1)

I was going to throw up.

I stood before Pastor O'Ryan, who held my hand as he shared his words of condolence. I stare at his rounded face, with cheeks that were always rosy and kind blue eyes that held wisdom and understanding. I see his thin lips moving rapidly as he quotes a passage from the bible. Which one? I cannot say. All I hear is a mind-numbing buzz between my ears and the rumble of my stomach, threatening the release its contents onto the dark bamboo floor beneath my feet and most assuredly all over the front of his perfectly tailored suit

I squeeze his hand, shaking my head "No", as he asks if I'm okay. Then, I hurry off.

I ignore the sympathetic glances I receive from several of my guests and the open look of distain from my In-Laws, taking the stairs quickly up to the master suite. Inside, I shut the door with a bang and race into the bathroom, just in time to catch the toilet as I finally blow. Stale coffee and a half eat sandwich spew into the bowl. My throat burns, hot and raw; the taste of regurgitated food coats my tongue. I cough, stumbling over to the vanity and rigorously begin to rinse my mouth. Once I am done, I slide down onto the cool marble floor and have myself a good cry.

My private moment is but brief as I hear the distinct click of heels moving toward me. I look up and find myself eyeing a pair of expensive black shoes. From where I sat, I could smell the newest of fresh Italian leather.

My eyes travel upward until they come to rest on my sister-in-law's. Her blue-gray eyes, shoot daggers into me. "Pull yourself together", she hisses, hands on her slender hips. "We have guests here; important ones with strong ties to Charles and our company".

Our company?

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at her statement. If memory served me correctly, Charles's parents left the company to him, solely. The only reason Sarah maintained the lifestyle of a wealthy woman was due to the hefty allowance checks Charles wrote out to his sisters once a month.

"I expect to see you downstairs in ten minutes, freshened up and ready to be the sophisticated wife Charles believed you were capable of being, instead of the embarrassment you actually are", she orders.

She turns on her pencil thin heels and marches out of the bathroom. I rise, gritting my teeth to prevent myself from running after her and giving the hateful bitch a good shove down the staircase, hard enough to snap her skinny neck. I find the idea more than appealing, yet futile because, just like in the Wizard of Oz...drop a house on one bad witch and there was still another to deal with.....Willa.

Which of the two sisters could I peg as the worst, I honestly could not say. Though they were not twins, they mirrored each other in every way, red hair, blue-gray eyes and equally vile personalities. Neither ever attempted to hide their mutual loathing of me. Or, their contempt of Charles for being rewarded the keys to the family empire and all the power that came with it.

I shake my head. I bet....no, I know they are happy he is gone. They are not alone. The dirt over Charles's grave isn't even an hour old and I can see the sharks already beginning to circle. And, they were poised to strike. Worst yet, I most certainly lie in their crosshairs and I have no clue what to do about it.

I "pull" myself together as ordered and return to the Great room, still filled with Charles's family, friends and business associates. The room, grows quiet, all eyes on me.  As I stand looking out into the crowd, I've never felt so alone. Then, a pair of arms encircle my waist, hugging me tightly and I remember, I'm not alone after all.

I hold my son close. My heart breaks for him. I can tell, he wants to have his own good cry but, like me, he was ordered by his aunts to conduct himself with dignity and poise.

I stroke his head as I feel the rise and fall of his chest again me. Each time he exhales, he shakes a little, fighting to muster up the strength to keep in his tears. Each time he does, I want to march across the room and rip out the strains of Sarah and Willa's matching red hair.

Honestly, what kind of person forbids a child to publicly mourn the loss of his father?

I take a deep breath of my own. I have to do this, I tell myself. I have to make it through this day for both of us.

It is late into the evening when the last few people remaining, usher themselves out.  As I close the door behind them, I am a little more than relieved they are finally gone.

I drag myself upstairs. I kick off my shoes, not caring where they land and quickly peel off my black dress, immediately tossing it down the laundry chute. Exposed, my skin feels clammy, so I hurry into the bathroom to take a shower.

Afterwards, I go down the hall to check on Chase. I find him fast asleep in his bed. I walk over, lean down to kiss his forehead and stop abruptly when I notice the faint stains of dried tears on his taupe colored cheek.

I sit on the edge of his bed and gently stroke my hand over his dark brown hair. My poor baby, cried himself to sleep. I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have said to hell with everyone else and come to be at his side more than I had been throughout this terrible day.

I go back to my large empty bedroom and lie down. Sleep eludes me, but not for the reasons one might expect. Yes, I miss Charles. You grow accustomed to someone being in your life then suddenly, they're not. Yet, that inner voice whispers to you, thoughts and feelings you do not intentionally want to visit.

I roll over onto my back, staring up into the darkness. Charles is gone, dead. And, one word echoes in my head, one I dare not speak out loud....freedom. And, I wonder, am I a horrible person for thinking it.

******

Three days later.....Monday

I checked my watch as I exited the subway and made my way up 34th street. As always, the sidewalks were bustling with hordes New Yorkers rushing to get to work. Thirteen years of living in this city had taught me how to keep pace, so I fell right into step with the flow of moving bodies.

The office of Mason Wentworth was located only a few blocks from Penn Station, allowing me to reach my destination at a respectfully reasonable time.

On the elevator ride to the 11th floor, I give myself a pep talk, reminding myself to stay calm no matter what happened. Today, was the reading of Charles's will and I had no doubt, Willa and Sarah would come out with claws sharpened and ready.

This morning, as I watched Chase's school bus drive away, I thought not to come to the reading. My brain screamed for me to walk back into the Estate I had shared with Charles, pack all of Chase's and my belongings and leave. Again, the word FREEDOM echoed in my head. Again, I dared not speak it.

I fought with myself, hard. But then, I concluded, I could not. This was my life. There was no escaping the fate my father and I sealed for me all those years ago. I was stuck here, in the land of the rich and the wicked. And, by design, so was my son.

As the elevator doors open, I take a deep breath. No sooner than I exit I see my sisters-in-law, chatting away with the tall, well-dressed man in a gray suit. Mason Wentworth's pale weathered face held signs of annoyance at the pair of them. He spots me and his lips turn upward into a warm and genuine smile that lights up his small blue eyes.

