Dreaming Eli Read online

  Dreaming Eli

  by

  JoMarie DeGioia

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Bailey Park Publishing at Smashwords

  Copyright © JoMarie DeGioia 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  ISBN: 978-1-944181-07-9

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Discover other books by JoMarie DeGioia

  Connect with me online

  Chapter 1

  Chapman Financial, Boston

  Elijah Graham turned his chair to face the mammoth expanse of glass behind his desk. He could only see sky from his vantage point, that and the other high rises bracketing Bill Chapman’s monument to himself. He couldn’t see the streets far below, but even if he could they wouldn’t be the streets he’d known growing up. No. This place was far from that hell, thank God. There were even trees lining the streets down there, their leaves just starting to turn.

  As the top guy in Sales and Account Retention at Chapman, Eli had his finger on the pulse of their clients’ needs and wants. He could hone in on their desires, and say just what was necessary to lock them down and close the deal. Being in and out of foster homes since he was three years old, he knew all about speaking and acting in just the perfect way to fit in. To please. To stay, although that last one never quite seemed to stick.

  “Eli,” Bill Chapman boomed, stalking into Eli’s office.

  Eli was used to his brusqueness. Bill never gave more than a terse greeting, and Eli often wondered if there was any softness beneath the man’s gruff exterior.

  “Good morning, Bill.” Eli turned in his chair to face his employer and mentor. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need you, Eli.”

  Eli’s brows rose. “For?”

  “I need you to go back down to Cypress Corners.”

  Cypress Corners, located in Central Florida, was one of Chapman’s most successful projects. He’d been impressed during his short visit there back in the spring. A sprawling property of ten thousand acres featuring upscale retail, state-of-the-art homes and an award-winning golf course, it was also the home of Bill’s children. The guy had three sons and a daughter who all fled to Florida and never came back.

  Eli sat back, taking in the man’s appearance from head to toe. Bill was tall and broad and still hearty at his age. He shared his thick, dark hair and his build with his sons. When Eli had met the eldest, Rick, he’d seen the stamp of a Chapman on his face. The guy’s brothers might be a bit more laid back than the Sales Director of Cypress Corners, but Rick had been as cordial to Eli as Jake and Ben Chapman had been when he’d visited. They’d never let him get too close, though. The tours he’d taken with Rick’s sales staff had been decidedly Chapman-free.

  “I know Rick was a little prickly when you and Derek were down there in April,” Bill said, settling into the chair across from him.

  True, Rick had seemed a little suspicious of Eli’s motives for coming to the development, but the tale wasn’t his to tell.

  Eli brushed off his comment with a smile. “He was very accommodating.”

  The statement was true. Rick had generously arranged the different tours he and Derek took—the sales pitch, the eco-tours, the new construction. And while legal eagle Derek had been busy calculating the risks and liabilities of what Chapman was planning down in Central Florida, Eli chose to focus on the scenery.

  The place was a contradiction. That was for sure. Cypress Corners differed from most pricey developments Eli had visited. Championship golf course, boutiques and shops and custom homes were bracketed by conservation areas set aside for native plants and wildlife. Seventy percent was set aside, to be exact. It was different, but Eli had been drawn to the wild parts of Cypress as much as the civilized parts of the village. Not to mention the hot women that seemed to populate the place. Damn.

  “Still,” Bill went on. “I need you to get down there right away. Development is underway on the east side of the property, the planning anyway. I want Chapman to get a foothold there before another investor can even think of muscling in.”

  “Muscling in?” Eli quirked a smile at him. “What, are we going to the mattresses?”

  Bill barked out a laugh. “Yes, I suppose I do sound like something from an old gangster movie.”

  Eli nodded. “Yeah, see,” he said out the side of his mouth in a bad New York accent.

  Bill smiled, losing some of the rigidity that always clung to him. This was Eli’s gift, saying or doing whatever it took to get the job done. He was a terminal people-pleaser, but he preferred to think of himself as a survivor.

  “Is this the Active Adult development?” he asked.

  “Among other things.”

  “Such as?”

  “There will be retail out that way as well,” Bill said. “Upscale and plentiful, to satisfy folks happily spending their children’s inheritance.”

  Eli mentally shrugged off the absent pang he felt at Bill’s words. He had no one to leave him a damn thing, let alone spend it before he could get his hands on it.

  He leaned forward. “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

  “Get down there and get in at the Sales Center. I know Rick would like to see you come on board.”

  Eli doubted that. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. When I was down there for Raffaella’s christening last month, I mentioned it to him.”

  “I bet that went over big with Ben and Tammy. Talking business at their celebration.”

  Bill waved a hand. “They’re so over the moon for that adorable little ravioli they barely noticed.”

  The little ravioli. Bill’s new granddaughter. That made two grandchildren for Bill, and Eli knew another one was on the way. The guy didn’t see the family he had very often. Eli didn’t know what had gone down between Bill and his kids, but Eli wouldn’t break the tenuous connection he had here to risk the fallout if he started asking personal questions.

