The Davonshire Series 2: Loving Words

Loving Words Copyright © 2014 by Cheryl Corbin.

At three in the morning he sat straight up in the bed, startled by the fierceness of the wind whipping against the shutters.  A tumbleweed was lifted from the ground and slapped against the upstairs bedroom window, which forced him to rise and see what was taking place outside.  He was grateful that he had an interior light switch installed to operate the outside lights that governed the barns, the hen house and the corrals. He switched on the light and the soft rays illuminated five of the 30 acres that held Green Gables Ranch. Surveying the land, nothing seemed amiss with the exception of the dust devils that continued to rise and fall behind the barn. If he were to write this moment in a story, it would be considered a transitional scene with the wind symbolizing the beginning of change for the main character in the story.

Cracking the window, he pushed the glass outwards to listen to the animals.  There was no ruckus in the hen house and horses remained quiet in the barn.  The threat of javelina or coyotes on the ranch was not normally a problem, but one could never be over prepared for those types of things. Wilfred had set the ranch up so that he was protected from the outside world, while cocooning himself from the ugliness it often brought.

 He closed the window and turned off the light.  Today was going to be busy.  There were horses to re-shod, new author submissions to review, final edits to approve, and books that needed to be packaged and shipped. The uneasiness that woke him still crawled across his back, feeling as if a trail of unmarked slime still lingered across the sinews of his muscles. He slipped in between the covers and tried to get comfortable.

As he settled his head into his pillow, the uneasiness worked its way around his neck and settled itself on his chest. He practiced his yoga breathing techniques to settle the nerves and eventually, with some trepidation, he fell back to sleep.

David tossed and turned all night until finally he got up from the bed.  He did not want to wake Halley since the twins were growing inside of her at an astronomical rate and sleep often eluded her based solely on her inability to find a comfortable sleeping position. His life had changed drastically in the past four months with the addition of a wife, a new career, and a family on the way.

The vineyard that Halley had purchased as a wedding gift for him was far prettier in the photograph than it was now, considering the photo was taken 12 years earlier.  The actual vineyard was in disrepair, the vines overgrown, the grapes bitter and the barn falling over. Yet, he had never been happier in his life.

The projects he chose to work on himself were minor, while Halley had put together a small lab on the sunny side of the house and was experimenting with grapes.  She was growing more beautiful every day and his work on the nursery was almost done. Next week, a crew was due to begin stabilizing the barn’s frame and reinforcing it so that when he headed to his brother’s in July, he would be able to have his horses shipped home.  David knew he was uncomfortable with his decision regarding his brother’s business, but it had to be done.

There was no way he could continue to serve as COO for Davonshire House Publishing and CFO of his sister’s lingerie company, Vanity’s Pleasure. The twins were now 30 years old, their businesses were well-established and financially stable. He had his own life, but before departing both companies he had made some business decisions that would impact his brother and sister’s personal lives.

As CFO, he brokered a deal with Strathmore Textiles for an exclusive fabric for his sister’s new line.  Nigel Strathmore was a tough as nails businessman who was well known for impeccable taste, rare fabrics, and an exceptional eye.  He secretly felt that Strathmore was the perfect mate for his sister, who needed a man with a firm hand who would not be swayed by her looks and could also hold a conversation with her brilliant mind.  Wilhelmina Devonshire was known to the world as Vanity Devons and had parlayed her modeling career of eight years into a booming and thriving lingerie business.  Although David had served as her manager, her college roommate, her ad hoc parent, confidant, and chief financial officer as she built an empire, he knew a special man was needed to move her life forward.  The new contract would kick into place in July and by August she would be forced to meet with Strathmore in person. Knowing Nigel as he did, he would not fly to New York to meet with Vanity; she would have to come to him. David hoped that Mina, as he like to call her, but the family called her Willie, would be forgiving of his meddling.

Vanity’s twin, Wilfred, was not going to be pacified so easily.  David had not officially resigned as COO of Davonshire House, or at least Wilfred would not find out until two days from now.  David had promoted his former assistant, Roderick Hill, as the new COO and he was due to arrive at Wilfred’s ranch in two days to assume his new role. Rod, as he was fondly called by David, who had precious little time to enunciate his whole name, had been informed that he could reside in the on-site guest house until his belongings could be shipped until he found suitable accommodations in the middle of nowhere Arizona.

