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

in a too-sweet soft voice that a spoon or fork wasn’t in its proper place. After a while she’d come to resent the presence of the passive-aggressive woman who doted on her only son.

It was only after Sonja freed herself of the invisible shackles of her husband and mother-in-law that she had come to the realization that Hugh hated his controlling mother, but rather than confront her as a fortysomething-year-old adult, he’d transferred his resentment onto his wife. The day Sonja worked up the courage to put whatever she could carry in a bag and climb into the back seat of a taxi to take her to the nearest bus station was the moment she’d taken control of her life. She had boarded a bus from Boston to Burlington, Vermont, where she checked into a motel for the night. The next day she’d called her mother let her know she’d left her husband and asked her to take the ferry and pick her up. Within minutes of the ferry docking and her mother alighting from the car Sonja did something she rarely did. She cried. Somehow she’d worked up the nerve to free herself from a man who’d controlled every aspect of her life from morning to night. Her mother also cried when she saw her because Sonja was a former shadow of herself. She had lost weight she could ill afford to lose. It taken her nearly a month to plot her escape, and during that time she had been so stressed out that Hugh would uncover her plan that she found it hard to eat more than a few forkfuls of food at any given time. And if Hugh noticed her weight loss, he did not mention it because of his preference for waiflike models.

And that night, once she’d settled into the guest bedroom at her parents’ lakefront home, Sonja cried inconsolably. While the tears were cathartic, it would be a long time before she’d completely rid herself of the man. In her naïveté she had replaced her father with Hugh. He’d initially been her protector, but whenever she sought to exercise a modicum of independence he’d quickly quash it. Sonja had overlooked it until it was apparent he did not want to be challenged but obeyed, without her questioning his motives. He’d referred to her as his “little wife,” and that was what she’d become because it was easier to acquiesce than argue with him.

Sonja shook her head as if to rid it of her past. It was now time for her to concentrate on the present and her future. When she awoke earlier that morning she’d found herself completely disoriented, and it had taken a full minute before she realized where she was. She knew she wasn’t in her regular bedroom because of the sunlight coming in through the windows. Her Inwood apartment had southern exposure, and the sun didn’t fill the space until the afternoon. She’d lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling waiting for the butterflies in her stomach to go away, because at that moment she was a butterfly emerging from the cocoon and becoming free—freer than she’d ever been in her life.

Sonja hadn’t realized it until now, but Taylor Williamson had become the hero in one of her romance novels. He unknowingly had offered her something she wasn’t consciously aware that she needed—independence.

Once she knew Taylor had hired her, she’d called her mother to let her about her new position and that she would have to take up residence in a hotel to be closer to the work site. Maria congratulated her, while reminding Sonja that she was entitled to every good thing coming her way because she’d worked for it. Sonja knew her mother was talking about overcoming a toxic marriage to return to college to complete the courses needed to become an architectural historian.

She smiled. It had taken twenty-four hours for Sonja to fall in love with her new home. All of the units were connected; however, fenced-in backyards provided privacy from her nearest neighbors. The second-story balcony was the perfect spot for her to sit and enjoy her morning coffee, while offering unrestricted panoramic views of a forested area in the distance. She was looking forward to witnessing the change of seasons. The master bathroom had a soaking tub, oversize shower stall with twin showerheads and a double vanity. This would be her personal retreat, where she could spend as much time as she wanted without someone knocking on the door to ask when she was coming out. Her uncle’s two-bedroom apartment had only one bathroom.

The kitchen was a cook’s dream—eye-level ovens with a warming drawer, microwave, double sinks, and a stovetop with six burners and a grill. The built-in refrigerator and freezer was large enough to store meat and perishables for months at a time.

The intercom buzzed, startling Sonja as she glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was minutes before six o’clock. Taylor had sent her a text indicating he would arrive at her house around six. Walking over to the wall, she tapped the button.

“Yes?”

“This is the gatehouse. There’s a Mr. Williamson here to see you.”

“Please let him in.”

She didn’t know why he’d asked to be announced when he had a remote device that would allow him access onto the property. Leaving the kitchen, she walked to the door and opened the inner one. Her pulse quickened when she saw Taylor get out of his vehicle and walk around to the rear. He removed a hand truck and loaded it with two steamer trunks. With wide eyes, she stared at the logo on the luxury beige and brown trunks. The monogram with quatrefoils, flowers and LV were recognizable as the Louis Vuitton brand. He balanced another carton on top of the trunks.

She opened the outer door and allowed Taylor to enter. The familiar fragrance of his cologne wafted to her nostrils as he moved past her. He’d exchanged his ubiquitous jeans, tees