Love Restored

By Mary L. Briggs

A forgotten romance haunts Fairlight’s historic opera house...and a new one struggles to grow amidst its renovation. Interior designer Kate doesn’t expect to find love among the musty corridors of Drummond Hall. But she’s drawn to handsome architect, Paul Lucas. Can he open his heart, or will past mistakes keep their love buried like the secrets of the opera house?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary L. Briggs
• Release date: Jan 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466078567

Mary L. Briggs

Mary L. Briggs is a wife, mother, and registered nurse. She enjoys writing inspirational fiction and is also a free-lance writer. She has had two romance stories and one mini-mystery published in Woman's World Magazine. She enjoys reading, writing, studying American history, cooking, quilting, herb gardening, and crafting. Mary lives in a cordwood home in the Ouachita Mountains with her husband and two daughters. She also enjoys the company of five cats, a German Shepherd/Border Collie dog, and a flock of chickens.

Book preview

Love Restored

By Mary L. Briggs

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Mary L. Briggs

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

It was a fairytale come true

At least that’s what the brochure, nestled inside Kate Hollister’s shoulder bag promised. Walking down the Main Street of Fairlight, Missouri, she almost believed those words were true. A quaint Victorian village with cozy shops and friendly citizens, Fairlight promised at first glance to be the storybook town she longed for. After years of traveling around–first with her architect father and then in her own career–Kate was more than ready to settle down and make a home of her own.

Breathing deeply, she reveled in the clean, crisp air of early autumn. In exactly thirty minutes, she would start her new job as the historical interior designer for Fairlight’s opera house. But right now, all she could think about was getting a fresh cup of coffee.

I’ll have the Almond Toffee Crunch, she told the man behind the counter at the Crescent Moon Café. The piping hot pastries in the display case made her mouth water, but she resisted. Sticky hands wouldn’t be the best way to greet her new boss.

The exotic flavored coffee teased her nose as she made her way to the exit. Her lips poised for that first taste, she swung open the door–smack into a man wearing a red and black flannel check shirt. Time seemed to slow as the cup crumpled in her hand, the dark liquid splashing onto the front of the man’s shirt and seeping deep into the material.

He quickly pulled the wet area away from his skin, uttering a sharp Whoa!

Kate dropped the paper cup and began dabbing the liquid with her napkin, even as the victim of her clumsiness calmly assured her, It’s fine, really, it’s okay. Don’t bother.

Strong, capable fingers wrapped around her furiously scrubbing hand, and she gazed into the intense eyes of a ruggedly handsome stranger. His mouth was curved in a lopsided smile that seemed friendly and just a little amused.

I’m so, so sorry, Kate stammered. Gold-colored hair, a clear cut jaw, and blue eyes that danced with good-natured mischief was not the type of man she expected to see, based on her glimpse of faded jeans and scuffed boots.

Laughing, he glanced down at the well-worn clothes. Well, it’s not like you’ve done me any harm.

At least let me buy your coffee, she pleaded, trying hard to ignore the warmth spreading across her cheeks. Stop it, Kate! A grown woman, supposedly confident and capable, shouldn’t be rendered into a babbling child by spilled coffee.

He fetched her empty Styrofoam cup from the ground. I should buy yours. It was my fault you spilled it. I should have seen you coming. Guess I was lost in thought.

She almost said me too, then reminded herself she barely knew this man. A glimpse of her watch told her she was in danger of making yet another bumble if she didn’t hurry. I should really be getting to work. It’s my first day and I don’t want to be late.

He grinned. First day, huh? Well, you better get a move on then. See you around.

Hopefully under better circumstances. A thought she kept to herself as she hurried down the sidewalk, praying fervently she would make it to work on time.

***

Getting inside Drummond Hall was a little like navigating an obstacle course. Kate wove carefully between the rows of scaffolding, clutching her shoulder bag close to her side. The echoing of numerous saws and drills made it difficult to hear anything else, and she barely understood the warning a worker shouted from directly above her head.

Watch out, Miss!

Kate jumped as a large crystal chandelier and chunks of plaster smashed on the floor in front of her feet, sending a cloud of white dust swirling into the air. Her pulse pounding like a rainstorm on a tin roof, she covered her nose and mouth and fought back the scream that had rushed up her throat.

Are you okay down there?

She looked up and saw a man in coveralls perched atop a set of scaffolding, wiring that once held the elegant chandelier dangled freely from the ceiling. Incapable of making a verbal response, she nodded her head, her hand still plastered over her mouth.

Glancing at her feet, she saw her new brown pumps covered with a white film. Oh, Lord, why did this have to happen? And the accident at the coffee shop too. Are you trying to tell me something?

Are you all right, ma’am?

A cool, masculine voice summoned her back to reality. She turned and faced a tall man in a business suit, his wavy chestnut hair dotted with specks of plaster. Self-consciously, she raised a hand to check her own auburn tresses for debris.

His smile exuded success and the white dusting on his ebony suit and flakes of plaster on his flawless features gave the impression he was a wayward groom from atop a frosted wedding cake.

She smiled and raised her voice to compensate for the noise surrounding them. I seem to have escaped uninjured. I’m Kate Hollister. And you must be Mr. West.

It was a fairly safe assumption. Brenton West, the head of the board of directors for Drummond Hall, had agreed to meet Kate at the job site by nine o’clock.

He extended a friendly hand That’s right. And, please, Miss Hollister, call me Brent. All my friends do.

She took his hand. And please call me Kate.

