The Awakening

Chapter 3

“Get this god-awful tree out of here!” Andy shouted as he stormed into the grand library, his dark hide boots barely making a sound on the rich scarlet carpet as he cut a path toward his large mahogany desk. The library was his domain, a showpiece of the Friessen mansion. It was a very masculine room, filled with browns and reds, dark wood, leather chairs, oil paintings worth more than the estate, a room Andy had appointed as his office.

“Sir, your mother ordered this tree and left instructions for it to be set up and decorated in this very room,” Laura, a very young, pretty blond maid responded without glancing Andy’s way. She pursed her soft red lips and continued to hang bright green ornaments on the vibrant white tree.

Andy slid his large hand under a branch of the Douglas-fir. “I didn’t know that fir trees grew white. What, did you have this dyed?”

This time, the maid glanced at Andy with those sea-green eyes, wearing the ugly maid uniform that hung like a grain sack from what he could only imagine was a slim body underneath. It was the most unflattering getup, with a starched collar and buttoned up to her chin. And, of course, Andy being Andy, he couldn’t help wondering how she’d look in something low cut, slinky, and black. Preferably something that fit her like a second skin and showed off the generous bust he was pretty sure was buried under that stiff black cloth.

Maybe she’d guessed where his mind drifted, as her face colored and her eyes sharpened into narrow slits. “Your mother made sure all the trees were colored specifically for each room. The one in the living room, you’ll be happy to know, is green.” She averted her gaze and started yanking the ornaments off, pine needles dropping to the blood-red carpet, which was the only thing in this house he’d had a say in.

“So, Laura, is it?” Andy didn’t know why, but there was something about this girl who’d been working in his household since the spring, when he’d first seen her cowering and petrified in the hallway the day Jed disappeared. His cousin, whom he loved dearly, was married to Diana, a woman who haunted his dreams but would never be his. Andy and Diana had worked together to find an injured Jed, thrown from the stallion he had been training up toward blue meadow, and Diana had added to the excitement by going into labor, delivering their baby boy, Danny, Andy’s godson, that same night. He’d seen Laura in town shortly after holding a little boy’s hand, and he’d since wondered who he was. She didn’t look old enough to have children, as she appeared fresh out of high school. But, then again, he never asked, because he, unlike his father, didn’t become personal with the staff, especially attractive young things who worked for him, because that wasn’t okay. It was morally wrong, and he was having a hard time remembering what the other reason was. Ah, yes, s****l harassment.

“Yes?” The girl was staring at him with those big green eyes. He’d swear they were tinged with flecks of gold, which only illuminated her silky pale skin. She had not a spot of makeup on, but then, she didn’t need it. She had soft skin that just begged to be touched, and, frankly, Andy was tired of all those women who caked on the pounds of makeup like a mask just to hop in their cars to go to the store.

“Sorry, been distracted lately. I was just wondering how things are going, if you’re being treated okay. Do you like working here?”

Damn, that wasn’t what he really wanted to know, but he had to remind himself again that she worked for him, for his family. As he thought about it, he didn’t rightly know who had hired her, but the sizeable staff in the house and on the grounds was generally handled by Jules, the head housekeeper, a plump older lady who’d been with the family since Andy was in short pants. Andy wondered, too, if the deep lines on Jules’ face and the thick gray in her hair were a result of him and the wily pranks he had played on her as a child.

Laura dropped her gaze again, her cheeks tinting a hint of pink as she boxed up the ornaments. “Everything’s fine, sir.” She said it so abruptly and carried on as if trying to ignore him, and that irritated the hell out of him. She worked for him. She’d damn well give him her full attention, and he’d see to that now.

“Laura, you work for me. So when I ask you something, I expect your attention and a truthful answer,” he growled.

Her face colored a brighter red, and she glanced back at him warily. Andy, being as astute as he was, didn’t miss the hint of dislike that she was doing her damnedest to hide, but it was a piss-poor attempt.

