Chapter 6
The night was magical beyond belief. Cate had managed to spend time with her daughter, meet a few artists, and book a show all in one fell swoop. She felt like Cinderella at the ball, only without the prince. Not that she needed a prince to be happy, but she secretly held out hope that he would show up at the gallery and would whisk her off to a late dinner. Instead, she ended up home. Alone.
As she walked up to her front door after pulling in the driveway, packages caught her eye. It was unusual for the postal service to deliver past dinner, and she was happy for it. Cate had ordered some things to help her display her art, and it looked like she was going to need it much sooner than expected. Opening the door, she grabbed the packages and made her way inside.
Practically throwing her heels, she began to unpack the supplies directly into her homemade studio. The distraction was good, given all of the things buzzing through her mind. Piece by piece, she placed them carefully in their proper places and formulated a game plan for getting her work and display items to the gallery all in one piece. If she even needed things for display. It was a gallery, after all. Perhaps it was up to them to do all of that. It was official, she was beyond over her head.
As she pulled the tape off the last box, Cate noticed for the first time that it was completely different from the others. Come to think of it, between the wires and the panels she had already unloaded, she might already have all of her order put away. Carefully she placed the tape back down, hoping for a return address, but found none. Actually, her address was void from the box.
Before she could think too hard, Cate ripped the tape completely off and opened the box. Sitting in it was a painting. More precisely, one of her paintings. One she had created after a failed attempt to find her father. It emanated her anger, frustration, confusion, and the rejection her search had left her with. It had been therapeutic, but once the paint dried, Cate had done what every rebellious teen did—she hurled it into the trash can, to never see it again. Although, there it was staring her in the face. She pulled it out, and a note floated to the floor.
Cate,
I saved this from your garbage can all those years ago, planning to give it back to you when you expressed regret over its loss. Sadly, that day didn’t come before I moved, and I held onto it ever since. Have no worries, I always kept it hidden from strangers’ eyes, knowing it was far too personal. I just didn’t have the heart to destroy it.
Levi
Cate read the note over and over again. He had been so right. She had regretted throwing it out in teen angst. His heart swelled at his thoughtfulness in keeping her emotions hidden from the world the way he had, especially knowing his love of art. This had been her most personal piece. She flipped the paper over, hoping for a phone number. Finding none, she emptied out the packing paper, unfolding it gently, looking for a number hidden somewhere, anywhere. Her last hope was the box, but it, too, held nothing. Maybe she had truly had ruined her chances the night before.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Cate opened up her laptop and searched for the number for Stark Enterprises and dialed. After multiple prompts, she saw the fruitlessness of her effort. Her best hope would be to get to Amelia’s desk and leave a message, if only she knew her last name to “dial the first four letters” of. Giving up, she used her favorite “I can’t figure out the prompts” technique and dialed zero. Shockingly, it began to ring and not just go to voice mail.
“Hello, Stark Enterprises. This is Marv speaking.” The man on the end of the voice didn’t mention an answering service. How odd.
“Hello, Marv, my name is Cate Rhodes. I was trying to figure out a way to leave Levi Stark a message, but the prompts had me going in circles.” Story of her life, and from the chuckles released over the phone, she was not alone in this. At least they sounded in good fun.
“I understand, ma’am. They do tend to be convoluted at best. Do you have a pen handy?”
She scoured quickly, finding one and an envelope. It would have to do.
“I do.”
“Call this number in the future.” He recited a phone number slowly.
“Is it Amelia’s desk line?” A girl could dream.
“No, ma’am. It’s his personal number.” Not that a girl usually dreamed that big. His personal number. This had to be a set-up or a pissed-off employee.
“Are you supposed to be giving that out?”
“Only to you, ma’am.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t ruined all things. Levi did this. For her. “I’m security. I was only supposed to answer if it showed as your name. The rest go to voicemail.”
Levi had set up an entire contingency plan, just on the off chance she might call. It was the stuff of sappy romance movies, yet somehow, it was her life. Hope welled within her. Maybe, just maybe, they were in the right place at the right time.
“Levi is very thorough,” Cate added, not knowing what else to say. Thanking him with tears of joy just didn’t seem right.
“That he is, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Marv.” Cate was proud of herself for refraining from gushing and promising him all the cookies.
“Welcome, ma’am.” His voice cracked slightly, and Cate knew a but was coming. “And ma’am, if you don’t mind me speaking freely.”
“Not at all.” By which she meant Tell me all things.
“He’s a good man, and he doesn’t do this kind of thing. Ever.”
She didn’t care if she promised or not. Marv was getting cookies. All the cookies.
“Thank you for that.” She swallowed, holding back happy tears. Levi still wanted her. They were going to do this. At least, if she managed to refrain from messing up again like a ginormous chicken head. “I needed it.”
“The quiver in your voice told me as much, ma’am. And ma’am…” Marv was more perceptive than she gave him credit for. He was probably amazing at his job because of it.
“Yes?”
“You have raised a very strong and kind daughter. She treats my department with the same respect as everyone on the top floor.” And the dam of happy tears broke. Nothing made a mother happier than hearing their child was a good person. Nothing.
“Thank you. I’m very proud of her. Good night.” She rushed her words, the emotion too heady for a phone call with a virtual stranger.
“Good night, ma’am.”