The courage to love, p.1
The Courage To Love,
p.1
The Courage to Love, Copyright 2014 Christina Tetreault
Published by Christina Tetreault
Digital layout: www.formatting4U.com
Excerpt, Forgotten Heiress, Copyright by Susie Warren
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For more information on the author and her works, please see www.christinatetreault.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Sample, Forgotten Heiress
Dear Reader,
Welcome to North Salem, Massachusetts, the setting for my new series. Some of you may remember the town from The Billionaire Playboy, book 2 in The Sherbrookes of Newport Series. However, if this is your first time visiting, please let me tell you a little about it.
Located forty minutes outside of Boston, it is in a part of the state referred to as The North Shore. North Salem is a close-knit New England town that few people leave. While such camaraderie can be wonderful, especially in times of need, it also means everyone knows each other’s business, and squabbles that pop up in high school sometimes continue for years.
Despite the occasional gossip and minor squabbles, North Salem is a wonderful place. I hope you come to love the town and its citizens as much as I do.
Happy Reading.
Christina
Chapter 1
Mia Troy took the off ramp to Longmeadow Road toward North Salem and tapped her hand against her thigh in time to the music playing on the rental car’s speakers. She was glad to be leaving the city behind. So far no snags had affected her low-key mini vacation. She’d managed to leave her Beverly Hills home and board a plane in Los Angeles without an entourage of paparazzi in tow. Once in Boston, she got through Logan International Airport and to her rental car unnoticed, thanks to a little luck and a disguise. With a Boston Red Sox hat covering her auburn hair, a pair of well-worn capris, flip flops, and a Harvard T-shirt, she looked like any other traveler returning home. And to reinforce the look she’d skipped the makeup.
As she passed through the airport not a single person showed any sign of recognition, which said a lot because reporters and photographers from several magazines lurked inside the terminal. By chance she’d picked the same day Black, a popular boy band, arrived in town. Yet even with the heavy media presence not a single photographer swung a camera her way.
Turning up the radio, she allowed herself to enjoy the breeze and scenery as any leftover tension eased from her body. Relaxing and enjoying herself were the only two things she planned to do for the next few weeks. Over the past six months she’d worked nonstop on her latest film—her first suspense thriller. She’d loved the challenge of something new, but the director had been impossible and the material emotionally draining. With a solid month off before filming started on her next movie, she wanted time to recharge. A trip back to her home state of Massachusetts fit the bill, as did the small town of North Salem.
She’d first heard of the town after her friend’s brother provided aid following a hurricane. Later, during a visit with Sara, she heard more about the picturesque New England town located on the North Shore about forty minutes from Boston. Since her first day of filming for her new movie would be in Boston, North Salem seemed like an ideal spot for her mini vacation.
“In one mile turn right onto Fender Drive,” the GPS on the dashboard ordered.
Following the GPS directions, Mia pulled onto a narrow two-lane road. Historic homes lined both sides of the street, a vivid reminder of centuries gone by. Halfway down the road a welcome sign stood informing visitors that the town of North Salem had been founded in 1680. Alongside the sign stood a rock pillar with two arrows engraved into it. The topmost arrow pointed straight along with the words Town Center, and a few inches under it another one pointed to the left with the words Schools.
“Continue on this road for another three miles,” the GPS dictated as she passed through the stop sign.
Satisfied with making it this far, Mia turned off the GPS. North Salem couldn’t be that big. Even without the detailed step-by-step directions, she’d find The Victorian Rose, the bed and breakfast where she had reservations.
Shortly after passing a large hardware store, she pulled into the driveway of The Victorian Rose. From the outside, the well maintained Queen Anne style home looked just as it did on the website. Painted a dark cherry red with white trim, it looked as if it had been built yesterday rather than over a hundred years ago. Only one other car was parked in the parking lot behind the house, but a No Vacancy sign hung out front.
A ringing bell announced her entrance into the main foyer. On either side of her were tastefully decorated rooms, and in front of her a wide gleaming staircase led to the upper floors. She saw no one around and, unlike a hotel, there was no check-in desk. Should she go in search of someone? Although open to guests, the home reminded her too much of a private residence to wander around, but then again what if no one heard the bell?
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” A petite woman, with red hair sprinkled with silver, entered from the far end of the dining room.
“I just walked in. You must be Mrs. O’Brien. You look just like Charlie.” Mia smiled and extended her hand.
“Please call me Maureen. You know my daughter?”
“We’ve met. Her husband’s sister, Sara, and I are good friends.”
Maureen’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. Judging by the woman’s expression, she didn’t recognize her.
“Mia Troy,” she explained. “I have a reservation for a month. My assistant booked it under Amelia Troy.” She’d told her assistant to book the room under her given first name, something she often did to keep her identity a secret even if only for a short time. No one aside from her family and closest friends knew that her legal name was Amelia and that Mia, her stage name, was actually a nickname her grandmother had given her as a toddler.
