Читать книгу A Place to Heal - CA J.D. Bodiford - Страница 4

Emma flipped through the stack of papers on her desk. Her mother was beyond compare when it came to writing her messages down, sometimes in great detail, but where she chose to put them was always the challenge of the day. If she thought they were concerning ordinary things, she would stack them in endless piles on Emma’s desk. If she thought they were somewhat important, she would place them in the basket on the kitchen counter. However, if she thought they were very important, she would place them on the vanity in Emma’s bathroom where she was sure she would find them. So every day, Emma would make the rounds of these three places and gather everything up to go through with her morning coffee. Today was no exception.

“Emma are you up?” her mother called out, right on schedule.

“Yes, Mom, I’m in here,” Emma answered patiently.

The study door opened and her mother strolled in, dressed to the nines, every hair in place, draped with jewelry. She carried her morning cup of tea, sipping delicately as she sat down in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk.

“So what are your plans for today, dear?” she asked.

Emma smiled, the familiar routine bringing her reassurance that her mother was having a good day today. After the death of her brothers, her mother had sank into a deep depression, functioning only enough to get through each day as long as nothing stressful happened. Then Emma’s father had died six months later and she had just shut down. It had taken a whole year of hospitalization to bring her back but she would never be the same again. Her days now were simple, much like a child’s. She had a daily routine that as long as it didn’t vary, ensured she could get through the hours. She got up at the same time, ate the same thing for breakfast, started her day dressed as if for a party and depended on Emma to be sure everything ran smoothly. If it didn’t, if there was even the slightest variance not instigated by her or meeting with her approval, she would return to spend the day in her room, staring sightlessly out the window. It would take days for her to regain her equilibrium, to reestablish her ability to deal with the tasks of everyday life. Together, they dealt with each day as it came, one at a time.

“Well, first I must go through all these messages from yesterday and then I’ll decide what comes next. Who knows? Maybe there’s one here from Howard Hughes.”

Her mother laughed as she always did at Emma’s jokes. “Silly child! You know Howard Hughes is dead!”

“Oh well, a girl can hope can’t she?” Emma said. “What are your plans for today?”

Her mother patted her hair lightly and smoothed her silk pants. “I thought I might call Alice and see if she was up for a visit today.” Emma smiled and played the game. Tuesday was the day her mother always visited her sister.

“I’m sure she would love to see you, Mom.” Emma got up and walked around the desk to lightly kiss her mother on the cheek.

Assured that her mother was safely occupied for the day, Emma returned to the task at hand. Most of the messages were from suppliers letting her know that her orders were in. One or two were requests for interviews from various magazines. She smiled, the thrill still with her even after reaching the top of her profession and staying there for several years now. Her client list read like the Who’s Who of Houston society. She knew that one day the ride would end. Even as she sat in her luxurious home, choosing who to call and who to decline, somewhere there was another Emma, working sixteen-hour days, just waiting for her chance.

She was just about to call it a day and spend the rest of the morning going over several presentations she had due when a name on one of the many slips caught her eye. She frowned, reading it again. Surely, her mother had written this one down wrong. She reached for the phone and dialed the number listed under the name.

Fifteen minutes later, she hung up the phone and sat back in her chair.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said quietly. It had finally happened. She had finally got the call she had been waiting all these years for. Evelyn Connell was the top of the food chain in Houston society. She was the golden goose as far as designers were concerned because any work done at her house was a guaranteed spread in Architectural Digest. And she wanted to meet with Emma about remodeling her guesthouse. Emma’s hands were shaking as she thought about the opportunities that could follow such a job if she was successful. Mrs. Connell’s last designer was now the most sought after in the world due to the publicity and prestige of pleasing such a woman. She looked at her watch and inhaled sharply. She only had four hours to get her things together and get over there. She headed for the door at a run.