Always

ALWAYS

by Brandy Moss

Copyright 2013 Brandy Moss

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Devin –

whose imagination, compassion,

and capacity for love are greater than anyone I’ve ever known.

Chapter 1

Marcus, let’s go. Staff meeting starts in five.

Amanda Montgomery rounded the corner on her way to the conference room. She was due to lead a brainstorming session with the business writers of the Times Picayune, New Orleans’ largest daily newspaper. Matt Freeman, the Business Editor, was out and it fell on Amanda to run this week’s meeting.

She could hear the voices before she reached the room. These meetings were more like a gathering of friends than co-workers. She smiled to herself as she entered what they affectionately referred to as the war room. The twenty by ten room, located in the back corner of the newsroom was shared by all departments on the floor. A well-used rectangular table stood in the middle of the room. Its luster had departed long ago and the surface was now graced with numerous water rings from countless drinks and countless people. Surrounding it were the ugliest chairs known to man. They were old-fashioned, scoop bottom rolling chairs covered with day glow orange fabric. Hideous, but comfortable. And when you spent hours at a time hacking away at story ideas, comfort was the only thing that counted.

Moving confidently past the wall of windows on the far side, she took her place at the head of the table. She noticed Marcus slip into the last orange chair as she set down her file of story ideas along with the file she’d retrieved from Matt’s desk earlier that morning.

Morning everyone. Her greeting was answered with the usual smiles and returned greetings. She turned to the credenza behind her and reached for a white Styrofoam cup. One elegantly manicured hand reached out to press the top of the portable coffee thermos, releasing a puff of steam and the aromatic liquid that she couldn’t function without.

Seating herself at the table she took in the faces of her co-workers. A smile tugged at her lips and she couldn’t help feeling like they were a family of sorts. There wasn’t a person in the room who hadn’t been bailed out of a rough spot, personal or professional, by someone in the room. Amanda included.

The meeting began with progress reports on stories in the works and progressed to new ideas. A half hour later, the dry erase board was full of color-coded ideas and facts for upcoming issues of the newspaper.

Ok, Barbara, how are we doing for features? Amanda turned her attention to the only other woman in the room.

Barbara Deloney was a thirty-eight-year-old mother of two who’d gotten a late start in the news business. She’d completed college at night school after her kids were born and then had to wait for them to start school before launching her own career. She was in great shape and looked much younger than her years, allowing her to pry information from the most unwilling of sources. She was also very intelligent, quick-witted and had an uncanny ability to remember things in startling detail without the aid of a tape recorder or notepad. A trait she shared with Amanda.

Well, Barbara began but paused to sip from her coffee mug. There’s the uptown woman who won the lottery a year ago. Since then she’s started a successful catering business. She’s almost doubled her million in only a year. Now she only caters to the most exclusive of clients.

Glancing down, she flipped a page on her note pad. She’s handled events for the Mayor, the District Attorney, half the public figures in the city, not to mention last year’s Endymion Ball.

That’s a good idea, Barb. Marcus chimed in. Finally someone who didn’t give away, or completely blow all their winnings. A friend of mine knows her. I’ll get you her home number.

Thanks. She shuffled some more papers searching for something specific. Oh! How could I forget? Amanda, Matt mentioned that he had an idea for a killer feature. He was sketchy on the details as usual. She rolled her eyes at their boss’ behavior. The man horded ideas like an old lady horded nickels. He didn’t happen to be any more forthcoming with you before he left, did he?

Amanda gave her friend a dazzling smile. As a matter of fact he did – sort of. She felt a rush of excitement as she reached for the folder she’d commandeered from Matt. Any time he kept a secret from the staff it was usually a good one.

She dangled the folder for all to see. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to review any of this. I guess we’ll find out together.

She put the folder on the table, opened it, and forgot to breathe. The staff watched as the color drained from her face. There, on a torn out cover of Newsweek was a face she’d hoped never to see again. A face that she’d convinced herself didn’t exist. Staring up from the page with sparkling amber eyes and dusty blonde hair was Preston Westbrook. And he seemed to be smiling right at her.

What’s wrong? Barbara’s concerned voice snapped her out of her stunned silence. She couldn’t let her staff see her lose it and she was afraid that was exactly what was about to happen.

She slapped the folder closed with more force than was necessary and abruptly pushed her chair away from the table.

