One Perfect Moment. A.C. ArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
off the air-conditioning and rolled down the front windows, inhaling deeply the warm, fresh air. In the rearview mirror, looking as if they were somehow following her, were the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ava figured they were just as majestic and beautiful up close as they were from this distance.
She wished this excursion would allow time for a hiking trip along some of the famous trails she’d read about during her research of the town. But she was on a tight schedule. Jenner wanted a thirteen-episode outline by Halloween—six weeks from now—and final consent contracts signed by each of the Taylor sextuplets no later than Thanksgiving. This would keep them on schedule for shooting to begin in January. Ava tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused her mind once more on the plan she’d come up with.
Grayson Taylor was the CEO of Taylor Electronics and had recently returned to Temptation, found a wife with twins and renovated the old Victorian house where the original Taylor family had lived thirty years ago. Just three weeks ago, Grayson and his wife, Morgan, had welcomed a second set of twins, giving them a total of four children. Ava couldn’t imagine taking care of anyone but herself—four kids would definitely be out of her league. Grayson and his family would be the key to getting all the siblings on board. She’d concluded that because, as the oldest, he also seemed to be the spokesperson for the Taylor sextuplets.
She made a right turn that landed her on a dirt road and was just about to check her GPS when her phone rang. It was on the console, connected to the charger, and she pressed the button to answer without looking at the screen. She was more concerned with whether or not she’d taken a wrong turn.
“You said you were going to call me back. You didn’t. I despise lies, Ava. You know that.”
Ava rolled her eyes and silently chastised herself for not checking her caller ID before answering.
“Hi, Mom. I’m in the car,” Ava replied because she knew her mother hated her talking on the phone while driving—even if Ava used a Bluetooth.
“Then why are you answering the phone?” Eleanor immediately asked.
Ava smiled.
“I didn’t want to ignore your call. Listen, I should be at the bed-and-breakfast in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get settled in.”
“Bed-and-breakfast? Where are you? And who stays in a bed-and-breakfast when there are perfectly acceptable hotels throughout the world?”
Not Eleanor Cannon, that was for sure. Her mother would only stay in the best hotels, drive the fanciest cars, pay a small fortune for the most stylish clothes, and buy whatever else her inherited fortune would allow. Everything her mother did was done with style and grace, while Ava had adopted a more frugal lifestyle that drove Eleanor insane.
“I’m on a research assignment. I’ll give you a call with more details once I’m settled.”
Her mother would want the name of the bed-and-breakfast and a landline number to reach Ava in case cell service suddenly went down worldwide. Being an only child hadn’t been easy for Ava. In the past six years since Ava’s father’s unexpected death Eleanor had become even more overbearing.
“That will be fine. I’ll wait for your call. Drive safely,” Eleanor said before disconnecting.
Ava took that to mean she’d better call her mother back, or Eleanor might send out the cavalry to look for her.
Tossing the headset onto the seat, Ava returned her attention to the GPS. The directions took her down a long cobblestoned street. Hearty mums stuffed in big black pots circled each lamppost. Cute little storefronts had twinkle lights or harvest baskets, pumpkins and gourds decorating their slice of the sidewalk. People moved about, walking slowly and staring at the decorations or what the store had advertised in their front windows, Ava couldn’t tell which. What she saw on their faces, however, was, without a doubt, contentment.
She drove the remaining ten minutes until making the final turn to her destination. The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial house with black shutters, nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. It looked like something straight out of Leave It to Beaver or one of those other old black-and-white family shows. Ava favored nostalgic television over today’s modern reality. But while recognizing the need to grow and accept change, she still tried to bring a sense of those old-time family values and simplicity into her writing. A fact, she hated to admit, that would come in handy for this project.
She parked the car and reached over to grab her phone and purse before stepping out. She traveled light, with only one huge duffel bag and her laptop, which she retrieved from the back seat before locking the car and heading up the brick walkway toward the house.
The bed-and-breakfast looked exactly as it had in the brochure, including the chubby shrubs lined up along the perimeter with picture-perfect precision. Ava smiled at the pair of stone bulldog statues guarding the premises as she stepped up onto the porch. Opening the door, she walked inside and was further warmed by the historic charm that continued. Scuffed wood-planked floors, and emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretched throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossy cherrywood railing.
She liked it here. Liked the ambience and was glad she’d selected this brochure from the three Saraya, her assistant, had given her. The research trip had been quickly planned once she’d decided to go through with the project. And once that decision was made, Ava had known exactly how she wanted to approach it—straight through the heart.
The Taylors had loved this town and the people who lived here. If Ava were going to write this show, she had to get to know the people here. What they liked, how they lived, what they feared, all of it. Then she’d tackle the Taylor sextuplets.
“Well, hello, ma’am. Welcome to Sunnydale,” an older gentleman said.
He stood behind the front desk—a continuation of the cherrywood, with a black marble top. There was a large fresh flower arrangement toward the end of the desk, closest to the wall, along with a shiny gold bell and a placard on the other end that explained all the forms of payment accepted.
“Hello,” Ava replied. “I have a reservation. My name is Ava Cannon.”
The man never even looked at the computer sitting on the part of the desk that faced a bay window. Instead he stood and came around until he was directly in front of her. He extended his hand and gave a toothy grin.
“I’m Otis,” he said. “Welcome to Sunnydale and to Temptation.”
“Ah, thank you,” Ava said and shook his hand.
He was still holding her hand seconds later when a younger man entered the lobby area.
“The paint’s still wet, but the job’s done, Mr. Otis. I have to head back out to Harper’s place, but just let Nana Lou know we’ll be sending her an invoice in the mail,” the second man said.
There was a big contrast between the two men, and Ava, always one to pay attention to the details, picked up on it immediately. The first man, the older one who had just been called Mr. Otis, wore dark gray pants that were baggy on his slim frame. Black suspenders helped to keep the pants from falling down, and his short-sleeved light blue dress shirt was wrinkled, with a floral trimmed handkerchief in his breast pocket. His skin was a very weathered almond complexion, and his hair—what was left of it—was short, gray and curled close to his scalp.
The second man was much younger, probably in his early to mid-twenties. He was at least six feet tall with a short bush of brown hair, and he wore faded jeans and a plaid shirt with drops of paint all over it.
“Pardon me,” the younger guy said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your check-in.”
They would know instantly that she wasn’t from Temptation, and it had nothing to do with the cream-colored pantsuit she was wearing. Ava had left the jacket to the suit on the back seat of the rental car so that her arms were bare in the peach tank top she wore. Her shoes were comfortable leather flats,