"All right. It's your choice," Hayden said with a shrug. "Go get on the treadmill."
Axel got on the treadmill and pumped the speed up to six miles an hour. His legs pounded beneath him as he increased the incline. He felt his mind relax as his every spare bit of energy went to keeping his legs and arms moving. Nothing bothered him when he was training; he was like a blank slate. Everything that wasn't the upcoming fight went away.
But he wasn't running to forget Tiffany. He didn't care about her. There was someone else. The woman walking with Ingrid. He couldn't get her out of his head. But as he ran the image of her disappeared as his heart sped up.
Chapter Eight
Marie surveyed the master suite in the Hawks Mansion. It deserved its name. Intimidation washed over her as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. This one room was the size of Marie's entire apartment upstairs. There were thick throw rugs on the floor and large, floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with heavy draperies. The floors were wooden and they creaked when she walked over them. The walls were covered in beautiful purple wallpaper that featured interconnected lilies drawn in a thick black line.
The bedroom was dominated by a large four-poster bed against the north facing wall. The wooden frame was carved to resemble long, lean willow trees. The bedpost branches spread out above the bed to form the top of the frame from which heavy red curtains hung. They were stitched with gold to show little birds flying diagonally up and around the curtains. The bed was king-sized with a heavy mattress and two white pillows.
Marie reached out to touch the hand-carved bedframe. Ingrid told her she didn't need to wear gloves. She just needed to make sure her hands were clean and dry when she touched the antiques. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood and then along the curtains. It was all so fabulous and decadent. There was a huge black fireplace across from the bed and Marie could easily imagine lying there with a roaring fire while her servants prepared her lunch.
Hung on the wall in a golden frame was a portrait of the house's first owner, Edith Hawks. In the classically styled painting, Edith looked to be in her thirties. She was thin with dark hair and she was wearing an elegant-looking black dress. In the painting she was standing next to a well made of grey stone on a bright sunny day. There was a backdrop of greenery behind her and her long, red hair was flowing in the wind. She was giving the painter just the hint of a smile. She looked smart, like she was the kind of women you turned to in a disaster to tell you what to do.
Ingrid had told Marie all about Edith. She was the family's matriarch. It was Edith who decided that what's now Harksburg would be a good place for her and her new husband to settle down. Mr. Hawks wasn't sure. It was 1762 and there was almost nothing on the land, just a small settlement made mostly of rickety shacks. It was barely a village; just a handful of families lived here. But the land was cheap and Edith convinced her husband that if he created jobs, people would come to him.
So he started logging. Being right on a river it was all too easy to ship the logs down to the sawmill. It was a good business and, just like Edith promised, people followed. The town grew and while Mr. Hawks dealt with the business, Edith created the town. She organized the streets and dictated where houses could and couldn't go. She built the library, the post office, the courthouse, and she really worked, too. It wasn't rare to see old Edith down at the construction site demanding to know why the men were behind schedule.
She built a school and personally went to Philadelphia to find good teachers for it. She paid their salaries herself. She built an orphanage and a hospital and the list went on and on. Nothing stopped her. If she saw something was wrong or someone was being hurt or there was an injustice she wouldn't rest until she solved the problem.
Marie looked up at the painting and stood up a little straighter wondering what Edith would think of the woman living in her house now. She walked over to the closet and flicked on the light. Two-hundred-year-old dresses sat on dressmaker dummies along with modern replicas that hung in a small wardrobe. Marie worked here now, so she was able to lean forward and really look at the lace detailing and the many of little buttons. She stepped up to the dummy and admired the work and then did the same to the newer dresses. She held one up to herself and spun around. It was black velvet with delicate lacing on the wrists and collar. She sighed as she returned the dress to the wardrobe and closed the door.
She was looking at a lace veil when she thought she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She stood up but didn't see anyone.
"Ingrid?" she called out. But there was no answer. She walked out into the empty bedroom, but there was no sign on anyone. She must have just imagined the shadow. She gave one last look at the smiling Edith and then closed the bedroom door and went downstairs to meet Ingrid.
The older woman was standing at the foot of the stairs glancing at her watch.
"Am I late?" Marie asked.
"You are just on time. Now, tell me your thoughts for the party."
"Okay, well I was thinking we could limit it to the downstairs. This way we wouldn't need to worry about something happening to the antiques upstairs. We could hang string lights from the chandeliers for soft lighting and, if the weather permits, we could have drinks out on the deck. There's already a table out there we can use as a bar. I also thought we could reach out to the local college and see if we could get any artists to volunteer to come do portraits of the party. They could be spaced out in every room. I also thought that maybe some people could come in period costume, but only those who wanted to," she stopped breathlessly as she realized how she had been carrying on.
"That sounds very ambitious, but I like it!" Ingrid said. "It's fresh and new. I bet we sell an additional dozen tickets because of your idea."
Success wasn't easy. Ingrid liked her ideas, but now Marie had a lot of extra work to do. This party wasn't going to plan itself. She sat behind the computer in the office and took a deep breath. She wanted to do well; she wanted Ingrid to think she was capable of more than just caretaking the museum. But she felt nervous and self-conscious behind the computer. She was supposed to be emailing the art department of the local college to ask for volunteers, but her fingers wouldn't work. She felt like a fraud with no real idea of what she should be doing. She heard Austin's scoff in her head, his dismissive tone. She couldn't do this, what was she thinking.
"Everything all right dear?" Ingrid called over.
"Yeah," Marie said with a jump.
"It's just letters to the college," Ingrid said walking behind Marie and putting her hands on the other girl's shoulders. "Worst that happens is they say no."
Marie smiled and took a deep breath. She knew how to write an email. She knew how to do all of this. She was free of Austin now and she wasn't going to let him haunt her.
At the end of the day Marie realized she had worked nonstop and somehow had more to do. Having a party in a museum was more complicated than she thought, but she knew she could handle it. At five she stood up stretched out and walked into town to pick up Cate. People smiled and nodded at her as she passed. She didn't know them, but they all seemed to know her. Small town gossip at work, no doubt.
She passed a handsome man in a blue suit and when he smiled at her she blushed and stared down at the pavement. But she did give him one last glance after he had passed. Another man. She couldn't even think of such a thing. While she had only just left Austin a few days ago their relationship had been dead for a while, on her side anyway. She couldn't remember the last time Austin said he loved her. She hadn't loved him for a long time. If she had been able to, she would have left years ago. But she refused to leave without Cate.
Finally, she had started to seriously wonder why she was still with him. The answer was Cate and money and the fact that he would never actually let her leave. His pride wouldn't take it. He could dump her, but she could never break up with him. She had tried, more than once, but it had been impossible. She had no job and no skills and only a high school education; the best job she could get was minimum wage or waitressing. The hours were awful and she would never get to see Cate.
She thought she could control it. She thought if she learned from her mistakes and tried not to make him mad the fights would stop. But nothing worked. Something that made him happy one day drove him to a frenzy the next. He was always irritable and angry with her. Marie tried to shield Cate as best she could, but it was hard.