“You’re right about one thing: I do work for you, but you don’t own me, and you don’t know me well enough to tell whether I gave you a truthful answer. So again, I’ll repeat it, everything’s fine, sir,” she responded in a tone that was pure business. This time, she didn’t look away as she continued to blush furiously, her lips pursed and trembling slightly as she stared up at him.

“If that’s all, sir, I’ll finish taking down these ornaments and haul the tree out of here.” Again, she stared him down with those green eyes, resembling a very enticing witch, a witch he wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better.

Andy uncrossed his arms and moved to his desk, pulling out his leather chair and sitting down. He propped both his booted feet on the sleek polished wood top of the desk, crossing his legs at the ankles, and watched her, lacing his fingers behind his head. She seemed startled, as her eyes widened. Maybe she expected him to leave.

“Carry on” was all he said.

She took a moment to collect herself before continuing to yank ornaments from the branches as if she were being timed. Pine needles flew everywhere. She was in a hurry, all right, not just to finish but to get the hell away from him.

When she bent over in that god-awful uniform, the dress rode up her thighs, and he was treated to a view of her shapely legs. She was tiny, her head wouldn’t have topped his shoulders—and nervous as hell, too. He could see her trembling. Although not obvious, it was something he sensed, just like he sensed she wasn’t thinking about the poor tree. She was just ripping those damn ornaments from that tacky tree as fast as she could, and he had no doubt she’d bolt as soon as the last one was off. For the life of him, he’d never experienced a woman running from him. This was intriguing, or it would have been if he didn’t feel so irritated by the fact that it bothered him. Women didn’t do that, not to Andy Friessen. Women found any ridiculous excuse to find a way to be around him. In town, at the store, dropping items, a purse, a bag—one woman even unbuttoned her blouse to expose a generous amount of indecent skin before crossing the street to him, putting an extra sway into each step. He’d never had a problem finding a woman for anything. The fact was that most of them bored him to tears, except Diana, his cousin’s wife. And she’d never be his.

“Oh, no!”

Andy was so deep in thought, he only glimpsed Laura as she took a header into the white Christmas tree, and it came crashing down, all twelve feet of tinted fir needles, with a whoosh and scrape of wood. Something thumped hard, and glass shattered.

Andy jumped up, slamming his feet on the thick carpet as he raced around the desk. Laura was tangled in the tree. Her dress had ridden up, showing the elastic of her old-lady panties. The only thing Andy could think was what a waste they were on such a lovely round, curvy butt.

“Are you okay?” Andy reached down and lifted Laura as he would a child, and he sat her on the edge of the desk.

“Mr. Friessen, whatever is going on in here?” Jules, the older, graying, plump housekeeper who ran the estate, hurried into the library but was stopped by the downed tree. She slapped both hands to her round cheeks and shrieked. Shattered ornaments, bits of fir needles, and broken branches were strewn across the plush red carpet and the sofa table. The huge tree had knocked over one of the leather chairs and the bar that had been moved to the other side of the room to make room for it. Decanters and liquor bottles lay on their sides, the crystal shattered, liquor pooling and seeping into the carpet. Laura sat perched on the edge of Andy’s desk, white fir needles sticking out of her blond hair, though they were hard to see unless he really looked. Her neat bun had drooped, and her hair hung in an untidy mess. Her entire expression had turned into that of a lost young girl, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

“Oh my God!” Caroline, his mother, shouted as she strode in with all the elegance of a queen, dressed in a deep green silk knee-length dress that hugged her every curve and showed what an attractive woman she still was. Her shoulder-length light hair was impeccably groomed, and when she stopped beside Jules, her mouth opened as if she couldn’t think of what to say. Then her shrewd gaze landed on Laura, and her pale blue eyes turned frosty and unforgiving. “What a mess you’ve made, girl.”

Even Andy was taken aback by the iciness of her tone, and he didn’t miss the way Laura cringed, like a dowdy school girl. Hell, Andy had cowered under his mother as a little boy when she’d have one of her tantrums, generally after he’d broken some useless and really expensive trinket of hers.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I tripped, but I’ll… c-clean this up,” she stuttered and pressed her small hand to her throat.

