months ago.”
Shirley, who had worked as assistant to Monica as well as the director before that, glanced at the folders. “She was out a lot after she became pregnant. In the past I helped Monica with these, so if you want I can take some of the proposals and go through them.”
As tempting an offer as it was, Trent shook his head. “You have your own responsibilities. I’ll handle this.”
A look of relief passed across the forty-something-year-old assistant’s face. “Please let me know if you change your mind.”
Once Shirley left, Trent returned his attention to the Hartford project. Once he completed that one, he grabbed the next project in the stack. Like the ones he’d looked through the night before, most of the renovations were standard updates. Still, he didn’t want to make any assumptions about the ones he’d yet to read. So one by one, he made his way through the stack, working through lunch and into the early evening. By doing so, he managed to complete a nice chunk of work.
Trent rubbed his eyes. He’d read so much today his eyes burned. Tomorrow he’d tackle the rest. Right now he needed some food and maybe a coffee or two. Otherwise, he risked falling asleep on the way to his stepmother’s get together later tonight.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Trent stopped at Shirley’s desk located just outside his door. Despite it being well past five o’clock, the woman remained. His first day at the office when he’d left at six and she’d still been working, he’d questioned it. Evidently, Shirley had school-age children and acted as her daughter’s soccer coach and her son’s Cub Scout leader. In order to make it to those things, she left early on Mondays and Wednesdays, but stayed late on Tuesdays and Thursdays to make up the hours. Since the schedule had been in place for a few years and seemed to work, he saw no reason to change it.
Shirley glanced over at him and smiled. “Have a n
ice evening, Mr. Sherbrooke.”
The heat and humidity broke over him like a wave when he stepped outside. Inside his cool air-conditioned office, he’d forgotten about the heat wave that gripped much of Southern New England. Thankfully, Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Cafe was only a few streets over.
By the time he reached the bakery door, sweat dripped down his back making his undershirt stick to his skin. The smells drifting out of the bakery made the unpleasant situation well worth it. Just as he was about to enter, a woman with two children in a stroller appeared. Stepping to the side, he held open the door for her and then followed inside. As he waited for his turn, his eyes swept over the store. Several college-aged customers sat at the various tables. Some shared the extra large desserts while others studied and drank coffee as they ate freshly made panini.
“Did Uncle put something different in these?”
The female voice grabbed his attention and had him looking back at the table closest to him. The woman who sat there had her back toward him so he couldn’t see her face, but the voice and hair he recognized. Or at least he thought he did. Was that the same woman he’d bumped into earlier that week? She’d mentioned she worked in the area, and while he’d kept an eye out for her over the past week, he’d never seen her again.
“He added some coconut water to the batter. How is it?” a woman dressed in an Ambrosia T-shirt answered from the next table as she washed it down.