Sarah and Willa stop talking and follow the focus of his attention. They stare at me with matching amber eyes and thinned mouths painted in dark red lipstick. I pause, staring back at them. Willa, the eldest sister, rolls her eyes into the air.

"Finally", she says dramatically, as if I am an hour late instead of 20 minutes early.

I start toward them again, brushing past the pair and holding out my hand to Mason. He takes it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Mason Wentworth was more than just Charles's lawyer; I learned over the years, that he was also Charles's only trusted friend. He was also, one of the few people to accept me in Charles's life.

"How are you holding up?" he asks me.

"Can we get on with it?" Sarah chimes in before I can answer Mason.

Mason leads the three of us down the hall to a small conference room with double wooden doors. He ushers us inside to a small oval-shaped table. At the end of the table sat a computer monitor. Once we are all seated he opens the folder I never noticed tucked under his arm.

"We are gathered here this morning for the reading of the last will and testament of Charles Richard Friel".

"We know why we are here", Willa says, rudely. "Drop the formalities and just tell us what it says".

Mason fixes her with a gaze that makes her clamp her mouth shut. He continues with the "formalities" despite the irritation he and I both feel emanating from Sarah and Willa. Once he reads Charles's opening statement about being of sound mind and body, he removes a DVD from the folder and inserts it into the monitor, which I now realize is one of those all-in-one computers with the hard drive built right into the monitor.

Mason lays out one of those wireless rubber keyboards and next thing I see is Charles's face appear. His salt and pepper hair is neatly combed back, away from his high forehead. His blue eyes, direct and piercing, are filled with purpose. 

He looks like I remembered him, before the car accident; before, I received that awful call and found myself in a hospital room with doctors identifying his cold, lifeless body.

I shudder, snapping myself out of the memory, just in time to hear, Charles's words "to my sisters..."

Both sisters perk up. I can see triumph dancing in their eyes until Charles mouths the next words. "I leave exactly what they already have....the continuance of stipends to be issued to them monthly so they may maintain a life of comfort without responsibility". Their faces fall into looks of complete shock.

Charles laughs, as if he can actually see the stupefied looks they bare. "What? You did not actually believe I'd turn the company over to the two of you, did you? So, you could run our father's legacy into the ground? Never. I'd sooner burn all of it to ash. No, my dear sisters, the company, I leave in safer hands". He laughs again, and I shift uncomfortably when they turn their attention to me. "Mason's", Charles finishes.

Now, Sarah and Willa are not the only ones in shock, so am I. Not that I wanted or knew what to do with a multi-billion dollar company. I just did not see this coming. While I process this turn of events, the attention diverts from me to Mason.

So far, he has said nothing.

"Mason will assume full control of the company immediately after my death, unless he kicks the bucket before me", Charles says with a chuckle. "He will appoint a Board of Directors, made up of a list I issued to him some years ago. The Board will run the company with Mason at the helm, until he himself leaves this earth or determines it is time for him to step down. At which time, the pre-determine successor already hand-picked by Mason and myself, will take control".

"You bastard", Sarah says between her teeth. "We will never let you have what's ours".

"Willa, Sarah, this is my will. And, like our father's before mine it is ironclad and cannot be contested. Try, if you like, but let me assure you that you will only waste precious time in doing so. Enjoy the lives you have and let those dreams of ownership go".

The screen goes blank. That's it. Charles didn't even mention my name or Chase's. Why was I called hear I ask myself while Sarah and Willa verbally attack Mason. Was it just to see Charles stick it to his sisters one last time?

Sarah accuses Mason of manipulating Charles. "Charles was my friend", he fires back calmly. "He knew I was the only one who could protect the company from the two of you. Now, you would do well to remember who now holds your beloved lifestyles in his hands".

I hear Willa's sharp intake of breath at Mason's not so underlined threat. She takes hold of Sarah's arm. "Come along sister, we are done here. At least he didn't leave it to that gold-digging bitch".

I rise as they march by me. "How does it feel to fuck a man more than twice your age for 13-years and have nothing to show for it but a half-breed kid?" Sarah asks me venomously as Willa continues to pull her out the conference room.

It's a good thing too....because I am two seconds from wrapping my hands around her throat and strangling the life out of her. Mason is a lawyer right? I'm sure in this case, he'd have no qualms about moving hell and high water to help keep me out of jail.

I hold the back of the chair tightly to prevent myself from following through on the idea. Once I steady my temper I lift my head to meet Mason's eyes. "Congratulations", I say. "Charles made the right choice".

I turn to leave. "Wait", he says. "Charles has a special message, meant only for you".

I shake my head. I don't want to wait. I don't want any parts in whatever else Charles had concocted.

"Please, Cassandra". Mason moves around table. Taking me by the hands, he guides me back into the chair I vacated. He stays by my side as he reaches across the table, turns the keyboard towards us taps the ENTER key.

The monitor jumps to life again and Charles reappears. He adjusts his navy-blue tie. "Now that that's over", he begins. "On to you". He looks direct at the camera and I swear for a second, he can really see me. "You remember the day we met?" he asks. "You were just a girl, living in a small rural Pennsylvania town; one, I just happened to be in conducting business with a local farmer. Your father came to the farm to repair the fencing".

I frown slightly. Of course, I remember. And, as I recall, the Gaither's place wasn't exactly a farm. It was an estate; nothing quite as large as the one I currently reside in, but it sat on acres upon acres of land. And, the Gaithers's were cattle ranchers, not farmers.

"Your father arrives with this 17-year old girl in a white T-shirt and denim shorts that showed off long, skinny brown legs; a tool belt tied around her waist". "I watched you a while, prepared to dismiss your presence, then your father introduced you to Matt. You smiled at Matt bright and beautiful. Then, you turned that smile on me and I was instantly a goner. I loved you from that very moment".

I don't know what to say or if I should say anything at all so I remain quiet. Charles told me once that he loved me.....only once. I had no idea for how long because I never asked. Love was a topic we always stirred clear of, except for that one moment. He was sick at the time and so hopped up on meds, I wasn't even sure he remembered, let alone meant it.