Andy narrowed his eyes and watched Caroline, as she appeared to just be winding up for one of her many tantrums. As far back as Andy could remember, his mother had never shown an ounce of empathy toward anyone, not even her own child. And this time was no different. She glared at Laura with as much feeling as a viper and the energy of one that was about to strike, and then she surveyed the damage, the disarray, and the mess with a swift, well-organized glance. Lifting her chin and straightening her back, she spoke clearly: “The damage will come out of your last check. Jules, see that she’s escorted off the property within the next five minutes.” She looked over to Laura. “Do not ever return. If you do, the proper authorities will be called.”

Andy jerked his gaze from his mother to Laura’s wide eyes, now filled with tears. He could tell she was struggling to hold it together, as she appeared to have trouble swallowing. “Mother, it was an accident. You’re being a bit hasty. For God’s sake, it’s just a stupid tree, and I ordered her to get it out of here. I made it clear to you before that if you want to decorate the rest of the house, it’s fine—just stay out of my office,” Andy said to his mother, but Caroline, who could be so prickly at times, stood unbending and in fact raised one eyebrow.

“Anderson, the tree stays. The girl goes. I have guests arriving for our annual Christmas party. You’ll have your office back after Christmas. Jules, the girl, get rid of her.” She literally snapped her fingers, and Jules jumped, saying, “Yes, Mrs. Friessen,” and motioning frantically at Laura.

Caroline didn’t stay but strode from the room, the heels of her silver pumps clicking across the marble floor of the grand entry and down two steps to an exquisite living room, with fancy white trim, which was decorated in peach and gold, floor-to-ceiling windows, and velvety white carpet. A twelve-foot cream-colored Christmas tree was also decorated to perfection with gold, silver, and red.

Caroline walked as if she were in a beauty contest, head high, striding to a small round dinette set where one of the maids had set a china tea service. Caroline had to know he was following her, but she ignored Andy, which was a skill she’d perfected years before. It was amazing—his mother broke the mold in snobbery, and he’d never met anyone who could look right through him and choose whether to see him quite like his mother could.

She brushed aside the white napkin that had been folded over the gold china cup, pouring tea and adding a generous amount of milk. She sipped and picked up the day timer sitting on the antique glass-top desk by the window. She never glanced up as she sat in the white leather chair that was matched to all the furnishings in the room. “Is there something you would like, Andy? As I said, I have a million things to do today to organize this household and be ready in time for the party.” She glanced up at him and pasted on one of her practiced smiles that always charmed the senators.

“Mother, I am not going to continue butting heads with you. What you did, firing Laura just now, wasn’t okay. For God’s sake, she didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” Andy stated, rather annoyed, and gestured toward the library before setting his hands on his hips. He stood in front of her desk, glaring down at her until she slowly, with the control of a seasoned politician, set down her tea and folded her hands neatly on the desk, eyeing him coolly.

“Anderson, this is my house. Therefore, the servants work for me, and I will decide how they are treated and who stays and who goes, not you.” She picked up her cup again and sipped, then gave him one of her disapproving looks. “Laura, really? Already on a first-name basis? In some ways, you really are like your father.” She said it with such disdain, and the fact that she had alluded to the possibility of him playing hanky-panky with the maid irritated the hell out of him, even though, less than ten minutes before, he had been imagining Laura dressed down in something completely indecent and doing all kinds of lewd things with him. He often wondered what kind of sixth sense his mother had for the perverse. But then, she had to, being married to his dad, Todd, who had the uncanny ability to sniff out a new mistress as soon as he tired of one, just to keep his interests alive and his bed warm. His father could be like a hound dog when he was hot on the trail of a new scent. Andy liked to think that trait was Todd’s alone, and he would ram his fist in the face of anyone who accused him of being a scoundrel, toying with women’s hearts and tossing them away when he was done. There was a very big difference between Andy having any woman he wanted and Andy being like Todd Friessen.

