She sighed. It was best to head back to hermother’s house. She could use some more rest from her trip. Thenshe spotted Lance a few feet away from her.
Chantelle blinked, realizing who he wasvisiting. She drew back from her father’s gravestone. Turning herback, she headed for her car, but paused. She couldn’t leavewithout paying her respects.
***
Lance switched the dead flowers for the freshroses in front of his sister’s grave. He released a shallow sigh.Fourteen was too young to die. Why his sister? She had practicedher laps over a hundred times. Why did the day she won thecompetition have to be her last?
He ran his hand over the polished smoothheadstone, feeling the tickle of cut grass underneath his knees.“I’m sorry I missed your birthday yesterday.” He loosened his tie.“Just thought I’d stop by and bring your favorite flowers.”
“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked.
Ripping his eyes away from his sister’sgravestone, he caught Chantelle standing behind him.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, but I stoppedby to visit my dad. I saw you here and…” She stopped. “I’ll leaveyou alone. I should’ve left.”
“No,” he said. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
She bobbed her head, and he gestured for herto come closer. The wind picked up, blowing her loose curls in thewind. She brushed them back as best she could.
Lance asked. “How are you? You know… visitingyour dad.”
She looked upward and even he detected thechange in the weather noticing a grayish cast to the light.
“I’m okay. Every day gets easier.” She rubbedher forearms. “If you’re that uncomfortable with me doing thisstory, I’ll ask my boss to—”
“No, Chantelle don’t do that.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You want meto stay?”
He stood to his feet, dusting off hisclothes. “It would have been nice if I knew it was you.”
“Your fiancé didn’t tell you?”
“She’s busy with her photo shoot. Her agentwas supposed to get back with me, but Andrea is good at stayingbusy.”
“You must miss her?”
Lance cleared his throat. His lips parted toask how she’d been, but a rain droplet hit his forehead. “Notgood.”
Chantelle used her purse to cover her head asshe dashed ahead of him. Lance followed behind her. He heard thegentle patter as droplets hit foliage. His clothes stuck to hisskin as rain slid down his collared shirt. He spotted a puddleahead. How did Chantelle run in heels? He would never know.
“Oh, no!” She skidded along the concrete ofthe parking lot.
Lance reached out and grabbed her from behindby her waist. There was no point in rushing to his car. The rainsoaked them.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Where’s your car?”
She pointed to the Malibu parked a few spotsaway from his car. “I can get there by myself.”
Lance released his grip at her waist, and fora moment, he recalled how it felt to hold her. He swallowed thelump in his throat and proceeded to his car, making sure she gotinside hers. When he reached his, Lance turned on the heater andreached for towels in his backseat. He needed to changeclothes.
He rubbed his chilled hands for a second.When his cell rang, he answered for her.
“So…” Chantelle said. “Does this mean we’rerescheduling our appointment? I have to fix my hair.”
He chuckled.
“I’m serious. This is not professional.”
“Are you on your way home?”
“Yes, I am. Are you?” she asked.
“I’m pulling off now. I have to hurry if I’llmake the board meeting today.”
“You don’t keep a change of clothes at youroffice? Don’t all businessmen do that?”
“You watch too many movies.”
“Anyway, will tomorrow work at the sametime?”
“What all do you need? It seems like a lotfor an article.”
She giggled. “If you were a regular man,maybe. Like I said before, you’re a celebrity.”
If only he hadn’t agreed for Peoplemagazine to feature him as the most eligible bachelor. Thejournalist bombarded him with questions about his family, homelife, and his personal life. Dating Andrea Williams meant a newlevel of invasion of privacy.
He met the model eighteen months prior at thegala his parents hosted every year. It was amazing how one of hisfather’s millionaire clients knew the rising star. She’d beeninvited to the event. Lance had been surprised to see her in asmall town like Delta Heights, but Andrea’s beauty struck him thatnight. Who would pass on the opportunity?
“Are you there?” Chantelle asked.
Lance gripped the wheel. “Yeah. Tomorrow willwork for me. Though lunch time will be best.”
“Okay, well… don’t get sick.”
He laughed. “You neither.”
With that, he hung up and headed home forsome dry clothes.
Chapter 8
Glenda, the family cook, served the Taylor’sfamily table. Lance’s eyes scanned his choices: purple hull peas,baked chicken, sweet potatoes, cornbread, and brisket. He servedhis own plate despite the churn in his stomach. Lance hated their“family” dinners, but he didn’t want repercussions from his mother.He loved her, but she could nag him to pieces.
His father was no different, although he wasless vocal about it. Though he admired his father, theirrelationship wasn't as strong as it used to be. Lance missed theold days where he and his father would play catch.
When he tried out for the basketball team inmiddle school, his dad bought a basketball goal, and hung it on thegarage outside for him to practice. Lance’s father used to take himfor ice cream as a boy, but now they barely saw each other forlunch at the law office.
Simple nods and grunts were common. Lancebelieved his mother organized their dinners to help, but if a grownman didn’t want to talk, he didn’t. Still, Lance made the effort.He loved his parents. He came over when he could to visit, but itwas getting burdensome. If only the house felt like home.
“You’re not eating?” His mother pointed herfork to his plate.
Lance moved around a few sweet potatoes onhis plate. “Not that hungry.”
His mother took a sip from her glass of tea.“Well, you have nothing to worry about. I’m taking care ofeverything.”
“I thought you raised me to take care ofmyself.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.
She
