Chapter 13
“Ms. Rockmoor?”
Elisa hiccupped slightly in surprise and broke from her reverie. As she turned around, she faced a distinguished gentleman.
“Mr. Girron.” She said, assuming that it must be him.
She rose to shake his hand as she realized just how tall he was. She had been told he was over forty years of age, but his face seemed ageless and she could not help but smile back at him as he waved her to sit once again. He took a seat opposite her in the settee. The sunlight through the high windows cut looming shadows across the room and, for a moment, Elisa could have sworn the wind seemed to sigh as if to welcome its master back home.
“Please,” Girron said, leaning back comfortably, “tell me a bit about yourself. I like to know who I hire to work on something as important as my home.”
Elisa was taken aback. No one had even hinted at how personal Girron would be. In fact, by most accounts, just the opposite. She had expected to come in, review the plans, and be gone with a curt dismissal or a chance of a lifetime to build upon the perfect library. Now, he was across from her and all her preconceptions were completely laid to waste. She did not know what that say, so she began at the beginning.
“Well.” Elisa said, straightening her skirt and closing her eyes for a brief second, taking in a deep breath. “I was born in a small suburb right outside the city. My parents didn’t have much, but they were able to give me all that I ever wanted, including a college education in art design. I have a younger brother. He is still attending college back east. He was given the smart gene. Goes to Harvard. I was the artistic one. My parents, thank god, never stopped me from going for my dream. And, here I am. My first chance to prove myself.”
“I wanted to thank you again for this opportunity, Mr. Girron.” Elisa’s gratitude shown brightly in her eyes and she could see that her frank nature had won his approval. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of the opportunity she thought she was being given.
“Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Rockmoor.” Girron said, his face now a mask of seriousness. She knew that this was a face he reserved for business and immediately straightened herself and leaned forward to listen. “This will be a challenge. I want several things done to this room; all of which must be done without effecting the current foundation and historical roots of the shape and sculpture of the structure. Are you up to the challenge?”
Elisa did not hesitate. “You will not be disappointed, Mr. Girron.”
“Good.” He slowly rose and extended his hand once more. She shook it heartily. “Leave your plans here and I will look them over and email you any changes or suggestions and we will revise as we go along. Plan to have the final, finalized copy by the time the construction crews arrive.”
“When will that be?” Elisa could not believe it. Had her plans been enough to convince him to hire crews before they were even inspected fully? Or, did he have alternatives in the wings, ready to cook should she fail? She was not willing to find out and vowed to work twice as long and hard until the day of reckoning.
“In a week.” He led her out of the library and as the doors closed behind them, she felt a sense of loss. Having been so close to one of her fantasy places to live in as a child, she had a hard time parting with it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an engagement with my sons. Jervaise will show you out.”
The British butler that had led her in, had appeared on cue as if he had been waiting in some dark corner all this time. She thanked Girron one more time and followed Jervaise out and to her car. As she left, she realized that all of it was really coming true. Her life had been leading to this. God, she hoped she did not screw it up!

 
Chapter 12
Elisa stood in awe before the majestic home that lay sprawled before her as far as she could see. She had only moments to admire the view when a voice at the top of the steps reminded her of her assignment here.
“Ms. Rockmoor, I presume?” The British accent came from a man with silver hair in a stainless starched butler’s uniform. She nodded in acknowledgement and he motioned for her to follow. With trepidation, Elisa walked nimbly up the steps and through the massive oak double doors that led into the front entry foyer. A cough from the starched suit jolted her and she realized she was still being led astray by the view. She could never live like this. She would get too used to it and end up a vegetable. Sometimes she desired such finery, but realized that it really would never suit her. Although the place was awe-inspiring, the walls were cold, as if there was a lack of something she could not put a name to.
She was led through another entry way that led into a larger area framed by arched stairs on both sides that she assumed led to more private chambers of the house. This area was warmer as the walls began to fill with adornments usually associated with a happier home than was represented when she first walked in. Pictures in various frames were evenly spaced out along almost every wall. Most of these looked professionally done, but many others had the touch of an amateur hand with a photographer’s eye. The stills were vibrant, representing a family that seemed in touch with and glorified life.
As Elisa passed on into the main room, the sudden sterility and coldness hit her like a wall of ice. White leather couches on ice-blue and white polar carpet surrounded an empty fireplace above which sat a new family portrait distinctly different from the ones in the previous room. The one obvious difference was the absence of Mrs. Girron. However, it was the complete lack of joy that permeated the atmosphere of the portrait that drew Elisa in and touched her soul. The father seemed distant and the two boys frowned austerely from beneath cowls of indignance. There were no other photos in the room, as if there was suddenly an absence of any more need to preserve memories other than the mandatory family portrait done year after year to insure a posterity that had grown harsh and worn, empty and visceral.
The butler finally led her into a room beyond the far end of the main room. She gasped, her jaw dropped to the floor as she gazed upon floor to ceiling books in a room that seemed to jump out of the castle in Beauty & The Beast. Before she could look on further, the butler motioned for her to stop and pointed to a leather couch similar to the ones in the main room. Elisa sat and waited as the butler left, hopefully to inform Mr. Alexander Girron that she had arrived. As she sat, her gaze traveled back and forth across the room, still disbelieving. She took back what she thought earlier…she could live like this, especially if it gave her access to such a splendid collection of books as this. When she was younger, it was a dream of hers to own such a library. Books had been scarce because her parents lacked the money to really purchase for her all the books she had really ever wanted. The library had been one of her haunts and in it, she fell into alternate worlds that seemed to leap at her from the pages of every story. If she really thought about it, it was the influence of books that inspired her to create and to design and build for others. She hoped that others would appreciate her artistry so that she would one day be able to build her own home. It was a dream indeed.