"I loved you Cassandra", he says again. "Knowing it was inappropriate for a man my age to feel what I felt for you. I lingered in town longer than I needed to, just to see you. Every time I did, I fell deeper in love with you. You became my obsession, my greatest desire.". He pauses, looking away. When he looks at the camera again, at me, I grow nervous. Mason must sense this because he touches my shoulder comfortingly.

Charles clears his throat, "A man in love; more specifically, desperately in love will do anything to have what he wants".

I'm not liking this. My nervousness continues and beads of sweat form on my brow.

"I learned everything I could about you; discovered your scholarship to Cornell...your dream school. Wow, I thought to myself, beautiful and smart. Then, something came over me, planted an idea in my head. I had to make you mine. So, I took it all away from you. I had your scholarship rescinded. I knew your father's business struggled, and he did not have the means to cover the cost. Afterwards, I approached him with a proposition that would ensure you got into Cornell. He felt like such a failure because he couldn't give you what you wanted. I knew if I dangled the carrot he would bite, that you both would".

I had been devastated when I received the letter in the mail for Cornell, stating that after re-evaluating they decided to award the scholarship to another candidate. I cried for days.

How could he do something so underhanded?

A million less than favorable names to call him, race through my mind. However, Charles was right. Both, my father and I had played a part in me being tied to a life with him. That carrot he dangled, no matter how he manipulated the situation, was ours to bite or walk away from....as Charles states, we bit it, each for our own reasons. So, at 17 years old I married a man older than my father, who promised to take care of me and give me my Cornell education. And, Charles kept his word. He gave me what I wanted and much more. The lifestyle being Mrs. Charles Friel afforded me, allowed me to help my father get back on his feet. His business never grew beyond our hometown but it kept him happy until the day he left this earth to reunite with my mother in heaven.

Now it's my turn to look away. Yes, I am beyond mad at discovering what Charles had done. But, I am also embarrassed that the details of our unconventional union have been brought to light in front of Mason.

Mason pauses the DVD. "It's okay", he says, in a low soothing voice. "Take a deep breath".

"You knew", I whisper. He nods. "Before the will?" I ask. He nods again. "How long?"

"Since the beginning. My father was the head of the Board of Trustees for Cornell", he explains. He sighs. "There's more", he informs me before resuming the DVD.

Charles's rubs his hands over his face and when they come away, he looks, sad. "I'm sorry, so very sorry. My only excuse is that I love you, beyond reason", he says softly. "I love you", he says again, with such conviction, that I cannot help but understand the underline meaning of his words.

I stare at the screen, at him. The truth of my own feelings hung in the air between us.  I cared for him deeply, but even after all these years, I did not love him in return; we both knew it. Some part of me feels guilty. Despite, how we came to be husband and wife, he gave me the very best pieces of himself. I accepted them, all the while wishing for my.....

I stop, lowering my eyes.

"You likely hate me in this moment", he continues. "I don't blame you. It isn't every day, you learn that someone destroyed your life just to have you in theirs". He stops, his forehead wrinkling with thought. "We did have good times, didn't we, Cassandra?"

We did. We honestly did.

"Any way, back to the matter at hand. I know you are confused by the events which took place earlier. Please understand that I did not leave you the company, simply because we both know you wouldn't want it. No, my love, what you want, is what I should have given you long before now; what I stole from you".  He rakes his hands through his hair. "I release you, Cassandra; you and Chase. I give you your freedom".

He says the word; the one I couldn't bring myself to say.

I lift my eyes, staring at Charles's face until the screen goes blank. I forget about Mason until he sits a large envelope down in front of me and I jump with a start.

"What's in it?" I ask, eyeing it wearily.

"Open it and see", he commands gently.

I lift the envelope with shaky hands, fumbling with it a bit. I reach inside and pull out two sets of documents. I scan the documentation carefully.

The first thing I notice is my name on it all it. The second thing I notice is that, while the first is for a home, the second set is for a business; a Bed and Breakfast, to be exact; the dream I dreamt aloud once.

I recall the conversation I had with Charles during a lazy afternoon of lounging about in our sunroom. The conversation was casual, relaxing. I told him a little about my mother and how she fantasized about owning a quaint Bed and Breakfast that she and I would run together.

He remembered...not just about my mother, but, that it became my fantasy as well.  

I look up from the documents to meet Mason's eyes.

Mason smiled slightly. "Charles came to me a few months ago, with papers in hand for two properties he'd purchased. He wanted the properties to be kept off the books, so he asked that I take ownership, with the understanding both would eventually be turned over to you. The house is move in ready, the Bed and Breakfast needs some work. I was going to see to the repairs but Charles thought you'd prefer having something that you can put your stamp on".

I nodded, Charles was correct. It wouldn't feel much like freedom if it was all wrapped up with a pretty bow.

"I've already hired a local contractor, ready to get started; you just have to give the go ahead".

He pushes one of his fancy slender pins my way. "It's yours, Cassandra.  All you have to do is sign".

I lick my lips. "So, I sign and what, just pack up Chase and leave?" I ask.

He nods. "Take the gift Cassandra. Take your freedom, take your son and don't look back. The rest of us should be so lucky".

I leave Mason Wentworth's office is a daze, barely remembering I signed the documents until I plop down into the back seat of my Uber ride and unconsciously lay the envelope across my lap. Am I doing the right thing I wonder?

The driver stops in front of the Estate and I climb out to find Willa and Sarah there waiting. "What do you want?" I ask.

"To talk to you", Willa answers.

"That would be a first", I reply.

They are up to something, I can see it. Maybe, they found out I stayed behind and they want to know what, if anything, I may have ended up getting from Charles. I think about the envelope I am holding. I'm not about to share its contents with these harpies. I know exactly who they are and what they are about.

"We won't be long", she says quickly.

Sarah sighs impatiently. "For heaven's sake, let's go inside and get this over with".

Willa shoots her a warning look and Sarah closes her mouth, pressing her lips together.

Now, I sigh. I don't have time for the bullshit. "How about we stay right here and you just tell me what you want".

"Your help", Willa blurts out.

