A New Foundation Rochelle Alers (read aloud .txt) 📖

didn’t know. It was not as if she wasn’t employed. The gallery owners paid her well, covered her health insurance and gave her a percentage of the final sale showings. If she did agree to assist Taylor Williamson with his restoration of Bainbridge House, it would have to be financially beneficial for her to leave the gallery.

“If you do accept it, you know you’ll have to quit your position at the gallery,” Nelson said.

“Before I make any decision I’ll have to weigh my options.”

Her options would include travel time, salary and benefits. Taylor had also mentioned he needed a one-and maybe even a two-year commitment from her. Yes, she thought. She had to weigh and examine all her options, because if she did assist in restoring Bainbridge House to its original magnificence, then she could add it to her résumé to secure similar commissions.

Sonja had to constantly remind herself that she wasn’t married, didn’t have children, and therefore she was free to come and go by her leave. She would celebrate her thirty-fifth birthday in November and decided it was time for her to map out what she wanted for the next decade. Living independently topped the list.

She finished her coffee, rinsed the mug and placed it on the top rack in the dishwasher. “I’m going to head out now because I have to meet someone at ten.” Sonja estimated it would take her less than fifteen minutes to walk to 207th Street.

She had taken Taylor’s recommendation to select footwear other than her favored ballet flats, which she wore to work, or running shoes when strolling around Inwood or Washington Heights. What she truly loved about living in Inwood was she could visit The Cloisters, a medieval-style museum devoted to medieval art and culture. She’d spend hours there viewing paintings and tapestries without having to travel to Europe.

Sonja pushed her sock-covered feet into a pair of well-worn leather boots, tied them and then slipped into a waist-length down-filled jacket. In keeping with the unpredictable fluctuating New York City weather, the unseasonably warm early spring temperatures had been replaced by a chill hovering just above freezing. After picking up her cross-body bag and camera case, she walked out of the apartment.

Taylor double-parked in front of the restaurant, drumming impatient fingers on the steering wheel while taking furtive glances in the rearview mirror for a passing police cruiser. Sonja had asked him to pick her up outside La Casa Del Mofongo when it probably would’ve been easier to park near her apartment building.

I’m not trying to hook you up with her—she’s currently not into dating. Viola’s pronouncement came rushing back in vivid clarity. Had she meant Sonja wasn’t dating anyone because she was already in a relationship? And was the man that had picked her up outside The Cellar her boyfriend? Had she wanted to avoid having to explain that she’d shared dinner with another man?

Although he’d found Sonja attractive he knew nothing would come from it even if she was unencumbered. She was his sister’s friend as well as a possible future employee, and Taylor did not believe in mixing business with pleasure. He’d witnessed firsthand how office romances imploded after a volatile breakup.

After he’d told his family that he would oversee the restoration project, it had taken Taylor five days to compose his letter of resignation. Viola was right when she’d reminded him that he’d recently been promoted—something he’d wanted for more than two years. Based on the recommendations of several of his college professors, he had been hired by a major Connecticut-based engineering and architectural company, and it had taken a number of large projects and five years before he was rewarded with a promotion and more responsibility.

He’d planned to stay on until the end of the month, and then reversed his decision. He sent a memo to the director of HR that he was leaving his position at the end of the workday and was utilizing more than three weeks of accrued vacation time to offset the mandated two-week resignation rule.

Taylor was now free to concentrate solely on his family’s property.

Patrick had emailed him, requesting estimates for restoring and updating the main house and outbuildings, stables, barn, gardens and orchards, bridle path, golf course, and vineyard. Taylor had emptied one trunk, and it had taken an hour of sorting through personal correspondence, bills of lading and other paperwork before locating revised blueprints and surveys. It was then he discovered that Charles Garland Bainbridge had spent ten million dollars in 1883 to build the castle, and once the property was fully restored it would be worth more than one hundred and fifty million. Taylor had replied to Patrick’s email with a promise to give him tentative numbers before the end of the month.

Patrick’s email was a reminder that he had to interview and hire employees to begin work on the main house. Time was not of the essence to restore the stables because Tariq had another two years to complete his graduate studies and fulfill his obligation as one of the vets at a Kentucky horse farm. Joaquin also had professional obligations that would not free him up for more than a year. Taylor had decided not to put any pressure on Viola to leave The Cellar to become executive chef for Bainbridge House, or for Patrick to oversee Bainbridge Cellars. If they decided not to come around, then he would hire an experienced chef and vintner.

It was 9:50 a.m. when Taylor spied Sonja, wearing sunglasses. Jeans, pullover sweater, boots and jacket had replaced the body-hugging ensemble and sexy heels she’d worn the night before. And with her approach he noticed her bare face and hair styled in a ponytail. Yesterday she was the sophisticate, and today she could pass for a college coed. He exited the vehicle and opened the passenger-side door.

“Good morning.”

Sonja smiled up at Taylor, who was towering over her. Without her four-inch heels, his height put her at disadvantage. She stood