Fall Into Magic- A Novella Read online

  Fall Into Magic

  A Novella

  By:

  Melissa Baldwin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Melissa Baldwin

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0692785299

  ISBN 13: 978-0692785294

  I dedicate this book to my miracle baby girl who shares my love of all things fall and Halloween.

  Chapter One

  I look out over the crashing waves as I enjoy my last few hours of vacation. Why do these hours always go by so quickly? I’m trying to soak up every last second, even though this summer coming to an end is somewhat bittersweet for me.

  What should have been one of the best summers of my life definitely changed a few weeks ago when my boyfriend, Jake—insert: now ex-boyfriend—decided to end things. Who ends things in the middle of a fantastic vacation anyway? I could go into detail about his explanation, but I’d rather not relive those horrible fifteen minutes again. And to be honest, his explanation was rather vague. Let’s just say “I’m not sure I’m ready to be in such a serious relationship” came into play. It was bad enough having to explain to my friends why Jake decided to head back to Connecticut early. My friend Angie’s aunt has a place at Gurney’s Inn and we’ve enjoyed summers here for several years. This is by far the worst one, at least for me.

  Anyway, it took Jake all of fifteen minutes to wrap up an amazing eighteen months together. Following his quick breakup, I spent several hours doing the usual things women do after being dumped. I cried as I poured over photos and listened to sad love songs. And my friend Angie bought me three boxes of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls, which I devoured over the following two days.

  As devastating as it has been, there is light at the end of the tunnel and I’m trying my hardest to focus on that light. Fall is around the corner and that gives me something to concentrate on and look forward to. At least I still have my job, and first thing on Monday morning, I begin work with a new client, which will give me an opportunity to immerse myself into someone else’s home (i.e. life). Thankfully, I’m one of those people who enjoys my career as an interior decorator. So, as sad as it is watching the summer roll away with the waves, I’m ready to begin the next new chapter in my life . . . I think.

  “Are you thinking about Jake?” Angie asks as she sits down and crosses her legs on the lounge chair next to me. She rips open a package of Chocolate Twizzlers, holding it out to me. Typical Angie, she eats more junk food than anyone I’ve ever met but you would never know it. She’s a marathon runner so that definitely helps to balance out her love of all things sweet and fattening. I take three pieces because—well, you know, when in Rome.

  “No I’m not,” I lie. “Well, not entirely.”

  She sighs as she looks out over the ocean. “Another summer comes to an end.”

  I nod. “That’s actually what I was thinking about.” I pause. “It’s okay, though. I’m ready to get back. I have plenty of work to keep me busy.”

  She chews on a piece of Twizzlers. “Did Jake already pick up his stuff?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yep. He texted to tell me that he left his key with nosy Mrs. Rothera, who lives downstairs. Now I’m going to have to give her an explanation, too, because you know how she lives for all the gossip.”

  “At least your dad will be happy,” she adds. That is true; my dad never liked Jake, so this is sure to please him. He never told me why he didn’t like him, though. He would just say that he had a feeling about him. Looking back, I really wish he would have told me why. He could have saved me several months of my life and definitely some tears. It’s probably something silly like him being a Giants fan instead of a Jets fan. Football is a huge deal in my family being that my father has been a coach for years. I guess I should have known better from day one.

  “Yes, he will,” I agree. “But I’m not ready to admit he was right just yet. Still, I told Jake I would get the key from him later but he clearly wanted to be free of all ties to me.”

  “Oh well, it’s his loss. He couldn’t face you, what a loser,” Angie shouts. Angie is so loud, being born and raised in Staten Island and coming from a big Italian family will do that to you. I do appreciate her loyalty, though—she’s been my rock these past few weeks.

  “Are you ready to get back?” I ask. She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess all good things come to an end.”

  I give her a sad smile. “Yes, they do.”

  ~*~*~

  Home sweet home. As soon as I walk into my apartment I look around to see if Jake left anything—of course, he didn’t. He really couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. We actually didn’t live together but he was here all the time being that he has a roommate. Oh well, it’s his loss just like Angie said. I need to make myself busy so I don’t get sad again.