I snicker. "You want my help?"

"Yes. It seems Charles screwed us all over and if we work together we can take back what should be ours, not Mason's".

I snicker again, "Wow, and I'm the gold-digging bitch". I shake my head. "Go away. Charles made his decision, respect it".

Sarah opens her mouth to speak. I glare at her. "Choose you next words carefully", I warn her. "Because if you choose wrong, you're going to be using some of that not-so-hard-earned money to have your teeth realigned".

Willa takes Sarah by the arm and begins to walk toward the gate. "Just think it over", she says.

"I already have. My answer is no".  I touch my chin with my free hand. "Wait. I mean my answer is hell no".

As I watch them scurry away I no longer have to wonder if I did the right thing. Chase and I are so outta here.

2)

The house Mason spoke of is a large two-story home built of gray colored brick, with wide windows outlined with black shutters and a wrap-around porch with matching white railing. The house is situated about a mile back from the main road, sitting on just over an acre of flawlessly manicured landscape in Greenville, Maine.

I know zero about Maine, even less about this town, but as I sit in the backseat of the taxi I rented, watching the scenery go by, I instantly feel a sense of peace. This place reminds me of my life back in Edensburg, Pennsylvania. Not in the sense that they are exactly similar; Edensburg is rural while, Greenville is a gateway town, situated at the bottom of Moose Head Lake, the largest lake in the State (according to the brochure I snagged at the airport).

What I mean to say is Greenville appears quiet, like Edensburg; slower paced than New York, reminding me of a time in my life when things had been less complicated.

As the taxi pulls into the driveway, I hear Chase shift in the seat beside me. I glance over to see him crooning his neck to get a good view of the land surrounding the house. He doesn't say anything; hasn't since we drove away from New York and the only home he's known from the day he was born. But, I see a glimmer of interest.

My heart swells with hope.

My announcement that we were moving had not gone over well and he sat in silent protest during the plane ride from New York to Portland, Maine and the long taxi ride from the airport our new home.

I get it...I do. I felt the same way when I drove away from Edensburg in the back seat of a fancy Bentley, seated beside my new husband. I watched everything I ever knew disappear in the rearview mirror of Charles's car. It crushed me in ways I could not begin to communicate.

This is different; I get that too. I made a choice. Chase did not get one.

I touch Chase's hand. I want him to understand why I did this. I want him to see that, while he gave up a home, a school filled with friends, he gained the same thing I did....freedom.

His aunts surely would have never left us at alone. Not while, we remained living in the family Estate. And, not so long as they were determined to use whatever resource, me especially, to dethrone Mason. I want no part in their schemes. I also have no intention of letting them drag Chase into their mess either.

As I climb out of the taxi and look up at the house, I breathe a sigh of relief. The house is mine, my life is mine. Silently, I thank Charles for his gift.

"Woah!" I hear Chase say from behind me when we step inside our new home. The fully furnished living room is grand, boasting a high ceiling and large double-pane windows that allowed an abundance of natural light into the home, which bounced off of the gleaming cherry wood flooring.

I drop my bags and begin walking. The flooring carried through the formal dining room (also fully furnished), stopping at the open gourmet kitchen, where it gave way to two-toned marble flooring in contrasting shades of tan that matched the countertops. Dark oak cabinets aligned the walls, accompanied by matching base cabinets; all topped off with stainless steel appliances.

Just beyond the kitchen sits a fully furnished bonus room with a fireplace. The walls are a muted shade of tan that, with the sun shining through the double French doors, makes a cozy scene. I peer out the doors and spot a boat house. Just beyond it, I can see greenery and a short dock leading to a small body of water I gather flows out into  Moose Head Lake at a point I could not see from where I stood.

I hear another "Woah" from Chase, somewhere in the distance and I smile. His sudden enthusiasm I find interesting. This house is half the size of our old home, yet I can't recall him every giving the place one whoa, let alone two. 

A second later he appears before me. "Mom, you have to see this", he says, taking my hand and tugging me away from the view.

I don't mind. He's talking and he's excited; I am happy.

He drags me up the set of back stairs to the second floor, so fast I almost missed noticing the powder room beside them. Chase pulls me into a massive bedroom, I deduce is the master. It is, not surprisingly, furnished like the rest of the house. The main wall holds a four-posted king-sized bed, covered in cream colored bedding and large fluffy pillows Just to its left is a private sitting area; to the right, the master bath.

Down the hall is another large bedroom with its own smaller bathroom, perfect for Chase. Two smaller bedrooms with a Jack-n-Jill bathroom, finish off the second level.

The house is perfect.

After unpacking a good bit of our belongings, Chase enters my bedroom announcing he is hungry. My stomach answers for me with a rumble of its own. I giggle. "Clearly, so am I", I say.

"F.Y.I., checked the refrigerator, it's empty", he informs me.

Oh no. Food was the one thing I completely forgot about.

I scratch my head, thinking. "I guess we'll have to google this town and find some place that delivers".

Chase nods in agreement. "You know", he says. "We can't order out every night".

"I'm aware", I reply.

"We are going to have to go shopping. We don't have someone to do it for us anymore", he points out.

"We'll manage", I say.

"How are we going to get to the supermarket? We need a car".

"To what, admire parked out front?" I ask.  "You know I don't know how to drive".

"Dad's gone, you need to learn", he says in a tone that is not childlike.

"Go wash up", I tell him. "I'll order dinner".

I glare at his back as he leaves. Not because I'm angry, but, because he is right. My 9-year old son, the voice of logic.

After dinner, I settle into my new bed with a book. I stare at the same page for a while then shut the book. It is useless, I can't concentrate with so much going on inside my head. Charles's revelation still weighed on my mind. 

Charles waltzed into my life and turned my world upside down. Then, he dies and my world is flipped yet again. I am a 30 year-old widow, who went for rags to riches and back.

I shake my head. That, was not entirely true. I look around my bedroom, taking in every detail. I am hardly living in squalor. This house is amazing and I have plenty of money in the bank, more than enough to get by. I am also, apparently a business owner.