If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make. She hurried towards her office, leaving behind six bewildered staff writers.

After closing her office door she crossed the small room on shaky legs to sit behind her desk. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then another. When that didn’t work, she took three more deep, supposedly calming breaths, and then slowly opened the file, hoping she’d been wrong. Hoping her mind was playing tricks on her.

No such luck.

The issue of Newsweek was dated June, so she assumed the photo was fairly recent. Preston was even more handsome than he’d been eleven years earlier. He had the same flaxen hair, only it was longer on top and fell forward across his forehead. The stubborn set of his jaw was still there, as well as the same smoldering amber eyes that twinkled for the camera.

Amanda closed her eyes momentarily and willed her heart to slow down before she panicked. She could do this. She could be objective. She opened her eyes and forged through the papers and clippings that Matt had collected. As she flipped through the information, the journalist in her took over and she knew that he would make a wonderful feature. Damn!

He’d taken over his father’s company at twenty-nine and doubled its worth in six years. The multi-million dollar corporation was founded in New Orleans and its devilishly handsome CEO was a true New Orleanian, born and raised. She knew that Westbrook Industries had amassed a fortune and that it was all Preston’s doing.

She’d grown up with Preston and his brother, Brad. She, her longtime friend Kelly, and Brad had been inseparable from second grade until they went their separate ways for college. Although she was only seven at the time and Preston thirteen, they’d forged and unlikely friendship. He was her ideal and she’d had a crush on him ever since she could remember. During her senior year in high school that crush turned into something more and that was the beginning of the end.

Kelly and Brad were married after college and she was still an active part of their life. However, she’d convinced herself that Preston didn’t exist. Everyone knew they’d parted on bad terms, but no one knew the details.

Not willing to bring that particular memory to the surface, she pulled her mind back to the present. The file contained picture after picture. In each one, he was with some gorgeous model or movie star. Never the same woman twice. Either he couldn’t keep a woman, or he went through them like water. She silently hoped they’d all dumped him. God! Who knows how many women he’s slept with? No, no no! Don’t think about that. Why should I care? I sure don’t want him anymore.

She couldn’t ignore the little voice in her head telling her that he never loved her. She didn’t want to believe it. But how could she not? He’d left her without so much as a good bye. The bastard snuck out in the middle of the night and left her a note. A note! Her hands fisted, crumpling the picture in her left hand. Focus, Mandy. Just go through the rest of this info and assign the story to someone else.

Matt’s notes said that an interview was already scheduled to take place in Boston the following weekend. Apparently, Preston was there overseeing the restructuring of a recently acquired electronics company.

She pushed herself from her seat and moved to pace in front of her desk. Pacing, she found, helped her sort things out. Who could she get to write the story? Barbara was otherwise engaged and she couldn’t be missed for more than a day. Marcus, Charles and Anthony were all assigned to other events and Jason and Nathan were too green for an assignment of this magnitude.

That left only her. No. She would not willingly subject herself to him again. Not even in a professional sense. She flopped into one of her guest chairs and dropped her head into her hands. What am I going to do? she asked no one.

Do about what?

Amanda stood quickly, tugging at the hem of her jacket in an effort to look composed. Barbara stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow. She wasn’t buying it.

Amanda, are you alright? Her concern showed on her face and Amanda felt slightly guilty for trying to deceive her friend.

Yes, I’m fine, she lied with a cool confidence she didn’t feel. Stalking over to the file cabinet, she quickly stashed the file and locked the drawer.

You can’t fool me, kid. I’m your friend outside these walls. Now what’s going on? Everyone in that conference room is worried about you.

That obvious, huh?

You turned white as a ghost. I thought you were going to pass out. Then you rushed out like someone set fire to your chair. Yes, I’d say it was quite obvious that something in that file didn’t agree with you. She placed a comforting hand on Amanda’s shoulder. Want to tell me what it was?

Amanda’s spirits plummeted even further. How was she going to explain all of this to the staff? An explanation was definitely necessary, but she couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make her look like an idiot. No matter what she told them there would be questions. They were all reporters. It was their nature to ask questions. She had no intention of being interrogated.

Barb, can you tell them something? she asked, deliberately not answering the question. I need to go talk to Matt.

I thought he was in Baton Rouge.

He’s due at work tomorrow. He’s probably home by now.

Sure thing, darlin’. I’ll handle it. Do you plan on telling me what all this is about?

