Last Chance Motel 1 (Last Chance Romance Series)
Eva Hanover hit forty years of age . . . and she had it all . . . a brilliant career, a gorgeous brownstone in Brooklyn, and a sexy husband. Or, at least, she thought.
In a wink of an eye, Eva’s husband left her. She lost the brownstone and threw away her career in a fit of pique. With only the clothes on her back, she fled New York for the sunnier climate of Key Largo.
As Eva put it, her marriage went south and so did she. Stuck in Key Largo, it is sink or swim for the devastated Eva.
Starting over at forty is hard for anyone, but Eva wondered if she could ever be happy again. Step by step she finds her way back and eventually to love.
A Romance Novel
Abigail Keam
Worker Bee Press
Last Chance Motel
Copyright © 2014 Abigail Keam
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author.
Key Largo is a real place. So is Miami and New York. And you might have visited Camp Pennekamp or Brooklyn. Other than that, any resemblance to any person, place or thing is coincidence.
This story is not based on you although you might have suffered the same heartbreak. I hope you found happiness like our heroine in the story.
ISBN 978 0 9893745 9 0
Published in the USA
Worker Bee Press
P.O. Box 485
Nicholasville, KY 40340
Songs That Inspire Last Chance Series
Bonus Chapters from Gasping For Air
Bonus Chapter from Death By A HoneyBee
Thanks to my editor, Patti DeYoung.
Special thanks to Betsy Meredith and Phil Criswell.
Artwork by Cricket Press
Book jacket by Peter Keam
Death By A HoneyBee I
Death By Drowning II
Death By Bridle III
Death By Bourbon IV
Death By Lotto V
Death By Chocolate VI
Death By Haunting VII
Death By Derby VIII
The Princess Maura Fantasy Series
Wall Of Doom I
Wall Of Peril II
Wall Of Glory III
Wall Of Conquest IV
Romance
Last Chance Motel I
Gasping For Air II
E
va gazed into the floor-length mirror and was pleased with her reflection. The black negligee she had recently purchased encased her trim body like a glove. Her auburn hair glimmered with highlights and her skin looked like butter cream. Even though she was forty, Eva looked younger and worked at it.
Hoping that her sexy look might heat up her husband, who seemed a little frost-bitten lately, she put on the finishing touch. Passion Fire Red lipstick!
Nine years ago she had met Dennis while helping his company remodel an old warehouse on the west side of Manhattan. Her boss had put Eva in charge of the cosmetic rehab of the warehouse while others dealt with structural issues. That was okay with Eva. Buying furniture and picking out paint colors was fun and she was given a huge budget with which to play.
It was at a briefing that Eva was introduced to Dennis, a junior executive at that time. He was to be the company’s liaison with her.
There was instant chemistry and before long they were embroiled in a passionate affair, which spilled over into marriage two months after the project was completed.
Nine years. Eva shook her head in disbelief. Where had the time gone? Six of those years had been fantastic, but things started slipping three years ago.
It had begun when Eva and Dennis purchased an abandoned brownstone in Brooklyn near the Verrazano Bridge. They had been giddy when they first received the keys from the bank and began restoring the four-story brownstone, but things started taking a downward turn six months into the project.
To save money, Eva and Dennis decided to complete many of the cosmetic projects themselves. After working long hours at their firms, they would hurry home to the brownstone and work late into the night trying to tile the bathrooms or lay down bamboo floors or paint twelve foot ceilings. What started as fun became a strain both physically and mentally.
They began snapping at each other and it didn’t take long to realize that they both had different visions for the brownstone, which created even more tension.
Eva wanted to restore the brownstone to its authentic former glory while Dennis wanted to gut and modernize it completely.
Dennis won.
When the brownstone was completed, Eva had to admit it was stunning, complete with all modern amenities. But to Eva, the brownstone was cold and void of any personality, but it was what Dennis liked. She disliked the cold paint colors he had chosen and the minimalist look of each room.
Eva realized that compromise was the cornerstone of marriage and wanted Dennis to be happy. That was very important to her. She could live with the renovation.
Now that the brownstone was finished, Eva wanted to heat up her faltering relationship with her husband and get it back on track.
Eva masked her irritation when Dennis finally got home . . . late as usual during the past seven months. Hearing the elevator rise to the master bedroom floor, Eva waited in the alcove trying to look sexy in her negligee.
The elevator reached the top and the door swung open. Dennis was going through the mail and barely looked up.
“Hello there, big boy,” teased Eva.
Dennis looked up and froze when he saw Eva.
Eva noticed his hesitation and it threw her off her game. She suddenly felt foolish.
“What’s up with you?” asked Dennis.
Eva, determined that the night be a success, smiled. “I thought we would celebrate your new promotion and the completion of the house. I have made a very nice dinner for us and then for dessert . . .”
“We celebrated last Saturday with our friends,” retorted Dennis. He looked frustrated and a bit embarrassed.
“Yes, but I thought we could have a private celebration, just you and me,” rejoined Eva.
Uh oh. This was not going as planned.
“Honey, I’m tired. I just want to eat and go to bed.”
“Long day at the office?”
Dennis looked at the letters in his hand. His face was flushed. “Something like that.”
“I have something that will make you feel better,” chirped Eva. She was going to hit this out of the ballpark. Eva handed him two airline tickets.
“What’s this?” Dennis asked, staring blankly at the tickets.
“I purchased two tickets to Miami for this weekend. The two of us on a getaway. No work. No house to think about. Just warm breezes and blue water. We can rent a boat and . . .”
“NO!”
“No?” echoed Eva. Her heart began to sink. Something was very wrong.
“This has got to end,” Dennis said, cutting in, letting the mail fall to the floor. He looked at Eva as though he was looking through her. “I’m sorry I have let this go on for so long, but things have got to change.”
Alarmed, Eva tried to hug Dennis but he pushed her away. Eva gasped. “What is it, Dennis? What’s wrong? Are you ill?” She felt a numbing fear move up her spine.
“I’m sorry, Eva, but I’m not going anywhere with you. This is very hard to say but I . . . I want a divorce.”
Eva felt like a bullet had passed through her. “What? For heaven’s sake, why? We have everything. We worked so hard on this house. Why Dennis? Why?”
“I don’t love you anymore. That’s why.”
“M
r. Reardon wants the brownstone,” demanded Dennis’ lawyer.
Eva and her attorney sat across the conference table. “Where is Dennis?” Eva asked. Turning to her lawyer, she questioned, “Shouldn’t Dennis be here?”
“Mr. Reardon has given me instructions to act on his behalf and feels his presence is not necessary under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances? Not seeing me?” Eva asked.
“Eva,” cautioned her lawyer. “Let me handle this.”
“What circumstances are you referring to?” Eva asked again.
“I believe that Mr. Reardon has expressed concern about you being abusive lately.”
Eva snorted in derision.
“Many women become upset when asked for a divorce and given no reason. Mrs. Reardon has been a faithful and constant companion to Mr. Reardon. I think that under the circumstances most women would raise their voices and maybe even throw some objects. It’s human nature.”
“Mr. Reardon feared for his life.”
“Oh, please,” scoffed Eva. “Give me a break.”
“If Mr. Reardon feared for his safety he should have called the police and filed a complaint. Since there is no complaint, let’s move on, shall we. Alleging that Mrs. Reardon is a threat without proof is counter-productive to your client’s requests.”
