Unchained Hearts: Baxter Family Saga, #1

Prologue

AS SHE SAT IN THE CAR, she played with the letter, tapping it on her finger. The tinted window cast a sepia glow on the bright white stock paper. Her mother's handwriting startled her, especially since it had been two years since she was killed in a car accident. As she reread it, it was like squeezing her heart in a vise. There was no date. The tone was so cryptic. And then the second letter, the summons as she called it, announced that the car would pick her up on this date at this time.

Kyle Avery hated being summoned to do anything. She had worked damn hard to avoid being put in that position. But her mother speaking to her from the grave was the exception. The car drove down the expressway and took the downtown exit. The smooth ride nearly lulled her to sleep as the world just blurred by. Passing the Port of Miami, she saw where the latest cruise ship was about to set sail. Even over the sound of the engine, she could hear the horns people blew and the yells as they waved at their departing loved ones. She’d always wanted to go on a cruise, but being the head of a growing company left little time for such luxuries.

But isn't that the point of being the boss and calling your own shots? To go on luxurious vacations whenever you wanted to?

So they say, she thought with a smirk.

Kyle felt the car come to a smooth stop at the light and then it make a swift left turn. Sitting up straighter, she looked through the tinted window to see up the entrance to the ferry. This was how some of Miami’s ultra-rich got to their private island compounds.

The car drove up and then swung into a smooth reverse onto the platform before two sharp wraps against the side prompted it to stop. Her gaze followed the attendant who secured the gate before making his way to the front of the boat.

That was when an eerie thought seized her.

If it weren’t for her mother’s letters and the call from a woman with a soothing voice, she would have been warier of the fact that other than the initial query about her comfort, followed by his brief explanation of where they would be going, no more words were exchanged between her and the driver. Her mother’s tendency toward cryptic over caution was more a part of her being than she realized. 

The car gently rocked as the ferry moved past Star Island, toward another plot of land she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been on the water. It was well maintained with a wide two-story brick-colored house with multiple water-facing windows. The houses that flanked it were coral and while they looked smaller, they looked substantial.

The ride was only twenty minutes, but it seemed so much quicker since she was racking her brain trying to fill in the details between what she saw and the letter. 

They finally docked and the heavy metal gate automatically opened in front of them opened as the car slowly dipped and rolled forward. There were no hills in South Florida, but she could feel a distinct incline as the car slowed, traversed the plateau and made its way through spired wrought iron gates that were the same color as the large house.

They made their way to the house, which had a pitched roof and heavily tinted windows. The tires gripped and skipped over the tiled driveway and came to a stop under a stone canopy. The driver got out of the car and came around to open her door. He extended his hand to help her out and she tentatively took it. When she’d stepped out of the car, he directed her to ornate cherry wood doors at the top of the wide steps. Kyle thanked him and made her way up.

As she was about to ring the bell, the door opened. A portly woman with short brown hair greeted her with a friendly smile. Kyle exhaled slowly—this was the first breath she was really aware of since she left her apartment.

I'm Maven, the older woman said, in that ethereal voice that was like warm honey. We spoke on the phone.

Kyle nodded as she opened her mouth, a dry croak emerged. She hadn’t realized how dry her mouth had become as rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Clearing her throat, she gave Maven a wan smile and walked in.

Nice to meet you in person.

Kyle stepped over the threshold and heard the brittle echo of her shoes against marble floors. She looked around and was surprised at how homelike the room was despite its size. It was open, spacious, but had such an airy feel to it. There was distinct warmth, which offset the coldness of the tile floors, and that was thanks in part to the beams of sunshine flowing from the skylight.

Kyle was startled when someone placed a hand on her elbow, presenting her with a bottle of water. She didn't even remember hearing Maven leave.

You sounded like you could use this.

Thanks, she said, taking the bottle from her. After a few sips, her throat felt less scratchy. Her gaze settled on Maven, who gave the impression she was more than just the housekeeper.

I don’t mean to be blunt, Maven, but what’s going on? Why am I here?

Again, the woman gave her a smile that helped her breathe through the rising anxiety.

I'll let Mr. Baxter answer all of your questions. I'm just the help, she added with a wink.

Mr. Baxter?

Just then, she heard neat steps behind her and turned to see who they belonged to. She could hardly believe her eyes as Newton Cassius Baxter, CEO of Baxter Chemicals, walked up to her and extended his hand.

She had heard about this rarely seen business titan. Sure, his picture was in the Business Journal and it was always the same one. Surprisingly, the photo looked not much younger than the man she saw now.

She knew him to be in his early sixties, but he there was a youthfulness that couldn’t be translated by any staged photo. He was taller than she imagined and greeted her with an easy smile. The man before her was a lot friendlier-looking than the one known to be a ballbreaker in the boardroom. She admired him for his blunt approach to business, but being in his presence, looking into those hazel green eyes, she sensed something more familiar. Beneath her curiosity was a sliver of irritation at all the jumbled pieces of the puzzle.   

