Chapter Ten
Noah stretched and blinked against the intruding light of a new day. He turned his head toward the clock on Traci’s nightstand. It was almost seven. He glanced over at her still-sleeping form. He hated to leave, but he had things to do. All of his planning was coming together and he didn’t want to screw things up now. He had to stay on top of the progress. Anthony was going to meet him at his place at nine so that they could head out to Philly and get back to Brooklyn at a reasonable hour.
He quietly eased out of the bed, careful not to wake Traci while he dressed. Once he was finished, he stood over her sleeping form, debated about letting her know that he was leaving, then finally decided to send a text to her phone for her to find when she got up.
* * *
Anthony volunteered for the two-hour drive and the buddies took his SUV for the weekly road trip. “So how was the ballet?” Anthony asked with a note of amusement in his voice.
“It was really great.”
“I’m still trying to picture you at the ballet.”
Noah chuckled. “I know. Me too. But I was there.”
“Well, when you set your mind to impress a woman, you go all out. I’m pretty sure she was blown away by those seats that cost you a grand.”
“I think so. But Traci is too classy to speak on it that way.”
“But, man, if you’re trying to be all low-key, don’t you think buying ballet tickets for a thousand dollars would set off some warning lights? Where does she think you would get that kind of money working at a coffee shop?”
Noah glanced out of the passenger window. “Saved up,” he quipped.
“Yeah, right. Not the fact that you’re the CEO of the CoffeeMate franchise and could have bought the entire orchestra if you wanted. I’ve never known you to intentionally go out with a stupid woman and I’m pretty sure that Traci is far from it. She’s going to start asking questions and you’re either going to come clean or you’re going to lie.”
“I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“I say you tell her before she finds out some other way.”
“When I’m ready. I need to be sure. I’m not going down that road again, man.”
Anthony blew out a breath. “I hear you. Just don’t F-up if she really means anything to you.”
“She does,” he quietly admitted. “More than I thought she would.”
“Then, like I said, don’t F-up.” He made the turn onto the Pennsylvania freeway.
* * *
By the time they arrived on the south side of Philly, it was almost noon. Traffic was bad and the rainy mixture didn’t help.
Noah had gotten the building for a steal. It was an abandoned three-story brownstone that sat on the edge of commercial and residential space. What was also great was that it was totally accessible by public transportation and there was a small parking lot less than a block away.
They entered on the ground level that would host the café. The contractor had completed the entire first floor: hardwood floors, a horseshoe counter, and high ceilings with recessed lighting that gave the space the feel of a nightclub. There were banquettes that lined the walls and space in the center for tables. All that was left to do was bring in the furnishings and equipment.
“Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Fields.” Herman the foreman stepped out from the back room, wiping his face. “I was getting ready to call you.”
“Yeah, sorry, Herman. We ran into a bit of traffic.”
Herman peered out of the paneled window. “Hmm, getting bad. Well, let’s review so that you can get back on the road.”
As they moved from space to space on the first floor, they checked off items on the punch list and got the all clear. Then they went up to the second floor, taking the staircase behind the café. What Herman was able to do, according to Noah’s request, was to install a side door for direct access to the rooms upstairs that would be available from the outside.
The second level was for pure, intimate dining. Each table setting was designed with partitions for the ultimate in privacy. Chandeliers provided the lighting. Speakers had been strategically placed to pipe in soft music. Again it was all about ambience.
The top floor was a total entertainment space, complete with a full stage, lighting, a dynamic sound system, room for sitting and dancing, and, of course, a bar and small kitchen that would provide a house menu.
In total it would employ at least one hundred people, if not more, provide a venue for up-and-coming artists and established ones, as well as serving as a local hangout for the community. And it was discreet. The fact that it was a brownstone blended right in with the surrounding community and was part of the visual landscape rather than a sore thumb.
Herman turned to Noah and Anthony with a look of expectation in his eyes.
Noah stuck out his hand. “You’ve done a helluva job here, Herman. I knew I hired the right man.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jefferson.”
Noah took the punch list from Herman and gave it his final approval. His pulse raced. This was it. He’d finally done it. Now the planning for the grand opening had to be put in motion.
* * *
“You did it, man,” Anthony said as they drove back to New York. The rain was coming down harder now.
“Yeah.” Noah smiled. “Only wish I could have found something comparable in New York.”
“I know. Real estate in the Apple is crazy high. You got a good deal on this, and knowing you, this is going to be even more successful than the franchise.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And how is Traci going to fit into all of this?”
“When the time is right . . .”
“Where does she think you are every Sunday, visiting nursing homes or something?”