  As much as I love traveling, I really hate this part—the unpacking and laundry is worse than a trip to the dentist. After I throw a load in the washer, I make myself a cup of peppermint tea and open my laptop. Time to get in work mode. I look over the proposal I put together for my new client, Alexander Williams. I haven’t had the opportunity to meet Alexander yet, but I did do what every normal person in the world would—I stalked his social media. I admit I almost fell off my barstool when I first searched him out—a) he looks like Clark Kent from Superman, and b) his favorite movie is Grease 2, which also happens to be my favorite movie. Not that it’s a big deal for him to like the movie, but it definitely caught my eye when he posted that he was watching Grease 2 and always dreamed of being a T-Bird. I’m sure he only cares about watching Michelle Pfeiffer, and to give credit where credit is due, she was stunning in that movie. When I was younger, I wished I looked like Michelle Pfeiffer with her blonde locks and blue eyes. My mom would always get mad when I said this; she told me to embrace my brown eyes and thick reddish-brown hair. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my hair and so does everyone else, but I think it’s pretty normal to want what we can’t have. I must get at least ten compliments a day on my hair . . . Jake always loved my hair. Crap, there I go again. How am I supposed to do this? Do I just pretend that I didn’t spend all that time with him? Do I pretend that I wasn’t in love with him? Ugh.

  Anyway, back to my new client. All my communication has been done through his assistant Melanie. According to her, they heard Summer Interiors is the best in Connecticut. (I may or may not have danced around my office when she said this because business has been slow this year.) So from what I can tell, Alexander’s story is that he just moved into a new home and he’s in need of a decorator. However, I get the feeling there’s more to the story than just that because, as I said, I did a little background checking. Disclaimer: I need to know what I’m walking into—you just never know what kind of crazy you might find, especially going into someone’s home. I send one last reminder invite to both Melanie and Alexander, and I close my laptop. This job really couldn’t have come at a better time with my relationship ending the way it did, and since Jake’s so ready to move on, so am I.

  ~*~*~

  “Damn, you weren’t kidding; he totally looks like Clark Kent,” Angie says as she holds my phone close to her face and squints. “Jake who?” she says with a wink.

  Yeah, right. There’s no way that’s happening. If only it was so easy to just forget him and move on to someone else. And even if I were to do that, it wouldn’t be with a client.

  “You need to get your eyes checked, Ang,” I scold while ignoring her comment
about Jake. This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation about her squinting. I’m scared to get in a car with her.

  “Summer, I told you I have perfect vision. Everyone in my family has perfect vision.”

  I roll my eyes as she continues talking. “And I told you there is no way in hell that I’m putting any foreign objects in my eyes. Contacts look like torture devices to me.”

  I giggle. For as open and loud as she is, she’s also the biggest baby. I finally had to forbid her from checking WebMD anytime she had to sneeze.

  “So, when is your meeting with Clark?” she asks as she takes a bite of her English muffin.

  “His name is Alexander, and our meeting is at ten thirty,” I say absently as I check my emails. Whew. Just making sure I didn’t get a cancellation.

  “Whatever,” she says, waving her hand. “We need to discuss more important things—like our Halloween costumes.”

  I smile. I know this may seem silly to some people but Angie and I have dressed up every Halloween since we were in 11th grade. We almost missed one year because we had a huge fight, but she called me crying the night before, begging me to at least dress up for a party we were attending. She must have had a few drinks because she was rambling something about us missing our holiday together would curse all future Halloweens. I thought she was losing it but I’m not one to risk being cursed.

  “I already told Brett that I had plans with you on Halloween,” she says pointedly. “And he mentioned something about going to play poker. Who plays poker on Halloween, the best night of the year?” she shouts. I pretend to cover my ears just to make a point. Even though I don’t need to being that everyone around us turns to stare.

  Brett is Angie’s boyfriend. At first, I thought he was weird and kind of scary. First of all, he’s huge (Incredible Hulk huge) and he shaves his head. My first impression was that he was an MMA fighter but found out he teaches eighth grade history. I would have freaked out if I walked into a class in eighth grade and he was my teacher.

  “It’s totally cool if you want to hang with Brett that night,” I say, even though the thought of being alone on my favorite night of the year is already starting to break my heart.

  “Oh stop, seriously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I just told you he’s making plans to play poker. Halloween is totally our night, and if you aren’t bringing a man, then neither am I.”

  I give her a grateful smile. I was hoping she’d say that. I realize this will be the first holiday season in a few years that I’ve been single. Ugh. And let’s face it, this is pretty much the worst time to be single, and not because of the whole gift thing. There’s nothing better than curling up by a roaring fire with the person you love. And I don’t even want to think about New Year’s Eve. When I was eighteen, I spent New Year’s Eve at a restaurant with my friend and her boyfriend. I acted like a total bitch the entire night because I was feeling sorry for myself. I definitely don’t want a repeat of that, so I will do what it takes to avoid that at all costs.

  I double-check the time and realize I better get going to my meeting.