 
Chapter 11


Drums beat progressively louder in a hypnotic rhythm. The vibrations shake and tear at conscious thought, bearing down: a crushing weight to mind and body. Looking within, he sees himself in the distorted mirror of his reality. In the shadows of the glass, clouds bubble and froth in heated tempests. Behind the darkness, a searing light cuts thinly through the dirge. Shadows of light caress his reflection and he feels the tainted truth impress upon him. Images of a past long forgotten bring him to his knees; his hands covering his face in anguish as tears of regret and longing flood past the dam of his eyes. The warm light grew stronger and beat down faster as if in time to the beats of the drums.


Cowering upon the wasteland of his mind, he looked up to the mirror. Jagged cracks adorned the sides of the glass. Slowly, the cracks spread apart in a slow malevolent smile. He reached forth with his hand, but too late, the ground beneath him gave way to tremors. He found himself being dragged further and further away from the mirror, away from the light that illuminated the shadows. In the distance, he could hear a shattering sound. In response, the landscape of his mind splintered into a million pieces and he sank into darkness.

 
Chapter 10
With the finalized initial plans for the library under her arm and new black purse on her shoulders, Elisa straightened out her new Ann Taylor dress and stood up with a little more confidence than she woke up with. She took one last look in the mirror. Brushing back the curls from her face, she closed her eyes and sighed.
“This is it.” She said to herself and she could not help but give a short jump of excitement. “Nerve, nerve, nerve…” One last look into the mirror and she bound for the door, ready as she would ever be.
* * *

Corey was awakened early by the smell of hot pancake syrup. He looked at the clock and groaned. It was way too early. Why was Derek making breakfast? He barely touched a kitchen; usually ordered out for everything. Getting out of bed, Corey made his way downstairs. When he arrived in the kitchen, he waited patiently as his brother poked a spatula at the latest pancake on the stove.
Derek looked up and smiled. “Breakfast?”
“You never make breakfast.”
Derek shrugged and simply offered Corey a plate with a small stack of thin pancakes. Corey took it and headed to the far island in the kitchen and sat down. He suddenly realized how hungry he was and immediately devoured two of the pancakes on his plate.
“Is it good?”
Corey looked up from his plate and regarded his brother with a puzzled look. “What, exactly, are you doing this for?”
“No reason.”
“You never cook.” Corey repeated what he knew and what he was seeing contradicted that to the extreme. “Never.”
“There’s always a first time for everything.” Derek came to the table and sat down next to him. “Haven’t you ever felt like doing something different?”
“Yea.” Corey said carefully, looking at his brother’s unusually bright smile.
“That is all it is.” Derek bit down on his own pancakes.
Corey grew worried. He knew this had everything to do with their father coming home for the weekend. So far, there had been no word otherwise. What had changed was the unusually high anticipation Derek was showing this time around. Their father had come home before, although usually not for long. This case was no different so Corey could see no reason to be especially happy. And certainly no reason to be happy enough to change so dramatically like his brother had. Cooking? He never cooked! As he finished his pancakes, he looked at his brother and he could not help but ask, “Are you excited?”
“About what?”
“Dad coming home.”
Derek shrugged. “Sure. I don’t know how long he’s going to stay, but yea. Definitely.” He looked down at his pancakes. “What about you?”
“He won’t stay for long, you know.” Corey waited for a reaction that might explain what was really going on.
“I know.” Derek could not meet his eyes.
What was going on?
“I thought we would meet up with the lady who is redoing the library with dad first.” Derek began again. “Then, we might all go to lunch and take in the game this afternoon.”
What did Derek think would happen? Did he think their father would suddenly become his old self? Corey did not even know what that was really like? His world centered around Derek and, right now, Derek’s world seemed very precarious. What would happen if their father disappointed them again?
“Are you all right?” Derek asked, concern clearly written on his face.
Corey immediately smiled, took quickly, he realized as Derek’s look changed to one of bewilderment.
“Fine. I’m just fine.” Corey stood up from the table and took their empty dishes to the sink. “I’m going to go and get ready.”
Corey could feel Derek’s eyes follow him out the kitchen. Back upstairs, he looked into the mirror. He saw his own inner turmoil bubbling behind his eyes. Somehow, he needed to shut it off. He needed to show his brother that what they had was good enough. And, the first step was to believe that himself. With willpower he dared not hope to find again, he brought his smile to his eyes. He would make his brother see that the image of their father was no longer what it was; that their father had changed. But, most importantly, he would make him understand that that image of their father may never come back.