Remembering her position, she took his hand firmly. Hello, Mr. Baxter. I'm Kyle Avery.

"Yes, I'm aware of you. The unseen CEO who took a small diner and turned it into Mama Avery Foods in less than five years. Impressive."

Thank you, she said, clearing her throat, which was suddenly sludgy again.

He indicated for her to follow him and she took another quick swig of water. She’d read so much about him, it was as if she knew his every business move.

He led her to the study and offered her a chair.

For more than a minute, Cass just studied Kyle. She looked so much like her mother, he thought. At the thought of Virgilia, he caught his breath. This was going to be harder than he thought but they had a deal, didn’t they?

Chapter 1

KYLE FELT HIS EYES on her, but there was something else. Hurt, maybe? She was beyond confused. What did the head of a chemical conglomerate want with a food company? And what did it have to do with her mother? Had she signed something with him before she died?

Kyle anchored herself in the knowledge that she was the majority stockholder and secure in the strides she made thus far. She couldn’t help but wonder...was he going to make an offer? Only one way to find out.

Mr. Baxter, I'm curious about what's going on here. I can't understand what Baxter Chemicals would want with Mama Avery Foods.

This isn't about business, Kyle. His voice was smooth and soft. And please, call me Cass.

Okay, Cass, I'll bite. If not business, then what? She held up the note, which was now mildly crumpled between her fingers. Why did my mother leave this?

That was Virgilia’s idea. Kyle saw Cass’ eyes dip as he straightened his fingers and rubbed his hands together. After a deep sigh, he continued. She thought it would be better to just have everything out, today of all days. The only problem is, we both thought she'd be here to tell you.

Kyle sat back in her chair and looked at Cass. Speaking about her mother, he was subdued, even vulnerable. A thought dotted her mind.

Did she have an affair with him?

From what she knew, he was unmarried, so technically it couldn’t have been an affair. But, what did that have to do with her?

That was the only explanation that made sense. Her mother had a relationship with one of the most powerful business men in the world...so why not just come out with it?

Kyle saw the muscles in his jaw jump.

I've never been one for looking back and regretting, he started, but about your mother, I find I have no choice but to feel a mountain of regret.

I don't understand.

Your mother and I...we... He cleared his throat.

Kyle leaned forward.

I’ve loved your mother for most of my life.

Kyle's body went rigid.

What are you talking about? You've known my mother for...

Virgilia and I first met in the 1970's. She came to work for my family.

Chapter 2

MIAMI, FL 197—

Virgilia Avery walked up to the door of the sprawling Gables mansion and knocked. Milly Banks opened the door and gave her, looking her up and down before giving her that heavy stare, meant to induce guilt. It was becoming more common in those days for a young, black woman to have something of her own, something that peppered her steps and straightened her shoulders as she walked in the world.

Of course there were always the other women, who resented her for that. Virgilia steeled herself because she knew the look and saw it bleeding from  Milly Banks’ eyes.

Milly looked at Virgilia. The last thing she needed was some uppity girl maid thinking she could use the front door just like everyone else. These people weren’t just rich, they were wealthy and a black girl walking in here with misplaced sense of entitlement would be a problem.  

I thought you were told that you needed to come in through the back, Milly said, with more than a touch of annoyance.

Virgilia narrowed her eyes and grit her teeth before replying. Jim Crow is over now. And the last time I checked, one door was as good as the next.

Unlike many women of color, Virgilia was more than aware of the times and her choices. She was going to college, but needed the extra money to cover her books.  She was fortunate to have a scholarship cover more than half of her tuition. But she decided against taking a loan, which would have made her like so many others who thought it was the faster way to live. That meant she’d have to swallow her pride and take any job which would make ends meet. 

As an architecture major, Virgilia planned to open up her own firm and build some of the most amazing buildings people had ever seen. Her mother had died suddenly when she was a child.

Her father? Well, he was more like a distant uncle who was there only in body, but then not even that much anymore.

While she would never say she hated her father, Virgilia disliked him ever since she’d overheard him and her mother arguing.

The man had questioned whether he was even her father. When her mother presented him with irrefutable facts, he laughed and called the girl nothing more than a jacket.

At the time, Virgilia had no idea what that statement meant. Her mother did, though, and ripped into him using language she’d never heard strung together like that. Her father quietened. After that day he would come and try to visit her, but Virgilia ignored him.

As the capable little girl her mother told her she was, she learned to take care of herself. Her mother constantly reminded her that a young black girl wasn't safe in this world. Her wits were her best weapon.

As a result, she learned to think quickly on her feet and paid attention in school, two skills that became her lifeline after her mother died. Virgilia found that not only was she good at math, but she was also pretty good at drawing. It started with shapes and then connecting shapes, then learning more about how certain shapes were more stable. The next thing she knew, she was drawing buildings, like houses and even her school.

