Champagne Showers (42 page)

With my parent’s shoulders to cry on and several days of them pampering and waiting on me hand and foot, I feel stable enough to return to Portland and to my condo. I leave early in the morning and arrive before lunchtime. Once inside my condo, I look around nervously to assure myself that nothing has been disturbed. Once I feel comfortable enough, I proceed to sit down to my laptop and catch up on emails. I will need to head to the mobile store at some point today to replace my damned phone. It feels weird not having a phone. I had to use my mom’s phone to contact Simone and let her know my whereabouts. I used their computer to make sure there weren’t any urgent business matters to tend to. Other than that, I had shut myself off from the world. From Harrison.

I open my personal email and notice there are dozens of emails from Harrison. I just can’t bring myself to open them presently, so I decide to just leave them for the moment. Maybe later I will look at them. Or maybe later I will just delete them.

I do notice one from Simone that intrigues me. The subject says: Brace yourself. So I do. I open the email and scan over it. It is a confirmation of what I have already had confirmed by Harrison himself a week ago. Attached to the email is a copy of the official press release. I don’t read the whole thing, but it just states that Harrison is indeed engaged to the Wine Witch and though the date has not yet been set, it is expected to happen by the New Year.  The Towers and Devereauxs are thrilled to bring the two families together. I feel a bitterness forming in the back of my throat. Why couldn’t Harrison have been honest with me?  It sickens me further to think that I have completely fallen for him. I can’t help but to wonder what the hell that charade was at the winery. If he was planning this the entire time, why would he flaunt me in front of her and the entire world at the gala? There is so much that doesn’t make sense, but at the end of it, he is due to marry her by the end of the year. Well, he isn’t one for long time frames, that’s for sure. 

I feel the tears threatening and I take a deep breath and respond to Clarke to let her know that I don’t want her to forward anything else. It hurts too much and it’s insensitive. I also let her know that I will message her later in the day when I have a new phone number. I log out of my personal email and start to log in to my business email, when, despite my best efforts to stifle it, I start weeping uncontrollably, shuddering at the thought that Harrison has gone from my life. I’m not sure what I have to live for. My business has lost its excitement for me, I have no one but my parents, and Simone, and none of them are here in town to prop me up. I feel so alone and empty. How could I have allowed myself to let my guard down? I chastise myself. If there was this long-standing situation between Harrison and Wine Witch’s families, then I never stood a chance. I stop sobbing, wipe my eyes and blow my nose before I moved my attention back to the task of checking my overflowing business inbox.

I scroll down and yet another email catches my eye. It’s from Harrison’s personal assistant, Hilary. The subject: Appointment Confirmation. I open it. I scan the email and gasp. Oh no! They’re still expecting me to execute the decorating for the new space that HQ is moving into in just a few days. No way! I will not do this job. The pit in my stomach is growing to the size of a watermelon! I send Hilary a message explaining that it would be best if they find a more suitable designer for the job. I hit send, get up from my chair and walk over to the fridge. I pull out a bottle of wine and don’t even stop to notice what kind. I grab a water glass off the counter, pour the contents into the sink and replace it with a generous helping of the wine. I take a large swig of it, wishing it was something stiffer. After a couple more sips, I feel a little calmer. I lay down on my sofa and before I know it, I have fallen into a deep but disturbed sleep. I dream that I am running on the beach and someone is following me, but every time I look back, all I can see is an outlined shape. The shape has no face or features to use to make out who is pursuing me. Just as a dark hand reaches out to grab me, I wake with a start. I wipe the drool off my chin and sit up. I notice an envelope dancing across my screen. Yeah, yeah, I’ve got mail. I open my computer and find a few recent emails from my new clients in Lake Oswego, it appears they are thrilled with my suggestions and are ready to move forward. Well, that’s a piece of good news, a distraction. I look at the next email down and it is a response from Hilary. I suck in my breath and open the email.

From: Hilary Durand

To: Danielle Austen

Sent: Mon, Sept.26, 2011 1:23 PM

Subject: Appointment Confirmation

Ms. Austen,

Thank you for your prompt response. I shared your email with Mr. Towers and he respectfully declines your resignation from this project. He feels that you are the best designer for this job. He also indicated that since our move is scheduled for next week it would be nearly impossible to find a suitable replacement. He is expecting you Wednesday at 10:00 AM at the Rogue Towers Suite to cover final preparations.

On a personal note Danielle, I beg of you that you complete the project. My sanity is at stake.

Talk soon, I hope.

Hilary

Harrison Tower’s Personal Assistant

Towers Holdings, Inc.

Damn it! What does she mean her sanity is at stake? Why should I care about her sanity anyway? My own sanity is seriously in question at the moment and I’m supposed to care about hers?

I sit there staring at the computer screen for what seems like an hour. I don’t want to meet Harrison at the damned building so we can discuss his fiancé’s fucking office. They can do it themselves. He’s screwed me over so why should I help him out?