 
Chapter 9
Corey hung up his cell phone and turned to his brother. They had been having a quiet evening at home, watching television after they had gone out to dinner again. In the middle of watching the evening news, Derek’s phone had rung. When Derek went to answer, his face lighted up and stayed excited till the end of the phone call. Now, Corey was anxious as hell to know who had been on the other end, but did not really need to guess for few people would make Derek that happy.
“That was Dad!” Derek said, his face still cracked into a wide smile. “He’s coming home this weekend. He has someone coming to look over the house for some remodeling, but he is coming home. Isn’t that great?”
Corey smiled for Derek, glad that someone still had high expectations of their father. “I’m glad.”
Derek caught himself and looked into his brother’s eyes. “He WILL come.”
Corey shrugged, “I’m sure he will.” He encouraged himself to expect the best and put up the front Derek needed to see. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” Derek turned off the television with the remote and started to head out the room. “Let’s plan something to do.”
“O.K. But, let’s sleep on it first. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
Derek nodded and headed to bed as Corey sank back into the warm leather of the sofa. Staring at the ceiling, he hoped to God that their father did come that weekend. After so many disappointments, didn’t his brother realize that their father was a flake and didn’t care for them? Corey hated what it did to Derek. He could not understand why his brother would take so much. Had their father been that much different? If only he could remember more. Whatever happened, somehow, he needed to be ready should their father not come.

 
Chapter 8

To Elisa Rockmoor:

Your plans for the library have both impressed and humbled our client. He wishes to meet with you personally to finalize the initial direction of the project. If you are able to do this, please respond immediately. He is not a man to mince time.

Respectfully,

Felix Blake

Elisa read the message over and over again, not believing what she was seeing. It had only been two days since she had first devised the plans for the library and sent them to her boss. Maybe it was a mistake? In college, she was not one to impress that often; her teachers barely recognizing half of her work with comments, much less respect. Definitely a mistake. How could someone who saw her work immediately admire it and want to meet her? She read the message again and still, the implications it presented would not settle within her. She would not get excited over this. The last time she had gotten excited, her boyfriend of five years had proposed to her. Two weeks later, he had found someone at the club they frequented together and had fallen “instantly in love” as he had said. That was the end of that. Elisa had never again let her expectations get ahead of her. So, seeing this only as a momentary lapse in their reason, she wrote back with as much poise and humility she could muster.

Mr. Blake:

I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to meet with our client. I have since revised some of the initial plans. I will bring these along with me when we meet. What will be the most convenient time for our client?

Sincerely,
Elisa Rockmoor

As she pressed send her heart leapt and she cursed at herself for letting the excitement get to her. She knew what she had to do. In minutes, she was out the door, headed for the downtown shops to pick out a new outfit for her meeting.

 
Chapter 7
Derek awoke early the next morning, the preoccupation with his father’s absence shoved into the back of his mind. When he was ready, he climbed downstairs into the kitchen and found Corey already sitting at the table eating cereal in his prep school uniform, a white polo with dress-khakis, his book-bag and camera on the edge of the table ready to go. When his brother looked up and saw him, a sad smile passed his eyes, but was almost immediately covered by a slap-happy grin and a “good-morning” wave.
Derek purposely ignored Corey’s blatant attempt at covering up something that was bothering him. However, he had learned of late not to push his younger brother. In the last year, Corey had become moodier, an air of discontent and general melancholy always hung about him. Derek knew that some of it had to do with the fact that their father was never home. If it was important, Corey usually spoke up in time. So, Derek let it go and smiled back as he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and poured his own bowl of cereal.