Tomorrow I am to meet with the contractor at the Bed and Breakfast I owed but had yet to officially name. I am anxious and unsure about this venture. I had not done any research, but, I am pretty sure Bed and Breakfasts were not exactly a new concept in this area. What would set mine apart from the rest? I desperately wanted to figure that out because I did not want to fail, I couldn't.

Too much was riding on its success.

I frown at myself. What is wrong with me. I am an intelligent, capable woman with a degree in Economics. "Which you've never used", my inner voice whispers.

I did not put my degree to use, true. Charles and I had come to a second arrangement regarding our marriage. He wanted children, he agreed to wait until after I finished college. No sooner than my name was inked onto my degree, he flushed my birth control down the toilet. Six months later, I was pregnant with Chase.

When I held Chase in my arms for the first time, nothing became more important than him. So, I went from college grad straight to full time "stay at home" mother. I could have worked, we had plenty of house staff who would have attended to Chase. But, I am his mother. I wanted to be the one to raise him, instill his values. It was important to me he knew love first hand, like I did from my parents.

"Mom".

Chase is standing in my doorway. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He asks, sounding like a child again. I pat the empty space beside me. He crawls in.  I kiss his hair and almost immediately, he drifts off.

My mouth sets with determination. I can do this....I will do it. Just, like I will learn to drive.

******

My taxi arrives later than expected, which makes Chase and I late for my meeting with the contractor.

I slide into the back of the taxi with Chase, bark out the address to the drive and we are on our way. Unconsciously, I began to chew my fingernail; a habit I had not visited since I was 12. I catch myself mid-chew, lowering my hand. I stare out the window, noticing that instead of the coastline, I am looking at mountains.

I frown. "Excuse me? Where are you taking us?" I ask the drive.

He glances at me through the rearview mirror. "To the location you gave me", he replies.

"This isn't the coastline", I point out.

"Your location isn't on the coastline", he fires back.

My frown deepens. "Then, where is it?"

"Up by Albany Mountain, Ma'am".

Mountain? Did he say mountain?

"There must be some mistake".

The driver shakes his head, "No ma'am".

I offer no additional response. What could I say? Again, I know zero about Maine, so if the man says my location is up by the mountains, who am I to argue with him. However, I mentally go through what I have in my purse that I can use as a weapon just in case he isn't on the up and up.

Luckily for him, he is, I say to myself as he pulls to a stop outside a three-story log cabin style structure. I scan the building and its surroundings as I pay my fare.

"Do you want me to wait?", the driver asks.

I can tell he sees the look of uncertainty on my face. Chase hops out and begins walking. "No. Thank you", I say quickly, jumping out and rushing to catch up to Chase. I take Chase by the arm. "What are you thinking, taking off like that? There's likely wild animals out here".

Chase's eyes widen...not in fear, in sheer delight. "Cool!" he belts out.

"Not so cool if one mistakes you for a meal".

"What kind?" he asks, totally ignoring my comment.

I roll my eyes into the air.

"Bears mostly", a deep male voice says from behind us. "But we have our fair share of bobcats, mountain lions and such".

I turn with a start. Immediately I pull Chase closer to me, holding his arm in a vice-like grip.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you", he says. "I saw you from up there" he explains, pointing over his shoulder up toward the third level of the cabin with his thumb.

I stare at him; I know I am but I can't seem to do much else. Yes, he startled me damn near to death but that isn't the only reason. I find myself transfixed on his ruggedly handsome face, most specifically, his pale green eyes, which, with the sun shining into them, almost appear yellow...no, not yellow...golden. 

He steps closer. His frame is broad and solid. Even underneath the loose fit of his red and black flannel shirt, I see the bulge of muscles. And, he is tall, I realize, 6'2", possibly 6'3". At 5'7", I find I still have to tilt my head more than a bit, to continue to look at him. 

The sun is now also bathing his shoulder length hair in light; the thick strains are a rich sable, perfectly matching the short, neatly trimmed hair covering his square jaw, chin and the upper portion of his mouth.

His face contorts a bit, showing signs of concern. I know it is because I have yet to do more than stand here, still as a statue, gazing at him. Inside my head I scream to myself, "Say something Cassie!"

"Are you the contractor?" God, is that really me? I ask myself, hearing the small, timid voice that comes out of me.

His lips curve into a friendly smile, as he extends his hand. He nods, "Noah McCormick".

I look down, taking the hand he offers. His fingers are a bit calloused. The contact with my softer fingers sends a shiver along my spine. "Casandra Friel", I reply, again in that mousy voice; this time, however, it's shaky.

My hand remains in his. He is watching me more closely now and I am mortified that he might see what is really going on.

What is going on?

I'm not 100% certain but it feels like attraction; raw, lusty, attraction.

I slip my hand from his, desperate to break our contact. He watches me a little longer than he kneels down, so that he is eye level with Chase.

"Hi there" he says.

"Hi", Chase replies. "Are there really bears and lions out here?"

Noah nods. "Yup, sure are".

"Awesome", Chase says, beaming with excitement.

"Steer clear", he warns Chase. "Wild animals are unpredictable".

He rose, our eyes connect again. "Ready to go inside?" he asks.

I nod. 

As I follow him up the walkway, Chase at my side, I can't help but wonder if he fell into that category.

I chew on the notion; however, my thoughts are averted when we enter the "cabin". Upon observation, I see my use of the word is accurate...too accurate for my particular taste. The interior walls are an exact replication of the exterior, all large, brown logs. Even the ceiling is covered with them. At the main entrance is a sitting area with two old sofas, dressed in flowered fabric. A coffee table which appeared to be handcrafted of wood, sat between them. It is a great area, that catches plenty of sunlight during the day through the long, wide windows and I bet the view of the woods and mountain is breathtaking at night. Across the room is the check-in area; the dilapidated counter had seen better days I'm sure.

We continue venturing through, into a dining area with eight bulky wood tables and matching chair that have the same flowery fabric as the sofas in the sitting area. It is a terrible fabric and I cannot help but frown at the idea someone thought to carrying it over into this room.

The kitchen, 2nd and 3rd floor bedrooms and bathrooms are more of the same; old, outdated furniture.

