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

Taylor smiled for the first time in days. “I’d like that. We’ve just begun working on the house and I’d like to show you the plans for the restoration.”

“That’s a bet. I’ll contact you before I come. Now hang up so I can call my friend.”

Taylor ended the call and pressed his head against a mound of pillows under his back and shoulders. His conversation with Viola had left him shaken. He could not imagine a young woman becoming so intimidated that she feared telling her parents that her husband had made her a virtual prisoner in her own home.

It was like a rerun with Sonja and Dom. He’d asked the caretaker to stay away from Sonja. However, it was obvious Dom had misconstrued it as a threat, not a request. Taylor hadn’t said anything to Sonja once he’d noticed Dom lingering outside the library waiting for her to open the door. It wasn’t until he spied them embracing that he began to wonder if it wasn’t the first time Sonja and Dom had been together whenever the door was closed. He sucked in a lungful of air and held it for several seconds before he exhaled an audible sigh. Viola had asked him to wait and he would.

Sonja was sitting on a rocker on the porch, enjoying her second cup of coffee, when her cell phone rang. Taylor had left several voice mail messages asking her to call him. She wasn’t ready to listen to anything he had to say. And she was going through her own self-examination once she realized she’d waited almost ten years to become involved with a man who had the same personality trait as the one she’d married: distrust.

The phone continued to ring and when she reached over to silence it she saw the name and number on the screen. The caller wasn’t Taylor.

“Hi, Viola.”

“How are you doing?”

Sonja smiled. “I’m better.”

“Good. I’m calling to let you know I spoke to my brother. I don’t want you to bite my head off, but I had to tell him everything you’d gone through with your ex-husband.”

Sonja closed her eyes. “It’s okay, Viola. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does matter because my brother is in love with you. I’m not going to interfere any more, but I want you to text him that you’re okay. Will you please do that for me?”

“Yes, Viola.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll text him.” Sonja stared at the calm surface of the lake. “I love Taylor.”

“You love Taylor, and he loves you. As two mature adults you should be able to work through your differences because I’ve always wanted a sister.”

Sonja shook her head, smiling. “What you want is a sister-in-law.”

“That, too,” Viola drawled. “Since graduating culinary school, I’ve always wanted to run my own kitchen and prepare a wedding banquet. That definitely can become a reality if you marry my brother at Bainbridge House.”

Sonja wanted to tell her friend that wasn’t going to happen. Not when the man she had fallen for did not trust her to be a faithful wife. “I’m going to text Taylor to let him know I’m okay,” she said instead.

“I’m not going to ask where you are, because if Taylor asks me I don’t want to lie to him. When are you going back?”

“Probably in a couple of days. Originally I’d planned to spend the weekend here, but when I got up this morning I knew I needed more time to get my head together.” What she didn’t tell her friend was that she had to decide whether to move out of the condo, lease a car in her name and find a rental within the vicinity of Bainbridge House or stay where she was. She had no intention of living with Taylor after their breakup.

“Good. I’ll call you again in a couple of days.”

“Okay, Viola.” Sonja ended the call and sent a text to Taylor.

Viola: I’m okay. Need some time to myself. Will be in touch.

She did not have to wait for his reply.

Taylor: Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if or when you decide to come back.

If or when. The three words were branded into her head. Had he believed she would walk away from her work? That she was so unprofessional that she would abandon a project she’d sought since becoming an architectural historian? Bainbridge House wasn’t just a structure some celebrity had erected because they were obsessed with all things French. Not only was it listed on National Register of Historic Places, it was originally commissioned in 1803 by a French nobleman who had fled to France during the Haitian Revolution as a gift to his new bride. And it wasn’t until 1883 that Charles Bainbridge spotted the château and offered to purchase it from the then-impoverished owners who were hard-pressed to make the necessary repairs to the mansion. The Bainbridge House had an illustrious history, and Sonja wanted her name included in the restoration narrative once she listed it on her résumé. And she would follow Taylor’s advice and take the time needed to sort out the next phase of her life.

Sonja was still at the lake house when her parents returned two weeks later, and she told them she was on holiday and needed a place to stay because she’d been working nonstop on the project. She knew her mother didn’t believe her when she motioned with her head that they should go outside where James Martin couldn’t overhear their conversation.

Rather than sit, she suggested they walk. Then Sonja told her mother everything from the time she’d gone out with Hugh for the first time, what he’d accused her of and why she’d had to plan her escape. She felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart when she saw Maria cry.

“Why didn’t you say something, chica?”

Sonja bit her lip in attempt not to lose her composure. It had been a long time since her mother had called her little girl, and in that instant