For The Love Of You. Donna Hill
took a sip of her tea and gazed out onto the midafternoon glory. The tight churning in her stomach had finally begun to ease.
“Ms. Fontaine!”
Jewel spilled her tea down the front of her floral sundress as she jumped up at the frantic call of her name, which could only mean one thing—Daddy. She ran across the main level and up the winding staircase. The sound of something crashing and shattering quickened her steps. She reached her father’s bedroom door, and her heart stood still.
* * *
Craig didn’t waste much time at the hotel. Now that he’d arrived in Louisiana, the adrenaline of his upcoming project pumped through his veins, making him more brusque and antsy than usual. He began spouting orders to his team the minute he walked into the suite. Within moments everyone was scurrying around like their jobs depended on it.
Less than a half hour after arriving, Craig, Anthony, Paul and his assistant, along with the photographer and driver, were heading to the Fontaine mansion.
“Why the rush?” Anthony asked again. “You generally don’t get involved at this level.”
Craig adjusted his shades on the bridge of his nose. “I have a bigger investment this time. I want everything to be on point and run like clockwork. No screwups. We don’t have the usual wiggle room on time and cost overruns.”
Anthony nodded his head. “Agreed.” He clapped Craig on the shoulder. “You’ve done this countless times, bro,” he said, lowering his voice. “This is going to be your best project yet. We got your back on this.”
“’Preciate that.” He returned his attention to the script and line notes. The film chronicled a poor black family that rose from sharecropping to command the upper echelons of finance, real estate and politics, with great sex scenes and plenty of family drama and scandal thrown in. He wondered if his family would recognize themselves in the characters. Of course, he’d changed names and some professions to suit the storyline.
The driver turned the black Suburban onto a winding road that led to the Fontaine mansion. According to his location scouts’ notes, the home had once been a plantation and one of the shacks that had housed former slaves on the expansive land still remained. When the home appeared and spread out in front of him, it was like being thrown back into time to the days of Gone With the Wind. The only thing missing was the Confederate flag. The SUV came to a stop.
Craig got out and fully took in the setting, already beginning to visualize the scenes and where they would take place. It was better than any description or photograph could capture. This was exactly the setting he wanted. What he needed to do now was meet the owner and set up the official working arrangement. Generally this was something that Paul handled, but this project was his dream movie. It was his first time at bat as writer, director and executive producer. He had a lot riding on this and knew that there were plenty who wished him well and an equal amount that couldn’t wait to see him fail.
“Anthony and Paul, come with me. You guys can wait here,” he said to the photographer and Paul’s assistant. He flipped a page on his clipboard. Jewel Fontaine. It sounded like the name of someone that would live in a house like this. He strode down the pathway that led to the palatial entrance. The front was framed by six white columns, three on each side of the double front door. It was two levels with a wraparound terrace on the second floor and paneled windows.
Craig led his small entourage up the three steps to the front door. He rang the bell and made a mental note to have a temporary door knocker installed for the film.
Moments later the door opened and a woman dressed in what appeared to be a nurse’s uniform stood in front of them.
“Can I help you?”
“Craig Lawson. Ms. Fontaine?”
“No. I’m... Ms. Fontaine is busy right now. It may be best if you come back.”
“No. I don’t think that would be best. I’d appreciate it if you could get Ms. Fontaine. Please let her know that Craig Lawson is here to talk with her about the film.”
The woman in white huffed and rolled her eyes. “If you go round back, I’ll ask Ms. Fontaine to meet you there.”
“Thank you,” Craig said, his tone softening to match the smile on his lips.
“I’ll get Ms. Fontaine,” she said, her tone decidedly changed.
Craig turned and got a quick I told you so look from Anthony. He ignored it.
The trio rounded the building and found themselves in a mini paradise.
“You did good, Paul,” Craig said, slapping him heartily on the back.
“Thanks, boss. Ron was the one that actually found it,” Paul said of his assistant.
Craig pressed his lips together and nodded. What he appreciated about his staff was that they never hesitated to spread their support and share the credit. He set the clipboard down on a circular white metal table that was shaded by a huge umbrella. There was a half cup of tea on the table and a newspaper that had fallen to the ground. He reached down, picked it up and placed it back on the table. He turned at the sound of a door opening behind him.
The woman didn’t simply walk through the door. She swept in like a character from a novel. Every nerve in Craig’s body vibrated. Like the filmmaker that he was, he cataloged every inch of her, from the riotous swirl of cinnamon curls that seemed to want to break free from the knot on the top of her head to the high cheeks, wide expressive honey-toned eyes, sleek arching brows and full pouty lips all set on a flawless canvas of nut brown. The loosely flowing sundress that bared her shoulder and reached her ankles did nothing to camouflage the curves beneath.
Jewel stopped in front of him. “Mr. Lawson?”
“Yes. And you must be Ms. Fontaine.” He extended his hand.
Jewel placed her hand in his, and Craig felt the heat of their contact race straight to his groin. He shifted his stance slightly and cleared his throat to give himself a moment to recover.
“Thanks for seeing me.”
“You didn’t give me much choice, Mr. Lawson.”
“You’re right. I realize you were expecting me—us—tomorrow, but I wanted to see the estate for myself and meet you as soon as possible. I hope we can talk for a few minutes, go over the details and work out the schedule.”
Jewel lifted her chin ever so slightly, a move that Craig had seen his sister use whenever she was ready to do battle. He reflexively clenched his jaw. Craig glanced over his shoulder and angled his body. “Ms. Fontaine, this is my business partner and a producer of the film, Anthony Maxwell.”
Anthony stepped in between the standoff and extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fontaine. Your home is better than any pictures.”
She offered up a hint of a smile. “Thank you.” She turned her attention to Craig, and he felt her stare right in his center. “We need to talk, Mr. Lawson.”
His radar went on full alert, and every instinct told him that this was not going to go well. “Of course.”
Jewel stepped down off the back porch and walked toward the brook that ran behind the house. Craig fell in step next to her and wondered what that incredible scent was that floated around her.
“Mr. Lawson—” She stopped and turned to him, and he was hit in the chest again by the depth of her eyes. “I don’t know how to say this, but—” She paused, looked at the water and then at him. “I’m going to have to back out of this arrangement.”
He’d expected a discussion about more money, no Mondays or eating in the kitchen, or whatever other quirky thing homeowners wanted when they rented out their property, but not this.
Craig bent his head toward her in an almost combative move. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve changed my mind.