I resist the urge to sigh. I may be from small town U.S.A. originally, but rustic is not my cup of tea, never was. The small renovation I imagined based on my conversation with Mason, was way off the mark. Everything must go.

Mentally, I begin doing a checklist of what needed to happen to make this place ready to open for business. By the time we return to the sitting area, my brain hurts ever so slightly.

"What do you think?" Noah asks me.

I've no clue but I do not say so out loud. I need to go home and regroup, my mind has had one too many shocks this morning. First, the unexpected, instantaneous draw to him. Then, the revelation that my new business will likely break the bank in order for me to get it up and running the way I see fit.

"I have a few ideas", I say instead. "I will have to work them out on paper first then I'll get back to you and we can discuss the cost".

"I've done a full inspection. It may not look like it but this place has good bones. The roofer is newer, the plumbing is in excellent condition, HVAC needs updating but there are no foundation issues. Mostly needs some cosmetics", Noah says, stroking his chin.

That was a relief to hear. "Thank you. Do you wish to be paid separately for the initial inspection?"

Noah raises an eyebrow. "The inspection fee was paid beforehand".

"Oh, I see". Mason did mention that the contractor was on standby. I clear my throat, "In that case, I will work on the details and be in touch".

"Okay", he replies. "I'll wait to hear from you".

Out goes his hand. I hesitate before taking his offered hand. No sooner than we touch, I feel the crackle of energy in the air. My breath catches in my lungs and I quickly pull away.

I can feel his eyes boring into me but I do not dare look up to meet them. Instead, I focus my attention on Chase. "Say good-bye to Mr. McCormick, Chase".

Chase waves as I ushered us to the door. I am half way down the walk when I remember I sent the taxi driver away without securing a means for us to get back home.

I pull out my cell phone to call for a ride only to discover I have no service. I guess the mountain and the trees are messing with the reception. "Damn it".

"You said a bad word mom", Chase informs me.

"I know sweetie. Sorry. My cell phone isn't working and we need a ride". I glance over my shoulder to see Noah standing in the doorway. I've no alternative but to ask for his assistance or Chase and I will be stuck up here for God knows how long.

3)

I never knew a drive could be this torturous.

As luck would have it, Noah's vehicle of choice happens to be a white work truck with a single cab. The three of us slid into the black seat and I immediate regret caving to his insistence that Chase ride on the end of the passenger side. He is right about Chase needing to buckle in; however, I can only focus on the fact the cab is compact, forcing me to sit very close to him.

Every movement he makes, from strapping on his own seat belt to shift the truck into drive, causes his arm to bump against mine. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up off of his forearms, so I feel the fine hair there brush my skin. It helps little, that he smells overwhelming masculine; a subtle earthy scent that tickles my senses, setting them on full alert.

The pit of my stomach twists itself into a ball of nervous knots and my breath grows shallow. Good God, is this normal, to feel such a strong attraction to someone you just met?

"Why didn't you drive yourself up here?" Noah asks as he pulls away from the Bed and Breakfast.

I hear his question but I can't seem to draw enough breath into my lungs to formulate a response.

"Mom doesn't drive", Chase responds when I do not. "She doesn't know how".

"Chase", I finally choke out, embarrassed that he just told a complete stranger something so personal.

"You don't know how to drive?" Noah questions.

 "Not everyone does", I say defensively.

Noah is quiet. Chase is quiet...I am quiet. We ride in silence for a good while.

"You can't take taxi's up here and back every day", Noah announces. "I will drive you".

My mouth falls open. "You...you....I...I can't ask that of you", I sputter.

"You're not; I'm offering", Noah replies. "We are both going to be travelling this way for the next several months, if I am guessing correctly. It just makes sense".

He has a point, I know. But, I worry if I can mentally survive been this close to him for extended periods of time. 

I have never felt so out of touch with myself, yet completely aware of my being as I do right now, in his presence. The feeling is foreign, scary. I need to get a grip on myself.

Two weeks ago, I buried my husband. I should be mourning Charles, not imagining the feel of another man's hands on my body.

A chill, laced with guilt, washes over me, snapping my back to reality. I may not have loved Charles but he deserved better than to be replaced so quickly.

I stiffen, the intensity causes my spine to go rigidly straight. "That's kind of you but I'll manage", I respond tightly.

Silence fills the space once again and we remain that way for the most part, until he realized he did not know where I lived. He asked and I spouted off the address.

He nodded.

I gathered he knew how to get there, since he did not ask me any other details. Before long, we pull into my driveway. Chase hops out immediately. I go to slide out behind him but Noah takes hold of my arm. That charge of electricity I felt before, surges through his fingers into me. He must feel it too because his expression changes to something I am unable to read clearly.

"I wasn't trying to offend you earlier", he said, letting go of me.

Again, I am struck dumb, my voice disappearing somewhere inside me.

I watch Noah pull a card from his shirt pocket and scribble on the back. He passes the card to me. "My offer stands; take it or leave it. Your choice", he says as I exit the truck.

After he drives off, I look down at the card; it is his business card, which I already had thanks to Mason; however, he had written his personal cell phone number on the back.

I sigh, placing it in my pants pocket.

Chase and I spend the rest of the day unpacking the remainder of our belongings and organizing everything. The day quickly turns into night and with it our bellies warn us of their need for food.

After dinner, Chase and I watch some of his favorite television shows together, curled up on the bed in his room. It doesn't take long for me to realize what he really wanted was for me stay until he fell asleep. When his eyes grew heavy lidded and drifted closed, I kissed his forehead and slipped quietly from his room, leaving the television on to provide both some light and a since of comfort.

I make my way down the hall to my own bedroom. Soon as I step inside, I become all too aware of how large and empty it feels. Not eager to crawl into bed, I decide to have a long bubble filled soak in the whirlpool tub.

I sink down into the bubbles and turn on the jets. The combination lulls me into a state of relaxation. I lean back to let my head and neck rest on the built-in headrest. My eyes turn upward and for the first time, I notice the skylight above the tub. Through it, I can see the night sky; the dark blue peppered with bright shining stars.