Recognition dawned on the older woman’s face. “I wondered when you’d arrive. I expected you earlier today. Please follow me and we can get you all settled.” The woman led her to a small office tucked away near the back of the house.
“I can take care of this for you, Ma. If you don’t leave soon you’ll be late.”
At the sound of the deep timbered voice, Mia turned. This had to be Sean O’Brien. He fit the description Charlie gave her to a T. Standing several inches over six feet and muscular with short dirty blond hair and intense green eyes, he looked like he belonged on a football field rather than inside a bed and breakfast.
“Are you sure?” Maureen asked.
Sean gave a slight nod. “Tonight’s the one night you go out, and I don’t want to hear it from Ray because his bridge partner was late.” Without waiting for a reply he walked in, all but swallowing up the space in the room, and plucked the paperwork from his mom’s hands.
Since Sean didn’t strike her as the type to care what someone said to him, she guessed he was more concerned with his mom taking some time for herself.
“I’ll see you in the morning then, Mia. I start serving breakfast at six thirty.” Maureen disappeared with no further argument.
“If you could just fill these out, I’ll show up upstairs. Ma put you in the Longfellow room. Do you need help with your bags?”
As she accepted the papers her hand brushed against his, and an electric tingle shot up her arm. Instantly she met his gaze, curious as to whether or not he sensed it. If he had, he showed no signs. His face remained a stoic mask his full lips neither smiling or frowning. “That would be great. I have two in the car.”
She filled out the paperwork and waited for Sean to ask for an autograph or a picture. Nine out of ten times, when someone recognized who she was, they asked. Not that it bothered her too much; after all, it went with the territory. Yet, sometimes it’d be nice if people realized she was just a person like them. To her surprise, the request never came. In fact when she looked up again to hand him the papers, he was looking at the calendar on the computer screen.
“All set,” she said, as she held out the papers.
So this was who had booked a room for a month straight. He should’ve known it was not an ordinary guest. Not that he was complaining. Every room in the bed and breakfast was booked for the next two months. Thanks to his sister’s marriage, The Victorian Rose had a steady stream of guests. Rarely did a weekend go by with a single empty room, which was great for business. In fact, he’d started to consider expanding. The grand house next door remained for sale. While it needed some cosmetic work, the structure appeared sound.
Sean
He had nothing to base his opinion on, but something told him Mia would fall into the first group. Maybe it was her appearance. While there was no denying she was beautiful, he never would’ve guessed she was Mia Troy, the world famous movie actress. Her outfit reminded him of something his sister or Jessica Quinn, the manager of the hardware store in town, would wear. She looked nothing like the glamorous celebrity on the cover of magazines every month.
“If you give me the keys to your car, I’ll show you to your room and then get your bags.”
Mia readjusted her hat. “Why don’t we go outside first. I’ll help you. I left a few other things in there besides my bags that I want to grab.”
Never argue with a paying guest; that was his motto. Maybe that was why he left much of the customer service stuff to his mom while he kept things running smoothly from the background. He just didn’t have the temperament to put up with their demands.
“Fine with me.” Sean grabbed the keys to the Longfellow room from the key box in the desk drawer and held them out. “Here’s your room key and a key to the front door. Ma locks the front door at eight o’clock every night.”
She flashed him a smile as she accepted the keys, then stepped back into the hallway.
Sean followed her outside to the dark green Mercedes convertible in the parking lot, surprised by the woman. While the convertible wasn’t your run-of-the-mill average car, it also wasn’t one that would draw a lot of attention around town. The last television celebrity that had stayed with them had arrived in a brand-new, bright yellow Italian sports car that screamed “look at me” and had driven it around town with the music blaring.
“Thanks for the help. My bags are heavy, especially that one.” Mia pointed to one of the suitcases in the trunk. “I tend to over-pack.”
“Not a problem,” he answered as he pulled out the first of the matching suitcases.
Mia disappeared inside the car and then reemerged with a large leather shoulder bag. “Any suggestions on things to do while I’m here?” She slammed the door closed and started walking away from the car.
“A lot of people like to visit Salem when they come. Others go to Boston. Ma put together a binder of things to do and places to visit. There should be one in your room. If not, let me know; she keeps extras in the office.” He followed her back toward the entrance.
“I might put off Boston for now, but Salem will be a definite stop. The last time I visited I was about nine. I remember visiting the witch museum.” She started up the main staircase and his eyes traveled up her long legs with pure male appreciation.
Other than the fact she starred in movies, he knew next to nothing about her. Once he’d made a quick assessment of her legs, he locked his eyes on the back of her head. “Family vacation?” Maybe it was because he’d lived his whole life in Massachusetts, but he couldn’t imagine taking a family trip to his tiny corner of the world.
“More like a day trip during school vacation. I lived in Massachusetts until I was ten. During every school vacation my mom took us on day trips to places like Boston and Salem. Once or twice we went down to Mystic, Connecticut. Another time we went up to Portland, Maine.”