Noah’s brows drew together. He thought about the text he’d sent her and all the other bogus excuses he’d used for never being around on Sunday. She’d not pushed the subject. She’d asked him once or twice what he did on his day off and he tossed out something generic like “just relax,” “take some time for me,” or “nothing special.” He wanted to tell her who he really was and what he was doing, but there was that part of him, that damaged little boy that didn’t quite recover from rejection, from wanting to be a part of someone’s life, only to have it taken away time and again. And the one time, the one time when he let down his guard and gave someone a chance to show him what love was, she proved to him that what he’d felt and believed all along was true.
As much as he cared about Traci, wanted to love Traci, he found himself still unable to cross that invisible barrier. He would never allow himself to be that vulnerable to anyone ever again.
Anthony shot him a quick glance, knew he wouldn’t get an answer so he kept further comments on the subject to himself.
* * *
The pounding rain only added to Traci’s irritated mood. From her seat by the window she looked out on the darkened street pounded by the pouring rain. She’d awakened to find Noah gone. All he left behind was his scent on her pillows, a throb between her legs, and a text message: T, Had to head out. Didn’t want to wake you. Have a good one. N
She shouldn’t have been surprised; it was Sunday, after all, but that didn’t take away the sting or the disappointment. For some ridiculous reason she’d imagined that since they’d gone out on Saturday night, instead of Friday, and that he’d spent the night at her house, that this Sunday would be the day that he stayed.
She didn’t want to believe that Noah was doing something underhanded or seeing someone else, but at this point she wasn’t sure what to believe and maybe she should listen to Cara’s advice and just come right out and ask him. But her traumatic experiences of asking the most benign questions had silenced her, had successfully cut off her ability to speak about what was on her mind and in her heart, because to do so resulted in physical and verbal assaults. She’d had several years of freedom from the abuse, but the scars remained just below the surface.
Traci slightly pushed the sheer curtain aside to get a better look below. She needed to run to the corner store and pick up some flour, when suddenly her entire body heated and a flush of prickling dread rose like a rash along her arms and back.
Jason was outside, across the street, staring at her building. She blinked several times and looked again to be sure that she wasn’t imagining that the six-foot-plus man in the brown overcoat, which she remembered buying him for a Christmas gift in another lifetime, was pacing across the street, oblivious to the rain, and periodically looking up toward her window.
Her breathing hitched in her chest as if she’d been running. What was he doing here? How did he find her? She felt paralyzed. The old fear had taken hold and held her in place. What should she do? She dug her phone out of her pants pocket. Her hand shook as she began to tap in Noah’s number, but when she looked again out of the window, Jason was gone and all she got on the other end was Noah’s voice mail.
* * *
“He was really outside?” Cara said, tugging off her damp coat and hanging it on the coatrack. She took off her boots and walked barefoot into Traci’s living room.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes! You don’t think I know Jason when I see him?” she yelled.
“Okay, okay,” Cara said softly. “I’m sorry.” She went to the kitchen, got two glasses, and poured them each a glass of wine. She handed Traci her wine and they both sat down.
“Any idea how he found out where you live?”
Traci tucked her feet beneath her. She slowly shook her head. “Been wracking my brain for the past hour.”
“You think Loretta would have told him?”
Traci’s face tightened as she sipped and sipped her wine. Loretta Palmer was her mother and she never understood how Traci could have left a “good man” like Jason. He worked hard, took care of the home, had a nice car and a fat bank account, and he didn’t run around, she’d ranted when Traci told her that she was leaving him. It didn’t seem to matter to Loretta that Jason abused her daughter. “Sometimes a woman had to ‘make concessions’ to keep a good man,” she’d said. “If I had, maybe your no-good daddy would have stayed.” From that moment to this one Traci hadn’t spoken to her mother other than on the requisite holidays.
“It’s the only explanation,” Traci finally said. “After he saw me that day by the pier, he probably called her. And knowing how charming Jason could be, and how tone-deaf my mother is, she probably gave my address to him, thinking she was doing some kind of good.” She rolled her eyes in disgust.
Cara pushed out a breath. “Well, you can’t stay locked up in the house.”
“I know that,” she snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry . . . again.”
Cara held up her hand to dismiss the unnecessary apology.
“I’m not going to let him run me out of my house. Not again.”
“Well, for the time being, you’re staying with me. He’s not out there now. Pack a bag, get your school stuff, and we’ll go to my place.”
* * *
A little more than an hour later, Traci was settling into Cara’s guest room. When Noah called her as usual for their late-night chat, she never mentioned what had happened or that she was at Cara’s apartment and not her own. If he could have secrets, then so could she.