I reply,

From: Danielle Austen

To:  Hilary Durand

Sent: Mon, Sept.26, 2011 2:45 PM

Subject: Appointment Confirmation

Dear Hilary,

I can’t do it under the circumstances and maybe Mr. Towers should have thought of that before his trip to Montreal.

Good luck,

Danielle

Then I hit send, smiling to myself.

There, I feel a little better. My mind wanders. Maybe with my new clients I can afford a vacation. I seriously need to get away and leave everything behind me for a week. Maybe somewhere tropical where I can hook up with someone tall, dark and mysterious. Maybe someone who doesn’t even speak English so I don’t have to think. Who am I kidding, that will never happen. It’s not like I would seriously have a vacation tryst. Now back to reality, I need a new phone. I head off to phone store.

“Here is your new phone, Miss Austen and the new number is printed right here on the paperwork. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He hands me a bag with my new smart phone along with the contract.

I shake my head and mumble thanks to the clerk. Out of my own stupidity and anger, my phone now lies on the sandy ocean bottom with my SIM card that contains all of my contacts. Now the shitty part is recreating all of my contacts. I’ll take the suggestion of the flirty sales clerk, Colin, and download my latest bill and try to re-create my contacts. I have saved business cards and emails that I can use too. No, it won’t be too hard to do, just time consuming. However, I will have plenty of time on my hands now that I’m not seeing Harrison.

After I return from the phone store, I lock myself in my condo after conducting a quick sweep to make sure all is clear. I set the bag down on my ottoman in my living room and refill my glass of wine.

I grab my new phone out of my bag and set to programming numbers in. I start with my stack of business cards then I go into my email contacts and add them. I set the phone down on the counter in the kitchen to refill my glass again. Cheers to Harrison Towers, I say to myself, congratulations on your nuptials, I’m now going to drink myself into oblivion. I hear a buzzing and look incredulously at my phone. Who the hell could be calling my phone, I haven’t sent out the blast yet to give everyone my new number. I pick up the phone… Fucking Unknown Caller.

I hit answer.

“What the FUCK do you want? I am sick of you… GO AWAY!”

I wait.

Nothing, I hear nothing but faint breathing.

Then a snicker and the call drops.

I feel my insides turn to ice. I have heard this same thing before. Maybe it’s time to email Detective Burke again.

I hop onto my email and send a message to Detective Burke outlining the extensive amount of calls I have received over the last five weeks, explaining that I have call records to show as much. I give him my new phone number and ask him to contact me directly.

I then call Simone, but she doesn’t answer so I leave her a message.

I have no idea what to do next. I drink more wine and wander aimlessly around the condo doing things like laundry and cleaning. I have downed almost an entire bottle of wine by 4:00 PM when I get a knock at the door. Shit! I’m tipsy and someone is at my door. Must be someone I know, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten past Frank. I look through the peephole and just as I’m about the open the bolts, Frank belts out, “Hey Danielle, Miss Austen, you there? Got a delivery.”

As he says this, I’m working on unbolting all of the locks.

He chuckles and looks at the locks, “Fort Knox, I see. Well a lady by herself in the city can’t be too careful. Listen, I have a delivery here for you.”

I don’t see anything in Frank’s hands so I’m wondering where my delivery is. I’m starting to grow impatient, when Frank steps aside and who should step in front of the door but Harrison. I just about fall over. I scowl at them both and hiss at Harrison, “That was a dirty trick using Frank to get to me.” Frank looks at me sheepishly and then says, “Sorry, Miss Austen, he is my boss.” He shrugs and then disappears down the hallway.

Harrison turns to me and I notice that he looks like shit. I actually gasp aloud. I know I must look a fright with a tearstained face, swollen eyes and a red nose from blowing it so much. But Harrison looks like he hasn’t slept in days, there are dark circles under his eyes and speaking of his eyes, they are usually dancing and sparkling pale blue pools, but today they are cloudy and rimmed red. He has more than a five o’clock shadow and his clothes look slept in. Despite my sorrow and my rage, my loins betray me by stirring at the mere sight of him. I am momentarily taken off guard by his disheveled appearance, but I regain my composure and I realize that I need to shut him out. I can’t let him muscle his way in here. I start to close the door, but he moves his foot at lightning speed into the doorway.

“Please, Danielle, can’t you just hear me out?” I start shaking my head rapidly, but I don’t move to continue shutting the door. Part of me wants to get my questions answered despite his ominous warning about the truth being dangerous. I have so many things I need to know just so I can move forward with my life.

I finally let him pass.

I lock one deadbolt but leave the rest unlocked so I can usher him out with ease in a few minutes.

He is looking at me expectantly.

“Look, Mr. Towers, you have exactly five minutes and then you WILL need to leave.” I look at the clock on the wall then back at Harrison. “Your time starts now.” I show him to the living room and he sits down next to the empty tissue box.