I cannot help but smile in delight of my discovery. There was nothing I enjoyed more than a night time sky full of stars. When I was a child, I would spend hours sitting by my window looking up at them and wondering if there was someone on the other side looking back at me.

After my mom had passed, I began to wonder if she was that person. Of course, time and maturity put an end to such thoughts. Now, as I am looking upward I find my thoughts on Noah.

I wish I could say they were on Charles but it was pointless to lie to myself. Noah was under my skin in a bad way and I had no idea what to do about it. I could not avoid him, he was contracted to work on the Bed and Breakfast. I could fire him but then I'd have to go through the paces of finding a replacement. And, besides, it would be unfair to him. He did nothing to insight or encourage my attraction.

I sigh. I am a grown damn woman. I should be able to conduct myself like an educated businesswoman regardless of the circumstances; I have to. Our future, mine and Chase's, were dependent on me making the Bed and Breakfast a success. Nothing was more important, especially not my hormones, which seemed to raging like a teenager. I have to swallow them down and suppress them.

Noah McCormick wasn't and couldn't be anything other than a means to help me get my business up and running.

*****

Two days later.....

Planning and preparations for the renovations of the Bed and Breakfast have risen my stress level to the point of making my head explode. I have been so worried over every single detail from color pallets to choices of wood grain that I worked myself in a headache.

Noah, whom I have only spoken to via cell phone for the past two days, has been nothing but patient and supportive in my indecision..... two qualities I'd never had guest he possessed or that I would require. He has even offered a few ideas I have taken into consideration.

Today, he phoned me bright and early with an invitation to meet him in Portland. I had been prepared to turn him down, the coward in me afraid of how I would react to once again being in his presence. The invitation extended to Chase as well, but I found no comfort in having him there; however, I resolved to accept the invitation.

Logically, I knew I cannot effectively conduct business with him via phone for the next few months. So, I suck it up, give myself another pep talk about being an intelligent, rational woman and ready myself to go meet him.

Once I am dressed, I take a step back to examine my appearance. My mouth fall slightly open at the image reflected back at me. The jeans I chose, hug the contours of my body, accenting the roundness of my hips and ass. The top is no better, showing of full breasts and my narrow waist. I even, unconsciously, applied a little make-up. The shade of lipstick a is mocha brown, like my skin. With the gloss coat applied, it gives my lips a hint of additional fullness. The liner I applied around my cat-shaped eyes is just a thin line of charcoal black but nonetheless, the deep brown of my irises stands out against it.

My hair is loose and the thick black strands fall to my shoulders. The style accentuates my high cheeks bones.

I look.....sexy. OMG!

Had I meant to?

I can't go meet Noah dressed like this.

Panicked, I begin rummaging through my clothing in search of something more appropriate, like a pair of "mom" jeans and an oversized shirt. And, the make-up was getting scrubbed off for sure.

Ten minutes later, I slide into the back seat of the taxi with Chase. I am mortified, as I am still wearing my first outfit, make-up still in place.

"Damn taxi driver!" I think to myself, glaring at the back of his head. Why did he have to show up right on time? Thwarting my chance to get out of this ridiculous get up.

Well, I don't exactly look ridiculous, I concede. I look like I said before...sexy. I just don't want to look like this.

What will Noah think when he sees me? I find myself wondering after I rattle off the address he texted me and the driver takes off. Maybe, I don't look sexy. Maybe he won't think so either.

I frown, chewing the inside of my lip.

Beside me, Chase is looking out the window, taking in the scenery.

The grass and trees give way to tall buildings and concrete sidewalks. People are out and about. Portland is a busy town, still not as busy as New York but it definitely had the air of "major city" about it.

We continue to drive, the coastline coming into view. The city grows quieter and the sound of the ocean can be heard through the open window of the taxi. The tall buildings fade and smaller, quainter buildings take their place. The waterfront, is just a stone's throw from where we pull to a stop. From our position, I can see boats docked in the water. I also, see Noah.

His back is to us but I know it is him. Like me, he is dressed in jeans. Today, there is no flannel shirt covering him. The plain white T-shirt he is wearing reveals just how defined his muscles are; even his back has definition.

My heart begins to race.

Chase hops out, running over to greet him. I watch their exchange, as I pay the taxi driver and climb out slowly, walking toward them.

There is a ruggedly boyish charm to his face as he listens intently to Chase's barge of questions about boats. For a man, who seemingly has grit and gruffness about him, he is showing a surprising amount of patience with Chase. Not only that, he appears to have actual interest in offering answers to Chase's questions.

Noah lifts his head. When our eyes meet my heart leaps into my throat. That same rush of attraction crashes into me.

"Good morning Cassandra", he says in that deep masculine voice of his.

"Good morning", I reply, doing my best not to look away.

I clear my throat. "Cassie", I correct. I never liked being called by my formal name. Charles refused to call me anything but Cassandra in public and in the privacy of our home, stating that Cassie was not a fitting name because it lacked maturity and sophistication. "Call me Cassie".

"Cassie", he repeats as he begins walking and Chase and I fall into step beside him.

"Where are you taking us?" I ask, a little more at ease now that we are moving.

"For a walk", was all he said.

A walk?

There were a million things I needed to do to complete the planning of the renovations for the Bed and Breakfast.  I do not have time to go for a stroll along the Portland Waterfront.

"Trust me", Noah says.

We walk in silence, the three of us. But, that did not last long. Chase, being the curious boy he is, began asking more questions. And, Noah willingly answered them. I let the two of them chat away uninterrupted, while I just look about.

Somewhere during our journey, we veer away from the waterfront, down a small street lined with single story businesses. Noah comes to a halt outside the window of a tiny Mom-N-Pop furniture crafting store at the end of the street we are on. The exterior is drab and unassuming, which makes me raise an eyebrow. However, before I can comment, Noah ushers Chase and I inside.

Beautiful hand-crafted pieces are scattered about. The space is tight but the pieces are positioned in a way that makes it easy to navigate through while getting a good look at each and every one. I am in awe of the level of craftmanship before me. I spot the most beautiful two-seater swing in the far corner of the shop and I fill with delight.