Her father stayed with her but didn't pay much attention to her. They kept out of each other’s way and Virgilia was pretty much her own mother and father. She learned to live in her own world, separate from his smoke-filled haze. She got odd jobs, took some extra college-level courses and was able to get a few merit scholarships to the local university despite being accepted to a few good out-of-state schools.

After high school graduation, she learned the full lesson of what it meant to want something others don’t think you should have. Even though Virgilia was more than qualified for a variety of scholarships and grants, she got the distinct impression that skin color mattered more to some. The scholarship interviews were stunted. Some were even abruptly cancelled while she waited.

But her mother taught her to be practical and to go after what she wanted. If she was going to do this, it was going to be by her own hand.

Her first semester was an adjustment, but she loved it on its own merits. She applied for several on-campus jobs, but no luck. She also tried to get internships, but when the time for interviews came, the positions were suddenly filled.

The constant slaps stung and it got worse when a friend heard that this family in Coral Gables was looking for house help. 

She hated the idea of being a maid. It was so 1950's. But she loved the idea of getting a college education more than she disliked the idea of doing domestic work.

She applied and interviewed with Mrs. Joan Baxter. Mrs. Baxter was a woman of medium height and thin, limp brown hair. The one word that came to Virgilia's mind when she remembered the interview was stingy.

Chapter 3

MRS. JOAN BAXTER, KNOWN as ‘Joan the Crone’ looked at Virgilia’s resume and threw it on the desk. She commanded Virgilia to stand and she did so. She saw the girl’s lips become a stiff line as her chin jutted out.

She walked around the desk and looked Virgilia up and down. She was less than pleased with her squared shoulders and cocky air. A black girl bringing a resume to an interview for a maid position was a bit too forward for her tastes. These people don't wear ambition well, she thought.

Despite her disgust, she was in a pickle and couldn't afford to be choosy. It seemed that word had gotten out about how tough she could be. They even gave her a nickname, which made her eye twitch every time she thought of it.

Joan hired the girl and made a mental note to put her in her place as often as possible. Her first move was the offer.

Your pay will be twenty dollars a week—

Excuse me, Virgilia cut in, but the advertisement said thirty-five a week.

That’s for someone with experience. Joan replied, her voice as slick as slime. You don’t expect to make as much as someone like Milly, do you?

Virgilia held her ground. What I expect, Mrs. Baxter, is to be paid the amount specified in your advertisement. That one hundred-forty dollars a month would put a nice dent in her tuition and leave her enough room to save for the next semester. Anything less wouldn’t be worth it.

And that was when it hit her. She was familiar with the bait-and-switch routine being pulled regularly by people like Joan Baxter. They thought that since it was hard for blacks to get good work, there would be little argument.

The difference was Virgilia wasn’t having it. This was the seventies and Civil Rights was the blunt instrument used to beat sense into many ignorant white folks, especially in the South. She could read, write, vote and she wasn’t going to be cheated out of anything by anyone.

Looking at Mrs. Baxter who sat poised in her chair, her gaze triumphant, Virgilia grabbed her bag and the advertisement.

I haven’t dismissed you, girl, Joan sputtered, her eyes flared as she watched Virgilia’s back. I said...just where do you think you’re going?

Virgilia pivoted on her heel to face the woman.

If you’re offering less than your advertising, then I’m sure the University would appreciate knowing that your advertisement was mistaken. Virgilia turned to the door. The last thing they would ever want is to be party to any false advertising. Virgilia looked around. Especially from such a prominent, wealthy family, who can afford far more than thirty-five dollars a week. Thank you for the interview, but I will not be accepting this position.

Joan’s brow twitched as she contemplated the possibility of embarrassment for her husband, who had made it clear that she needed to get this housekeeper situation solved quickly.

Wait, she said, nearly screaming. Virgilia stopped and looked back. Joan’s lips flattened together as she looked at the young woman. This girl was not like the others, she thought.

Yes, Mrs. Baxter? Virgilia added a little extra honey to her tone.

I was mistaken. Taking an audible deep breath and raising her haughty head high, Joan Baxter said, I think thirty-five dollars is in my budget.

It was on the tip of Virgilia’s tongue to press for more but she smartly thought against it, replying Well, I’m so glad to hear that.

VIRGILIA SET HER HOURS and got the offer in writing, despite Joan’s resistance. There was, however, no mention of entering through the back door as if she was some shameful blight on the pristine household.  That’s where she and Milly never quite took tea. In other words, it was one subject they would never agree on.

VIRGILIA ENTERED THE house and Milly quickly ushered her to the kitchen. You ever worked in a house before? You don't look like no maid.

No, Virgilia responded. But, I'm a quick study.

Milly harrumphed. Leave it to Mrs. Baxter to hire some newbie with not a lick of experience, she thought.

Milly was a woman in her late forties and