So he bared his teeth and growled at his mother, because he was damn tired of cleaning up after his father and putting up with his mother’s arrogance. “You know what’s absolutely amazing? How you treat people and have for years, just by snapping your fingers and expecting everyone to jump, with no care to anyone’s feelings. You and Dad are so much the same, it’s absolutely terrifying.”

“I am not like that…” Caroline sputtered, but Andy didn’t let her finish.

“You are exactly like him. You believe everyone is replaceable and have little care for anyone’s feelings. Dad, with every woman he beds. You, with the servants, how you treat everyone. You know what? I’m done cleaning up. I’ve got my own life to live.” Andy was shouting, but Caroline hardened her expression better than any snake he’d ever met. When she did that, even Andy felt a rush of worry, because the woman was the only one who could yank the rug out from under him—there was no way to know what she was thinking.

“I’ve invited Alexis Johnston. You remember, the senator’s daughter. She just graduated from Stanton, and I told the senator that you’d be her escort for the party. He’s counting on you. Don’t disappoint me, Andy. Whatever you’re doing with your maids, keep it in the closet, where it belongs.” She issued the order as if she expected him to fall into line, then picked up a stack of envelopes and started filing through them.

Andy laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes. His mother really was a piece of work. “You must have been drinking or something, because you don’t ever order me to do anything. You certainly are not fixing me up with any woman.” He ground his teeth together before growling, “Not ever, Mother.” He could feel the irritation biting the back of his neck as he strode out, and he wanted nothing more than to ram his fist into a wall.

But he didn’t, and he wasn’t even out of the room when Caroline spoke in a loud, clear voice: “Oh, I think you will, since Senator Johnson is on the very committee that your cousin Jed approached for funding for his therapeutic riding.”

Andy’s blood chilled, and all the fiery anger he had been containing moments ago was replaced with an array of worry he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Only his mother could knock him over and leave him absolutely speechless. He turned slowly to meet the sharp gleam in the woman’s ice-blue eyes. A woman who had given birth to him, a woman he had no doubt would sell him down the river for the right offer if it was in her best interest.

“Yes, the senator and I had quite a chat about how tight funding is now, with the national debt this country carries and how selective any new programming must be. It’s quite a project, really, that your cousin is starting with that Claremont he married. I mean, really, the senator can’t be providing funding to just anyone.” Her face was hard as stone, not a flicker of emotion. He wondered for a moment if she had a bone of feeling in her body.

“Diana is her name, and she was a Fulton when she married Jed. She never deserved to be treated that way as a child. Diana and Jed are good people, Mother. You stay away from them, and stay out of Jed’s business.” He ground out each word, reminding himself she was his mother and, no matter what, it was never okay to strangle one’s own mother. But he also knew his mother never made threats; she insinuated, she dug, and she destroyed those she didn’t like, and she never gave any warning. The Art of War, she could have written it. But Caroline, being Caroline, always had an agenda, and it was never wise to let her know what mattered to him, because she would use it. Andy had learned that the hard way over the years. When he was twelve, she’d gotten rid of his pony, Chantelle, the one he’d whispered all his dreams to. Just because he refused to go to some fancy boys’ school in England that her father, uncles, and brothers had all attended.

The Art of War“I told the senator you’ll pick up his daughter when she flies in tomorrow. She’ll be staying here at the estate.”

This time, Andy walked away before he could respond, the fury pouring out of him with each step. Back in the library, two servants were righting the downed Christmas tree, and another scrawny maid in a sack-like dress was on her knees, cleaning up the shattered glass and decanters. Another one was scrubbing the liquor seeping into the carpet.

“Get out!” Andy roared, and each of them stopped what they were doing and left.

Andy was breathing hard as if he’d run across the estate. He jammed his fingers in his hair as he paced and froze in front of the large window, watching as Laura was escorted down the front driveway.