I stare at the swing, feeling an emotional connection to it. And, I know I will not leave here without making it mine. I can already envision myself sitting out back of my home, swinging away while I watch the sunset on the pond.

I wanted the experience of witnessing, nature in such a fine moment. I slip into an almost dream-like state, thinking about it. Then, it hit me...the knowledge that I wanted to insight the same connection in those who'd come to stay at the B&B. This what I've been searching for; my vision.

Overjoyed, I unconsciously reach out for something to hold on to and find Noah's hand. Again, there is the spark; the one that steals my breath away. We stand there, neither knowing how to react.

"Noah McCormick".

The greeting distracts my attention. I release Noah's hand and turn to see the thin gray-haired woman who appeared from out of nowhere.

"Good to see you, Mae", he responds to the older woman as she gives him an affectionate hug. The look on Noah's face is pleasant, yet I get the sense that he feels a bit awkward.

"It's been a long time, Noah. Too long".

"I brought you a customer", he says, instead of offering a reply to her comment.

Mae smiles at me, causing the creases underneath her amber colored eyes to deepen. Her smile is the kind of smile that is infectious and the corners of my mouth turn upward automatically.

"Well", Mae says. "She's very pretty. You always did have an eye for the pretty ones".

"Meme", I hear Noah say. I know enough about endearments to know the term means grandmother.

"Cassie is a client", he goes on to explain.  "She purchased the Cutter's old lodge up in Albany. I'm renovating it for her".

"The Cutter's place", she repeats.

"Yes", I chime in, clearing my throat.

Mae nods. "I see".

"Cassie is looking to refurnish, so I thought I'd bring her to the best little furniture store I know".

Mae chuckles. "Aren't you sweet".

Noah shrugs, "Just truthful".

I hear them but my attention has gone back to the swing.

Mae touches my arm. "That swing is one of the first pieces my husband made; it's old but built to last. I had it moved here to the shop some years ago, after he passed and I didn't need a big ole house to live in by myself", she says.

I read between the lines and understand that the swing is not for sale. I am disappointed.

"Mom, check this out". Chase running over, holding a flute carved out of rich dark wood.

"Chase, you can't just pick up whatever you want without asking", I scold.

"Sorry", he mumbles. "Can I have it?" he ask right after.

"Sure", I reply. He really likes it and there is no sense in us both being disappointed.

I purchase Chase the flute and promise Mae I will return to look at some pieces for the Bed & Breakfast, we head out.

Relenting to Noah's insistence, I accept his offer to drive us home.

No sooner than we get home, I begin working on ideas for the B&B. The ideas come in a continuous unstoppable flow. Not even, Chase's incessant blowing into his new flute can disrupt my thoughts. I work tirelessly and before I realize it, night has fallen.

Oh no, I realize, I had been so wrapped up in working that lunchtime completely slipped by me.

I drag myself away from my work and make my way upstairs to Chase's room. He is sitting "Indian" style on the floor, playing his new flute, quite badly. I cannot help but smile. "Hey kiddo", I say softly. "You hungry?"

He stops playing. "I ordered us a pizza; 30-minutes or less."

I slide down onto the floor beside him. I kiss the top of his head. "That was very thoughtful of you".

"You were busy".

"I'm sorry sweetie, about forgetting lunch".

He shrugs, "It's okay".

Is wasn't okay, not to me. I need to do better, now that Chase and I are on our own. I cannot help but to chew on this over our shared pizza and while I lie in bed willing myself to sleep.

*****

The next morning, I awake to the sound of Chase's flute. I push my bang out of my face as I sit up, sighing. At first, I thought the sound was coming from down the hall, now I realize it is coming through my open window.

I scramble out of bed and into my robe, racing down the stairs, ready to scold him for leaving the house without permission, even if it is only out back. I fling open the French doors to the sitting room and come to a screeching halt when I see Noah.

He is showing Chase where to place his fingers on the flute.

"Mom!" Chase calls out. "Listen to this".

I wonder what Noah is doing here but then Chase starts to play a cheerful little tune on his flute. I am surprised by the significant difference from his playing last night. "Wow, Chase that's amazing". I offer him an encouraging smile. "Now, go inside, it's chilly out".

Chase pokes out his lip.

"Listen to your momma, Chase", Noah says. He winks at Chase, who hops up and bounces happily inside.

"What are you doing here?" I ask when we are alone.

"I called your phone this morning but you didn't answer, so I came by. I couldn't very well drive around with this thing in my truck all day".

I frown, confused then he points. I step outside, ignoring the coldness of the wood against my bare feet. There on my back porch is the swing from Mae's shop. My mouth falls open. "I-I...S-she didn't want to sell it".

"Do you not want it? I can take it back", he says.

"No!", I exclaim rushing forward, taking hold of his arm.

"Here, sit. See if you like this spot", he orders.

He leads me to the swing and I sit. I begin to rock, looking out where the sun touches the tops of the trees. The spot is just right.

"What do you think?" Noah askes.

"It's perfect", I say. I pat the empty space beside me. "Come see for yourself".

He sits, pushing the seat with his long legs, increasing the motion of the swing. We sit together quietly, relaxing against the swing of the seat and the view.

"Noah, I don't know what you did or said to get Mae to part with this swing, but thank you".

He shrugs. "It didn't take much convincing".

I ponder the answer for a moment. "How much do I owe her?"

Noah shakes his head. "It's taken care of".

He paid for my swing.

"Noah". I search his face. Maybe I am reading more into the gesture; maybe there is more to the gesture. Whatever the case I find myself moving toward him.

"Cassandra", he says in a low, warning voice.

"Don't call me Cassandra", I say breathlessly then my lips touch his. The contact ignites a hunger I've never felt before. My entire body is vibrating. And, he hasn't even kissed me back. I want him to, more than I wanted the swing we are perched on.

He takes my face in his large hands, gently easing me away. His eyes are a darker green, a sign that he is not unaffected by my kiss. He releases me, rising. "I should go", he says.

I nod in agreement, remaining where I sit, because I am 99.9% sure if I move, I'll do something stupid.

"Talk to you soon, Cassie", he says as he disappears around the side of the house.

"Talk to you soon, Noah", I say to myself.