Rochelle Alers - Sweet Silver Bells

After brewing a cup of coffee, she unpacked, putting everything away, then stepped into the Jacuzzi for a leisurely soak. The hands on the clock on the bathroom’s vanity had inched closer to eight-fifteen when she stepped out of the tub. At eight forty-five she entered the restaurant off the hotel lobby, the hostess greeting her with a friendly smile.

“Good morning, ma’am. Are you a guest?”

Crystal nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“What is your room number?”

“I’m in penthouse two.”

The hostess punched several keys on a computer. “Ms. Eaton?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I have an appointment to meet Mr. Beaumont here at nine.”

“Ms. Eaton, I don’t know if anyone told you, but as an elite guest you’ll take your meals in the private dining room. Mr. Beaumont will meet you there.” The young woman motioned to a passing waiter. “Patrick, please escort Ms. Eaton to Mr. Beaumont’s table.”

Crystal followed the waiter to the rear of the restaurant and to a door with a plaque reading Elite Hotel Guests Only. The space was half the size of the restaurant for other hotel guests and the general public, and furnished in the manner of a formal dining room with cloth-covered tables and place settings of china, silver and crystal. Classical music flowed from hidden speakers as waitstaff moved silently, efficiently picking up and setting down dishes.

She thanked the waiter when he pulled out a chair at a table in an alcove, seating her at the same time her cell phone chimed softly. Reaching into her handbag, Crystal retrieved the phone and glanced at the display. It was Algernon. Tapping in her pass code, she answered the call.

“Good morning, Al.”

“Crystal. I’m glad I reached you. I rang your room, but it went directly to voice mail. I’m on my way to the airport to catch a flight to Vancouver. My daughter was injured on a movie set, and even though I’m told it isn’t serious, I need to see her. I’m not certain when I’ll be back, but I’ll keep you updated. I’m sorry you had to come and—”

“Please don’t apologize,” Crystal said, interrupting him. “Take care of your daughter and don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you get back. The last time I was in Charleston I didn’t get to do much sightseeing, so I intend to tour the city until you return.”

“Thanks, Crystal, for being so understanding.”

“Have a safe flight and I’ll see you when you get back.”

She ended the call, exhaling an audible sigh. Although anxious to see the restored buildings, Crystal also understood an unexpected personal predicament. And taking care of your family always took precedence over everything. There were Eatons living in different parts of the country, but whenever there was a significant occasion, they all came together as one whether it in sickness, tragedy, marriage or a new birth.

She’d attended so many weddings over the years Crystal needed a scorecard to document which first cousin had married whom. It began with Belinda marrying her brother-in-law sports attorney/agent, Griffin Rice. Belinda and Griffin had become guardians of their twin nieces after the death of their parents, who were Belinda’s sister and Griffin’s brother. Belinda made Griffin a biological father for the first time after giving birth to a baby boy.

The marriage bug then bit Belinda’s brother, Myles, when he married his ex-fiancée after a ten-year separation. Myles hadn’t known Zabrina was pregnant with his son, because she’d been blackmailed into marrying another man. They added to another generation of Eatons with a daughter.

Myles and Belinda’s sister Chandra married celebrated playwright Preston Tucker, and they were now the parents of a daughter, and Xavier and his wife, Selena, also had a daughter. All the Eatons were wagering whether Denise and Mia and their husbands would have boys once they decided to increase their family, because it looked as if girls were outnumbering boys in the latest generation of Eatons.

Crystal still did not picture herself a wife or a mother. The closest she’d come to a committed relationship was when she lived with a man after enrolling in graduate school. Her parents disapproved of her living or shacking up with a man, because they claimed they’d raised her better than that.

Jasmine lamented, why would the man want to buy the cow when he could get the milk free? Her comeback was that she didn’t want to be bought, because her goals did not include becoming a wife.

Her relationship with Brian worked well; he also didn’t want to marry or father children. As a child he’d been physically abused by his parents, spent years in foster care and feared he would turn out like them. He and Crystal had lived together for three years before Brian was offered a teaching position at a Los Angeles college. Crystal encouraged him to accept the position, and after graduating she gave up their miniscule New York City Greenwich Village studio apartment and moved back to Florida.

She lived with her mother until she secured employment with a Miami-based design firm. Once she transferred to their Fort Lauderdale office, she purchased a two-bedroom condo in a gated community.

Living alone was a wake-up call that she was in complete control of her life and future.

She beckoned a waiter as he finished filling a water goblet at a nearby table. “Is it possible for me to change tables? Mr. Beaumont won’t be joining me.” Crystal didn’t want to sit in the grotto-inspired alcove alone.

The waiter glanced around the room. “There’s an empty table near the window.”

Crystal nodded. “I’ll take it.”

It wasn’t until she was seated near a wall of glass that she saw her penthouse neighbor. Joseph sat at a table several feet away. Their eyes met and she returned his open, friendly smile with one of her own.

“Good morning, neighbor,” Joseph said in greeting.

Her smile grew wider. “Same to you, neighbor.”

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.”

Joseph stared boldly at the woman, who’d exchanged her jeans and sweater for a navy blue pantsuit and white silk blouse. A light covering of makeup enhanced her best features: eyes and mouth. His gaze lingered on Crystal’s flawless dark complexion. He took a quick glance at her hands. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that still didn’t mean she wasn’t married or involved with someone.

His interest in the woman occupying the neighboring penthouse was a reminder of how, for the past two years, his life had not been his own to control. He hadn’t found time to embark on another relationship since his breakup with Kiara, but now that he was stateside his days and nights were more predictable.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked Crystal.

“No, I’m not. Why?”

“I see several people waiting for tables, and if we sit together, it would free up one for them.”

Crystal’s gaze shifted from Joseph’s deeply tanned face to the couples standing at the entrance. She was seated at a table for two while he sat at a table seating four. “You may sit with me.”

As he moved over to sit opposite her, Crystal inhaled the subtle scent of his masculine cologne. It was if she were seeing Joseph for the first time. Last night she hadn’t realized he was so tall. She was five-nine in her bare feet, and estimated he had to be at least three or even four inches above the six-foot mark. He was casually dressed in relaxed jeans, black Timberland boots and a white button-down shirt, opened at the collar under a navy blue blazer.

The hint of a smile softened her mouth. “I see you’re Greek.”

Attractive lines fanned out around his large dark eyes when he smiled. “Alpha Phi Alpha,” he said proudly, glancing at his belt buckle with the Greek alphabet. “Are you also Greek?”