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“Aaaand thank you very much.” Heat crept up Celine’s neck as she looked over her shoulder. “Where the hell are your parents, anyway?” she muttered under her breath.
A young woman holding a naked doll hurried up the ramp. The woman’s hair was slipping from a French braid and red sauce stained her white shirt. She zipped past Celine and trampled another one of Celine’s pages. “Chloe!”
Celine groaned. Question answered.
Kids.
A sheltered only child—of parents who were each only children—Celine had grown up with a series of private tutors and nannies. Celine hadn’t often been around kids her age, or kids of any age for that matter. She wouldn’t know what to do with one of the little monsters if it landed in her lap.
God, help me.
Celine snatched up the soiled papers Monty had scanned and emailed to her, but she hadn’t had a chance to read yet. After she had gathered everything into her arms, she shoved the lot into a folder and stuffed it back into her Louis Vuitton tote with her laptop. She hitched it up on her shoulder, her purse on the other, and headed up the gangway.
Bright sunshine poured in through the massive windows. She’d never been to Arizona, but she’d heard the usual about Phoenix—you could fry an egg on the sidewalk or bake brownies on a dashboard. And she’d heard the constant refrain, “But it’s a dry heat.”
Celine didn’t bother peering out the windows for more than a cursory glance. Airports weren’t generally known for allowing passengers a view of much more than tarmac and the usual building clutter. Airports were such messy things.
She’d been in countless locations around the globe since she was old enough to travel without a nanny. She’d just about seen it all.
Her parents had never wanted to visit Arizona. Too hot, they’d said. If Celine moved to this state, she likely wouldn’t see her parents unless she dropped in on them in their luxury Manhattan condo.
Not seeing her parents. Now there was a benefit to moving to a place like this.
She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for parents who actually cared. Her heart ached and she had to push the thoughts and feelings aside.
Celine didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, too focused on making her way to baggage claim. Maybe she’d lived in Manhattan for too long. Like every other New Yorker, she kept her eyes focused ahead and didn’t meet a stranger’s gaze.
Like the saying went, Things to do, places to go, people to see.
A breeze came in from the sliding glass doors as she passed them on the lower level, the wind shifting her long silk skirt around her legs. Her outfit was of her design. She wore low heels for comfort, but frequently wore higher heels. She was five-ten, but with three-inch heels she reached six-one, intimidating for most men below that height. But she wasn’t going to stop wearing high heels just to make a man feel good about himself.
When she’d reached baggage claim, she tapped her foot as she waited for her luggage. The way her day had gone, her bags might have ended up in Pittsburgh.
Stay strong. Have hope.
Someday. Someday they’ll be here.
She’d always figured if a person paid for first class then her luggage should be off the plane first. Never seemed to work out that way.
Of course, her two hard shell suitcases came up the conveyor belt last, but at least they’d made it to Phoenix with her. She secured her luggage and headed out to catch a cab.
The airport wasn’t exceptionally busy, and within fifteen minutes she was on her way to the AAA Five Diamond Scottsdale Princess Resort in North Scottsdale. One of Celine’s select few friends, Meredith, had told her she had to go to the Princess when she came to Scottsdale. Meredith knew fine resort living and knew it well.
The sunshine and the warmth didn’t surprise Celine—she’d never been to Arizona, but she’d seen plenty of photographs. What did surprise her was just how much she liked the view. She’d thought the Phoenix desert would be far too barren for her tastes. But what she saw through the cab’s windows, between the airport and the Princess, called to her in a way that mystified her.
Clear blue skies and an endless stretch of land that went on for miles, gave her an aching desire to explore this place, so different from any location she’d been before.
Breathing room. She had none of that in New York City. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to live in a place with so much space.
And it was a dry heat. No humidity to cause her hair to go curly or melt her insanely expensive designer, supposedly un-meltable, makeup.
Bonus points for Arizona.
Celine tapped her fingers on her purse. She needed to focus on the commercial shoot and the print ads. She’d been doing her best to not think about what had become a complete headache. She had to go to a ranch tomorrow, for however long it took to get the commercial done. A ranch somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
And horses. I’ll be near horses.
Her throat ached and she shoved the thought aside.