  “How long do you need me to be down there?”

  “Let’s leave it open-ended, Eli. I trust you can handle anything that might come up here or at our other properties from Cypress?”

  “Of course,” Eli said. “Is Derek coming with me this time?”

  Bill shook his head. “No. I need him for some contract work up here in Boston.”

  Eli was almost relieved that Derek wouldn’t come along. The guy was a little intense, and Eli had gotten tired of playing sweetness and light to offset his gloom and doom. Real fast.

  “When do I leave?”

  Bill’s blue eyes lit up. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Relief nearly swamped him as he ate up the simply-worded praise. He flashed a bright smile.

  “Always.”

  That settled, they discussed the details of Eli’s upcoming return to Cypress Corners.

  ***

  Cypress Corners, Florida

  “Caroline!
Time for dinner!”

  Caroline Richmond shifted on the couch, holding the nubby green accent pillow over her face. Her mother’s voice funneled up the steep staircase to rattle Caro’s front door. Why couldn’t her mother remember that Caro wasn’t a teenage girl but a woman of twenty-seven? She owned her own business, for God’s sake.

  Grumbling, she sat up and rubbed her hands over her face. A glance at her phone showed her it was nearly six o’clock. Waking up at the butt-crack of dawn to bake enough treats to fill the cases of her shop made her afternoon naps a necessary evil. Still, she often awoke disoriented. Her mother’s insistent voice didn’t help her wake gently today. That was for sure.

  True, she did still live under her parents’ roof. Technically, at least. On days like this, when her mother made her feel like she was fourteen? She clung to the technicality until her knuckles cracked.

  Her apartment above the oversized, three-car garage was a one-bedroom. It featured a kitchen trimmed with light granite and scaled-down stainless steel appliances. The living room shared the space with the kitchen, leaving her just enough room for her comfy couch and a TV. It was comfortable and pretty spacious for what it was, and the slanted ceilings gave it character.

  If she kept the plantation shutters closed on the windows that overlooked her parents’ impeccably-landscaped back yard and pool, she could almost imagine she lived there completely autonomously. That the gorgeous view of the main lakeshore across the street was hers alone.

  “Caroline!”

  She rolled her eyes and stood. Apparently there would be no time for fantasies this evening. She shoved her feet into her Keds and grabbed her cell phone. “Coming!”

  She winced. Jeez, she sounded like a fourteen-year-old now. She went into her pretty marble-lined bathroom off the living area and peered into the mirror. Her little nap had given her customary ponytail a decided slant. She pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and ran a brush through her waves, taking a lusty yawn. A splash of cool water on her face and she was ready for whatever Suzy-Homemaker meal her mother was serving in the main house.

  Dawn Richmond was on a hearty home-cookin’ kick lately. Caro figured the woman watched way too much of that show where the woman lived on a ranch and cooked tons of food for her brood. Her mother had no brood left in the house but Caro, not that it seemed to matter. That thought caused the usual conflicting emotions of guilt and resentment to trickle through her.

  She headed down the stairwell and outside to follow the short path toward the back of her parents’ house. At least her place had its own entrance. Her sneakers didn’t make a sound on the flagstone path and when she walked through the opened French doors to the kitchen she found her mother humming as she ladled vegetables over a hearty-looking pot roast. She might act like she was cooking for ranch hands but with her still-trim figure and neat country-club-casual clothes she looked more Hamptons than Midlands.

  “Pot roast, Mom?” she asked, shutting the doors to leave the heat outside. “It’s September. In Florida.”

  Her mother nodded as she added more carrots and potatoes to the serving dish. “Yes, Caroline. I’m aware of that.” Her gaze flicked over her from head to toe. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  Caro wore her usual, capris and a T-shirt. She’d changed her top when she’d gotten home from work, and tonight’s shirt was in a vintage red and one of her favorites. “What’s the right answer to that question, Mom?”

  Her mother returned her attention to the big hunk of braised beef. Caro crossed to the stainless fridge, it looked like the big daddy of the one in her apartment, and grabbed a diet soda. “You’ve made a lot, too. Are we expecting someone?”

  Her mother froze before giving her a small smile. “Why, yes we are!”

  Dread curled in Caro’s belly. “Who?”

  “I invited the golf pro, Caroline. Your father just raves about him.”

  “And what about him, exactly?” As if Caro couldn’t guess.

  Her mother placed the now-empty pot in the deep sink and wiped her hand on a perfectly-pressed dish towel. Caro knew the woman was stalling. She took in another breath and slowly let it out. Thank God for yoga.

  “What about him, Mom?”

  “He’s recently divorced, is all. The poor man finds himself adrift. He could use a nice, home-cooked meal.”

  The golf pro. Kent something-or-other. He came into the bakery now and again. Tall guy, with a roving eye and wandering hands, if her friend Becky was being truthful.

  “He dated Becky last month,” Caro said. “Just how recent was his divorce?”