Sean opened the door to her room, then took a step back and allowed her to enter first. “Where would you like these?” He nodded down to the suitcases he still carried.
“The bed is fine, thanks.”
After placing the bags on the bed, he stepped back into the hall. “If you need anything, just let one of us know. Like Ma said, she starts serving breakfast at six thirty in the dining room. And she makes sure there are snacks in there throughout the day. If you want coffee or tea, feel free to stop in the kitchen.”
“Great. Thanks.”
With their newest guest settled, Sean returned to the office. With his mom gone for the next several hours, he needed to keep himself available in case one of the guests required help.
Since his mom started meeting her friends once a week, he’d gotten in the habit of working in the downstairs office. Most of the time he used the time to handle bills or place orders. On the rare occasion when no pressing office work required his attention, he’d work on his thesis. He’d submitted it for review last month. If all went well, he’d receive his master’s degree by the end of next month, although no one outside the university knew that.
He’d started work on his bachelor’s degree twelve years earlier, but with a full time job he’d only been able to take a few courses a semester. In fact, a few times he’d only squeezed in one course at a time.
It hadn’t been his original intention to go on once he obtained his bachelor’s degree. After all, it wasn’t like he’d ever use it. After a semester away from course work, however, he’d found he’d missed it, so he applied and was accepted into a master’s program at MIT.
Before he opened the file containing this month’s expenses, he logged into the bed and breakfast’s email account. Some days they received only one or two messages, while other days they received over a dozen inquiries. Today five messages popped up. Starting with the first one, he worked his way down the list, able to often cut and paste a prepared response to most of them.
When he hit the last one, the subject line grabbed his attention. Unlike the others that said something like “booking a room” or “thank you for a great stay,” this one read “hello Sean.” He never received personal emails on this account. He kept a separate email account, which he used for friends and classmates.
For a moment he considered deleting the message. More than likely it was a spam message or some other kind of phishing email. If he opened it, he would probably find a message telling him he’d won a million dollars; all he needed to do was transfer a hundred dollars to some account in Africa. Both his personal email and The Victorian Rose’s email got those messages from time to time, despite the filters he’d set up.
Prepared to hit the tiny trash can icon next to the message, he moved the cursor toward it, but at the last minute changed his mind. Just to be on the safe side, he double clicked it.
He scanned the brief message once and then again, unable to accept the words. It had to be a mistake. The guy hadn’t contacted him in eighteen years. Pulling his eyes away from the screen, he focused on the picture on the wall, a photo of the town common at sunset. This email had to be some kind of joke from one of his buddies. A few of them had a sick sense of humor and would find something like this humorous.
He dropped his gaze back to the screen. As he read the message again, his temper inched a little farther toward the ceiling and his fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Excuse me do you—” a female voice started from the doorway but came to an abrupt halt.
Slowly he registered the voice nearby, but it sounded far away.
“Are you okay?”
She sounded a little closer this time. Or maybe it just seemed closer, he wasn’t sure. Forcing his eyes to leave the screen and the message there, he turned and saw Mia in the doorway, concern on her face.
“Can I help you?” With his attention distracted from the email, his brain registered the pain in his gritted teeth.
“It can wait until later,” Mia answered as she took another step into the office. “Are you okay? You look upset.”
He paused, surprised by her question. Other than his mother and sister, no one ever inquired about his well-being. If others never asked, why would their newest guest? “I’m fine. Do you need something?”
The needs of the guests came first. He’d deal with this email later.
Mia stopped next to the desk, and rested her fingertips on the top, her pink nail polish extra bright next to the dark wood. “You don’t look fine. You’re white as a sheet. You look as if you saw a ghost.”
Not saw, heard from. Sean forced his shoulders to relax and unclenched his fists. “I got a message from someone I didn’t expect. It’s nothing.”
He watched Mia’s eyes move as she looked at him. With her baseball hat gone, he could clearly see that they were not plain brown but rather the color of whiskey with tiny specs of gold, and at the moment they seemed to be studying him as if she could see into his soul. “Is something wrong with your room?” He met her gaze and waited.
“The room is perfect. I hoped you could recommend a place for dinner.”
“Sure. Masterson’s has American food—things like chicken and steak. It’s on the other side of town near the schools. If you want Italian food, Tuscany is good. It’s down by the river. There’s also The Jade Orient. They serve both Japanese and Chinese food. They’re next door to Quinn’s Hardware.” The answers rolled off his tongue without any thought required.
Mia nodded. “Thanks.”
When she left, he swung his eyes back to the message that remained unchanged on the screen, the signature at the bottom taunting him. The man had some massive balls to think he could reach out like this now. After eighteen years, his father was the last person he wanted to reconnect with. He prepared to delete the message but then changed his mind and typed out a short message that made his feelings crystal clear.