No. Her tone left no room for further discussion. Barbara nodded and left.

After checking in with the guard, Amanda drove through the security gates of Matt’s apartment building on St. Charles Avenue. She parked and headed for the elevators. Matt lived alone on the sixteenth floor, his wife having died three years earlier. She rang the buzzer and waited for him to come to the door. He wasn’t expecting her, but she felt sure that he’d know it was her. The security guard was obligated to announce any visitors, however, since Matt put her on his permanent guest list, she didn’t need approval to enter the premises.

It was almost noon and she’d figured he would be awake. His car was downstairs, so she knew he was home. A moment before she raised her hand to buzz again, the door swung open and there stood Matt, all six feet two inches of him. His grayish hair was tousled and he wore a large navy blue terrycloth robe. His slightly unfocused eyes told her that she had in fact disturbed his slumber. Too bad.

When his eyes finally focused on her and she was reasonably sure he knew who she was, she pushed passed him and entered the apartment without an invitation. We need to talk.

Matt followed Amanda to the kitchen. He knew from experience that there was no putting her off when she was angry. And there was no denying she was angry. She wouldn’t leave until she’d said whatever it was she came to say. In the interest of getting back to bed as soon as possible, he sat down at the table, ready to cooperate.

He watched her as she expertly moved through his kitchen, turning on the single serving coffeemaker and setting a cup to brew. This couldn’t be good. She obviously wanted him alert for whatever had her in a snit. Sighing lightly, he rubbed his hands over his face and through his thinning hair.

She stood with her back to him, waiting for the coffee to finish. Although she was dressed for work in a black business suit that unintentionally showed off her figure, her unusually long auburn hair neatly piled atop her head, she looked right at home. They’d spent many mornings brainstorming in his kitchen, and she knew it as if it were her own.

She was quite a catch, he thought. It was a pity that she didn’t date. It wasn’t for lack of offers. His own son had chewed his ear off about her after meeting Amanda only once. But as with every other would be suitor, she’d turned him down. He couldn’t help but worry sometimes. She’d been like a daughter to him since the day she started at the paper as a staff writer. He saw her drive and her ambition and he’d taken her under his wing. He taught her things about the newspaper business that couldn’t be learned in a classroom.

She reached into the cabinet over her head and pulled out a mug. Finished with the task at hand, she turned from the coffeemaker and paused a moment to glare at him. He wasn’t but half awake and already he’d pissed her off. Oh well, he mentally shrugged. It would make for an interesting day.

Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t come here for fatherly advice. He quickly schooled his features into detached interest before she continued.

I came here on business. She set his coffee before him with a loud thud.

He watched over the rim of his mug as her eyebrows drew together. She was weighing options in that complicated brain of hers. The only thing missing was her pacing to and fro.

Ok, Mandy. What is it?

Amanda was startled at his use of her old nick name. No one had called her that in years. When she started college she’d stopped using any shortened version of her name. It was her first step in recreating herself and forgetting about everything that happened during her senior year at St. Mary’s. She was managing quite well. Until today. She decided to start out slowly and only give information as needed.

I read your file on Preston Westbrook. She tried to keep her voice calm and even, but she faltered slightly just before she said Preston’s name. She winced. No way Matt didn’t notice that. It’s what he did. He was nothing if not the most observant man she’d ever met. She watched as her little slip brought Matt into a state of alertness that no cup of coffee could ever do.

He gave her his full attention, but said nothing. It was a technique he’d taught her years ago. Don’t say anything and the other person will be compelled to continue speaking to fill the silence. She recognized the ploy for what it was. It worked anyway.

Who’s going to do the story? Don’t say me! Please not me!

I thought you should do it. You need a major feature like this under your belt. When I leave it will give you more credibility as editor.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was the answer she’d expected, but not the one she wanted to hear. She willed her lungs to work and hoped Matt wouldn’t notice her labored breathing.

Why don’t you want to do it? Silence. Talk to me, Mandy. What’s the problem?

I just can’t that’s all.

Not good enough. I want the truth.

She looked him in the eye. I just can’t see him again. She sounded like a little girl begging and she hated herself for it.

Amanda, I know you’ve had some dealings with him in the past. I know you grew up with his brother and that your best friend is now married to Brad Westbrook. No, don’t look at me like that, he said when she shot him an accusing glare. "You’re the best person for the story. That’s all there is to it.