  “I’m out of here,” I say, checking to make sure I have everything. “We will continue our conversation about Halloween later. We still have plenty of time.”

  “Not that much time,” she insists. “The festivities will be here before we know it.” She jumps up and gives me a hug. “Anyway, good luck in your meeting. I expect a full report on Clark.”

  “Alexander,” I remind her. Of course, she’s not listening to me. No surprise there.

  I type the address that Melanie gave me into my GPS. Luckily, New Canaan isn’t that far away. When I check my phone one last time before I get on the road, there’s a text message from Alexander Williams. (What?)

  Looking forward to meeting with you this morning.

  I’m totally in shock because I haven’t spoken to him once since Melanie contacted me. He hasn’t responded to any of the emails I sent, so why now? I admit I was curious before, but now I’m completely intrigued by this man. His text has made me even more excited for what’s next. Summer may be over but I’m ready for a fabulous fall and whatever comes my way.

  Chapter Two

  When I pull into the circular driveway, I’m in awe. I cruise really slow as I stare out the window at the pristine manicured lawn. The house is stunning but not a gaudy or oversized stunning. I can feel my excitement growing, and I can’t wait to get inside and unleash my decorating magic.

  Decorating magic . . . yuck. That’s a phrase Jake came up with after I decorated his boss’s Cape Cod cottage. According to him, my decorating skills were the talk of his office for months. I even got a few other jobs out of it, and he received all kinds of recognition because of me. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as my frustration grows thinking about Jake.

  I pull up close to the front door behind a sleek silver Audi. Taking a few cleansing breaths, I walk toward the door and ring the bell. I laugh because the doorbell tone sounds a lot like Guns N’ Roses “Welcome to the Jungle.” Should I be concerned?

  A short, blonde girl with a round face meets me at the door. “Hi, Summer, I’m Melanie,” she says as she holds out her hand. Wow, she’s really short. I feel like a giant at my average 5ʹ6ʺ height. I guess I could have worn something other than these wedges.

  “Great to finally meet you in person,” I say cheerfully. It could be my imagination but it sounds like she groans.

  “Follow me to Mr. Williams’s office.” She turns down the hallway to the right. Normally, I would be trying to figure out her strange behavior, but I’m too busy. Too busy looking at the bare walls, the circular rod iron staircase, and the wooden beams in the kitchen. Wow. The possibilities will be endless with this place. Houses like this are exactly why I decided to be an interior decorator.

  We walk into the office at the end of the long hallway and the first thing I notice is a wall of glass windows overlooking the beautiful garden. It reminds me a little of an English estate, except on a much smaller scale. The other walls in the office are bare except for a built-in bookshelf to the right when you walk in. Alexander is nowhere to be seen, and I’m starting to wonder if this guy even exists.

  “Mr. Williams will be here shortly,” she says in a cold, curt tone. “Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?”

  I smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine, but thank you.” There’s no way in hell I’m taking a drink from this girl. Judging by the cold reception I’ve received, I would be afraid she would spit in it or maybe even poison it. Okay, so I know that’s silly, but I can read people really well and this girl doesn’t like me. Maybe she lured me into this house on purpose; I still haven’t seen Mr. Williams. I’m really confused because she seemed fine the few times I spoke to her and her emails were always pleasant. I guess it’s possible that she’s just having a bad day.

  I sit down on the edge of one of the big leather chairs to wait for Mr. Williams. The furniture is rustic and comfortable (and expensive). I look out the window over the sprawling yard. Wow, I would love to have a view like this.

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” a voice says from behind me. I stand up and turn around. Holy crap—Alexander Williams does exist and he looks just like his profile picture.

  “Oh, um, no problem. I . . . just arrived,” I stutter. I don’t know why I’m feeling so nervous all of a sudden. He sits down at his desk, and I study his face for a few seconds. Immediately I notice his friendly smile and dark wavy hair, and he really does resemble Clark Kent. I take a breath and count to five.

  “Your home is stunning,” I say with a confident tone in my voice. “Of course, it’s missing a few touches that will really bring out its charm. But, that’s what I’m here for.”

  He nods as he takes a sip of his coffee (I’m sure Melanie didn’t poison his drink). “It is a great house. I’ve only been here about three months. After my divorce, I started looking outside the city for something a little quieter. My mother grew
up in Ridgefield, and I’ve always loved Connecticut. As soon as I saw it, I had a feeling this was the right place for me.”

  So, he’s recently divorced? Very interesting. This is not the first new bachelor I’ve worked with. I wonder why he chose such a big house for just himself.