54

“Well, Harper dear, that sounds just wonderful,” Mrs. Penhearst said. “It seems as though your dream job is yours for the taking.”

“Mmm, hmm.” Harper nodded as she yanked the out-of-season floral mix of dried hydrangea, tulips, daisies, and lavender from the wide mouth vase sitting on the end table. Placing the hydrangea in first, she pushed and poked the balance of the flowers into a bubble of color and cheer completely counter to the uneasy fear stretching through every fiber of her being. With a soft pat around the edges, she slid the flower arrangement back in place. Shifting her focus to the thick fireplace mantel, she lifted the mix of photos and paintings off the smooth surface and began to adjust them in new groupings.

“Harper, please sit, before you decide my wallpaper needs stripped.”

Harper pressed out a sigh. “Sorry. I can’t seem to settle my thoughts. Rearranging and redesigning help me focus.” Sitting on the edge of the chair, she lifted her gaze to her mentor. “My poor mother’s library, guest bedroom, and kitchen have been completely reshuffled since Marco came to town. I’ve developed four different concepts for the hotel, complete with mood boards, swatch, and material options. For one I built out a three-D model. But I can’t decide what to present.”

“And that’s the only reason you’re unsettled?”

“I present to Signor Aquino in two days. I haven’t seen him since I lived in Italy. I didn’t leave the best impression. I was rather immature.”

“Yes, dear, well, you were barely twenty.”

“He’s kind. I’m sure he’ll take that into consideration.”

“But…”

“What if I get the job? How will I know it’s because of my talent? Because of what I’ve designed and not because Marco still professes to love me?”

“First, my dear, you’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever met. And that includes the hordes of gifted students I had at CCAD. You see what can be and you make it so. Even the best of artists struggle to bring their vision into three dimensions, but you do. Why Signor Aquino selects you isn’t the question. He will choose you because you are the best choice.”

With cloudy vision, Harper squeezed Mrs. Penhearst’s hand. Why did this woman always believe in her? Even when she made the mistake, Mrs. Penhearst never wavered in her belief.

“Now we’ve settled that, let’s talk about what’s really bothering you.”

“Marco…”

“He claims to still love you. How do you feel about him?”

“I’ll always love Marco. He was my first love. The part of me that’s nineteen will probably be in love with him until the day I die.”

“And how do you feel about my nephew?”

Her cloudy vision softened with pink edges. How did she feel about Bennett Langston?

She was falling in love with him.

How did Bennett Langston feel about her?

If she could answer that question without three hundred additional questions, she might have been able to pass through a room without rearranging every surface, shelf, and nook in the last three days.

“Ben’s one of the kindest, most thoughtful men I’ve ever met.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The front door opened and pulled Harper’s gaze.

“Lulu,” Isabel said from the front hall. “I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.” The lean physical therapist scrubbed her hands against each other as she padded into the living room. “Harper, it’s so good to see you. Are you staying for dinner?” She glanced toward the hall. “Hey, Ben, do you need any help with the pizzas?”

Flipping toward the hallway, Harper saw Ben’s wide shoulder. What had he heard?

“Hey, Harper.” Ben’s voice was a low, deep whisper. “We have plenty if you would like to join us.”

Her whole body screamed, Yes! but she shook her head. “My mom and Tessa have been deep in wedding planning today. I’m sure my brother needs rescuing. Thank you though. Another time?”

He nodded and turned toward the kitchen. Isabel followed, asking if they might be able to watch the hockey game while they ate.

“Are you sure you can’t stay, my dear?” Mrs. Penhearst’s soft lilt pulled at Harper.

“I’m sure. Enjoy your family and Isabel.”

“You’re my family, too. You know that, don’t you?”

The tears she had been fighting since she first saw Marco spilled over her cheeks as she nodded. “I love you, Mrs. Penhearst.”

“Harper, how many times have I told you to call me Lulu?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll always be Mrs. Penhearst. I have too much respect for you to call you anything else.”

“Well, if you have so much respect for me don’t leave without answering my question. What are your feelings for Bennett?”

She leaned forward and kissed Mrs. Penhearst’s cheek. “Bigger than anything I can really understand.”