  Her mother’s cheeks reddened and Caro had her answer. “He is on his own now, Caroline. That’s all I know.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  Dawn narrowed her eyes on her. “Are you comparing me to Charlotte Fairfax, dear?”

  Caro gave her a practiced shrug. “I’m just sayin’.”

  Her mother braced her hands on her hips. “I don’t gossip.”

  “Lettie doesn’t gossip, Mom. Not exactly, anyway.”

  Her mother’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “Well, Lettie did tell me that his little fling with Becky from the Cypress Institute was over now.”

  “His little fling?” Caro snorted. “Yeah, it’s over. Becky kicked him to the curb when she found out his divorce wasn’t final yet.”

  Her mother didn’t say anything to that. She just started to set the table in the dining nook. Apparently they would share a casual meal with Kent the slime ball. Great.

  “Just grab the bread basket, would you?” her mother asked. “The sourdough should be heated through.”

  Caro bit her tongue as she helped her mother with what would surely be yet another set-up for their little failure-to-launch. Her two brothers and one sister, all much older than Caro, were married and settled throughout Central Florida. A law professor and two lawyers in their father’s firm, her siblings were successful and very sweet to their little sister. Their parents’ later-life surprise. At least they didn’t meddle in her love life.

  “I’m not interested in Kent, Mom.”

  “Why not?” her father boomed as he came in through the door from the garage. “He’s a guy with prospects, Caroline.”

  Caro faced her father, keeping her expression even. “Prospects, Dad?”

  Her father shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, leaning in to give her mother’s cheek and then hers a kiss. “He’s in play, Caroline. In demand.”

  Caro rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s very skilled at showing bored housewives how to hit a little white ball into a hole.”

  “Caroline!” her mother scolded. “He’ll be here soon. You will behave.”

  She was about to tell her mother just how she planned to behave in the presence of Kent and his prospects when her phone buzzed. Sliding it out of her pocket, she saw that Becky sent her a text.

  Wings and a game of pool?

  Caro grinned at the screen. Yeah, an uncomplicated Friday night dinner with her friend at the End Zone in St. Cloud was just the escape she needed. She texted back in the affirmative and furrowed her brows.

  “Mom. Dad. I have to meet Becky tonight. She’s really broken-up over Kent, and I don’t feel right having dinner with him.”

  Her parents stared at her, identical expressions of doubt and dismay on their faces.

  “Caroline, your mother planned this dinner for you.”

  “I know, Dad.” Caro took in another cleansing breath before continuing. “I don’t need this dinner. I don’t need a set-up and I sure as heck don’t need Kent.”

  They stood there, her mother looking a little sad now. Caro kissed them both on the cheek and smiled.

  “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me, Dad. The dinner smells delicious, Mom. I’m sure Kent will appreciate all of your hard work.”

  After a long pause, her father gave a firm nod. “Go, sweetheart.”

  She knew he indulged her, as her mother often did, but she took the
escape his simple command gave her. There was no way she was running into Kent right now so she dashed out of the house the back way, got into her bright green mini Cooper, and headed to St. Cloud. The city was about ten minutes to the west of Cypress, and she used the time and distance to consider her narrow escape.

  She wouldn’t stay out late tonight. Four o’clock came early in the morning, after all. Even on a Saturday. But she would have wings and maybe a beer, and shoot a couple of games of pool as she put her parents’ latest attempt to run her life out of her mind. She was running her own life, thank you very much. Or at least, most of it.

  Now if she could just figure out how to run the rest of it.

  The sports bar in St. Cloud was crowded, which wasn’t a big surprise for a Friday night. She parked her car between a chrome-encrusted Harley and a pickup truck raised high enough that she could have parked her mini underneath it. She chose to ignore the pair of metal balls dangling off the rear of the truck as she grabbed her bag and clicked her remote to lock her car.

  “Hey, there!” Becky grinned as she waved Caro over to where she sat at a high two-top table set not far from the digital jukebox.

  Caro smiled and felt the tension from her recent interaction with her parents drop off of her shoulders.

  “Hey, Becky.” She stepped up and sat in the vacant chair. “Oh, I need this.”

  “Do I want to know?” Becky asked, sipping what looked like a mojito.

  Caro gave a dramatic shiver and raised her hand to signal a server.

  A perky woman with a swinging ponytail bounced over.

  “Pumpkin ale, if you’ve got it,” Caro told her.

  “Yep!” the server chirped as she set a cocktail napkin on the table. “Bottle or tap?”

  “Tap, thanks.” She placed her bag over the back of her chair and sighed. “Maybe I should have ordered a bottle. Portion control.”

  “Oh, relax,” Becky said. “I’ve never seen you drink more than one or two beers anyway.”

  “True.” Caro blew out a breath. “My parents tried to set me up with Kent.”

  Becky’s blue eyes went round. “That slime ball? Seriously?”

  “No worries. I shut that down. Even if he was remotely my type, I’d never do that to you.”