I really must apologize for the mess. He made a sweeping motion with his arm, taking in the maze of scaffolding, and fresh shower of plaster. We’ve got a long ways to go before the opera house is everything we want it to be. Of course, he beamed, now that you’re here, things will change. Paul Lucas assured us that your presence will be invaluable to this project.

Kate blushed. The architect seemed to have been very generous with his praise. That’s kind of Mr. Lucas. Of course, we’ve never actually met, except through emails.

Well, you’ll be able to thank him personally in a few minutes.

You mean he’s here? Surprise flooded through her. Most of the architects I’ve collaborated with worked strictly from their offices.

Brent shook his head. Not Lucas. He’s a hands-on kind of architect. He wants to make sure the work gets done right. He’s been here on the job from day one.

That shouldn’t be a surprise. His dedication for restoring the treasures of the past shone through every one of the lines in those emails he had sent.

So, Kate, are you ready for the tour?

Leaving behind the noise and confusion of the lobby, Brent guided Kate into the auditorium, where the normally dim atmosphere was set ablaze by the extra lighting strung up for construction purposes.

She sucked in a deep breath. It’s even more beautiful than the photos Mr. Lucas sent to me.

Similar to the situation in the lobby, the domed ceiling was beginning to crumble, leaving gaping holes in its wake. The intricate molding, though cracked and broken in places, looked as if part of its restoration was beginning. She found herself itching to duplicate its peeling paint and faded glory.

The buzz of a skill saw issued from the stage, drawing their attention. Lucas is working up there, Brent told her, starting toward the front of the auditorium.

Crisscrossing through power tools and cast-off planks, she arrived several moments after Brent, who spoke briefly to a man in a hardhat. Most of the stage floor, ripped out for replacement, was now more than half finished. Kate studied her surroundings, her brow furrowing in concentration as she considered the different textures she would need to reproduce the room to its original splendor.

Lucas! Brenton West shouted over the din of a nearby table saw.

Kate’s heart plunged as a tall man turned and pulled a hardhat from his sandy head. Her eyes locked onto the dark stain covering the front of his shirt. His red and black checked flannel shirt.

Was it too much to hope there was more than one ruggedly handsome man running around Fairlight with a coffee stained flannel shirt? Feeling warmth escalating in her cheeks, she steeled herself for another encounter with the stranger from the coffee shop.

Arms folded, the man called Lucas came to a halt in front of them, his mouth forming a wide grin. Oblivious, Brent plunged on with the introductions. Paul Lucas, this is Kate Hollister, our new historical renovator.

When he spoke, his voice was laden with amusement. Miss Hollister and I have already met. In fact, you might say she made a lasting impression on me.

She was about to protest this sarcastic remark when she accidentally met the warm gaze of his friendly blue eyes. His smile was contagious, and she found herself laughing in spite of the accusation.

Brent gazed back and forth between them, his confused expression demanding an explanation for the private joke.

Paul cleared his throat and arranged his features into a serious expression. Miss Hollister and I just had a chance meeting at the coffee shop, that’s all. I didn’t realize who she was.

Kate took the calloused hand he offered in greeting, fully aware of the intensity of his blue gaze. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Lucas. The work you’ve done here is quite impressive.

He shook his head. It’s not my skill, Kate. We’re just more or less copying the talent of the original builder. And, I must say, whoever he was, his work was brilliant.

Brent interjected, From what you’ve told me, Kate is quite gifted herself. She’s one of the best in her field. It will be her touch that makes the difference to this old building.

Feeling another blush coming on, Kate protested. I’m afraid you’re overestimating my talent. After all, you haven’t seen the finished product.

The friendly exchange was interrupted by the shrill jingle of Brent’s cell phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and headed for the seating area. Be right back, he called over his shoulder.

Paul resumed their conversation. So, what do you think of our little town, so far?

It’s charming, she replied, gazing into his cobalt blue eyes. It’s a nice change from the bustle of San Francisco.

His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Now that’s a city with great architecture. I worked there for several years."

Kate arched her eyebrows. You never mentioned that in your emails.

His mouth curved into a sheepish smile. I know. But that’s how I really became so familiar with your work. I think my favorite was the lobby in the Wells Hotel, with the wallpaper and restored glass windows in the foyer. I read how you slowly pieced together the exact pattern of the wallpaper and had it reproduced.

A wave of surprise and pleasure washed over her. The work on the tiny hotel was all but forgotten, even in her recent interview in Vintage World Décor .

Yeah, he continued. And, I toured the Landers estate after it opened as a museum. You did a remarkable job with the whole thing. It was like stepping back in time. The moment I heard they were looking for someone to do the interior design on this place, I thought of you. But, I have to say, I was surprised when they said you were really coming.

Caught off guard, she smiled at his remark. In truth, she was searching for a new project, when news of Drummond Hall reached her e-mail. It’s really a blessing to get this job, she confessed. I need to thank you for recommending me.

We’re just glad you agreed to come. The first consultant we considered wasn’t nearly as qualified. I saw samples of his work in the local bank–let’s just say it needed improvement.

This looks more challenging than anything I’ve ever done. Kate let her eyes wander around the decrepit auditorium. Let’s just hope my work doesn’t disappoint.

He gestured toward the waiting stage. Wanna come up? The floorboards will hold, I promise. And I want you to see the big picture of the performance hall work before you really get started.

Sure. Kate followed him up the worn steps to the stage’s battered planks. He signaled for a nearby worker to shut off the noisy skill saw. A thin fog of sawdust drifted over the