the biggest grin on your face and tell me you've finally met Prince Charming. You may claim you're over your divorce from Rick, but I don't believe you, Lib. And do you know why? You hardly ever date and you always find fault with any man who shows even half an interest in you." Connie gently chided her boss as she munched on a bagel spread thickly with cream cheese.
Connie had met Rick a couple of times before the divorce was final, and although she respected his work as an architect, it was easy to see why the marriage failed. Rick had an ego. A big ego. Things were fine while Libby struggled to establish herself in the field of historic preservation. But as her reputation grew and she felt confident enough to start her own business, Rick began to feel threatened by her achievements. Especially when he still hadn't been promoted to a junior partnership in the Philadelphia architectural firm where he worked.
Connie remembered Rick's last visit. He stopped by to see the upstairs offices, which had just been completed. After taking a quick look around, he proceeded to criticize everything Libby had done. The paint colors were wrong, the lighting placed incorrectly, the storage closet too small. It was obvious he was jealous of her success.
Libby didn't talk much about her failed marriage, even though Connie wished she would. Connie knew the divorce left Libby wary of all men and reluctant to enter into any relationship, long or short.
Connie eyed Libby with speculation, then decided to probe a little further. They were friends, after all.
"So why are you late today?"
"I had trouble sleeping, and if I told you it had something to do with Christopher Darnell, would you stop pestering me," Libby responded laughingly, "and let me get some work done?"
"That's right, you met with him yesterday. What did he do, turn down your request to use Harte's Desire?"
"No, actually, he agreed to it. He agreed to everything... the date, we can clear out the first floor, use the porches, the patio. We can do anything we want to for the fundraiser."
"And you're going to tell me that's why you were up late last night? You were out celebrating?"
"No," Libby replied with hesitation, "I'm going to tell you I met Prince Charming."
Connie put the bagel down and stared at Libby, wide-eyed. "Christopher Darnell is Prince Charming?"
Libby nodded in agreement.
"But I thought you said he was some old guy."
"Well, he's not."
Libby was immediately sorry for her confession because the discussion was dredging up memories she was trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to forget. Like the admiring look in his eyes as he watched her, the strong current of emotion that passed between them when they touched, the disarming smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and lit his whole face with a boyish charm.
"If he's not some old guy, then what is he?" Connie sounded cautiously curious.
"Tall, dark, and handsome. Every woman's dream. Great body, gorgeous eyes, strong hands, intelligent, hardworking... have I said enough?"
"The only thing you haven't said, but I'm hearing it in your voice, is that there's something wrong with him."
"Yes, he's Christopher Darnell," Libby stated bluntly. "Remember him? The man who wanted to tear down the bank building--and those other buildings--in Philadelphia? The man who's going to tear down Harte's Desire? He hates, no, despises historic buildings almost as much as he does me."
Connie looked at Libby sympathetically. "Well, Lib," she began thoughtfully, "maybe you can convert him over to your side. You know, show him just how great these old buildings can be. You've always been good at that kind of friendly persuasion."
"There’s no way that will ever happen, Connie," Libby said with resignation. "Besides, I think he knows who I am."
She proceeded to tell her about Mrs. McElroy's phone call earlier.
"As I see it, you don't have any choice, Lib. You have to go over there and find out what he wants. When you get back, I want to hear all the gory details. That is, if you live to tell the tale!" Connie laughed, winking at her boss. "And, if I don't see you, have a nice weekend!"
Chapter Five
For the second time in two days, Libby stood before the paired front doors to Harte's Desire feeling a mixture of dread and anticipation. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair in a gesture of nervousness. Taking a deep breath, she turned one of the large, embossed brass door knobs and walked