In his new role as COO, Rod had been instructed to grow the company by threefold by year four, which meant the addition of a new division, nonfiction and biographies, which was due to launch in 2015.  David brokered a deal with Atlanta-based Hughes Publishing, and Davonshire House would assume the two divisions.  However, Delphina Hughes, known in the publishing world as the Dragon Tamer, was not so easily swayed by David’s charming smile, good looks, or big checkbook.  In trade, she wanted an autobiography of Davonshire House’s most famed, and highly profitable, author, W.E. Devons.  David had agreed, but with the caveat that he picked the ghost writer.

He thought Catherine De La Croix would be a nice companion for his brother.  She had legs that did not stop and an above-average I.Q., and she was well-versed in literature. Since his marriage, David had only been to the ranch once in three months and had noticed that his little brother was starting to withdraw again. Six months of Catherine living at the ranch would help. He would leave that tidbit to Rod to explain.

He kicked off his slippers and slid back into the bed, snuggling up next to Halley.  He thought his brother and sister had spent far too much time hiding inside of their careers and needed to understand the beauty of sharing a life with someone special – much like their parents, who had just celebrated their 50th anniversary.  Well, the wheels were in motion. He had a nursery to complete and a vineyard to make operational. His brother and sister would have to make some adjustments.

Davonshire House Publishing

PO Box 9716

Augusta, GA 30916

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.

© 2013 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

Copy Editor: Rachel Bishop

Line Editor: Teresa Thompson Blackwell

Cover: koougraphics

Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever.  For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

ISBN-13:978-0692263167
ISBN-10: 0692263160

Printed in the United States of America

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First Davonshire House Publishing August 2014

Wilfred rose from the bed, still feeling unrested from last night’s windstorm and covered in a feeling of apprehension.  His hands reached up to untwist the braid at the base of his neck and let the tresses fall to his shoulders.  It was Monday and his hair needed to be washed.  He quickly made his bed, looked around the sparsely decorated master bedroom, and noticed that he needed to remind his housekeeper, Conchetta, to come and dust this room.

He lathered his hair, rinsed, repeated and added the thick conditioner, allowing the nutrients to penetrate the locks of black hair as he began washing his body, starting at his neck and working his way down to his toes.  Rinse, repeat, this time using his favorite scented shower gel.  Wilfred rinsed the conditioner from his hair and stepped from the shower.  The routine was so practiced that he gave little thought to the steps anymore.  He wrapped the thick hand towel around the mass of black hair that now hung loosely between his shoulder blades.  He applied brute strength to each turn to squeeze out the excess water into the towel which swaddled the tresses.  Clad in boxer briefs and a wife-beater, he opened the window to perform a visual assessment of the property from the upper window.

The 30 acres of Green Gables Ranch were located between Bisbee and Sierra Vista, Arizona right off of Highway 90. It sat at the basin of the
San Pedro
Riparian National
Conservation Area
and the ranch used water that came from the San Pedro River.  When he purchased the ranch almost nine years ago, he began working on it to make it as green as possible.  With the help of his ranch hands, White Bear and Raul, they had installed hydro showers, solar panels, and wind turbines.  Seldom were vehicles driven on the ranch with the exception of the electric golf carts that he had custom-made by E-Z-GO.  He lived the life of a recluse, but loved the purity of his existence where he was free to write without the encumbrances of the day-to-day bullshit that bogged so many down.

He felt truly blessed that he owned a decent-sized publishing company whose corporate offices were located three miles down the unimproved road on his ranch.  Some days, he even rode his horse to work.  Today was an office day.

He worked in the office on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, with Tuesday and Thursday serving as editing or writing days.  He saved the company money by using freelance editors and proofreaders so that his staff only consisted of about ten truly talented employees.

He smoothed the hair back from his face, added a couple of brush strokes, and began to braid the locks.  Since it was still damp, he allowed the braid to hang freely down his back after he dressed in loose fitting khakis, a light blue shirt, and matching zip front cardigan.  It was chilly for late April so he threw on a pair of well-worn loafers and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

It was still rather early and the house had not stirred. Conchetta had set the coffee pot the night before she went to bed, so when he entered the large kitchen, his coffee was already brewed.  It would be another hour before Gianni, his ward, would be up making vast amounts of noise, grumbling, and mumbling about Facebook teenage angst something or other, which would basically be all he would hear.

His morning routine was almost complete as he made his breakfast consisting of half a grapefruit, a yogurt, and an egg white, Swiss, and spinach omelet.  He was just about to sit down at the table when he heard the alarm for the main gate buzz.  He looked at the monitor and saw a black BMW enter through the gate.  He quickly made another omelet and set the table for two.

David’s access code had been used to open the gate, but that was not the type of car David usually rented.  Since his brother had married a few months ago and was now expecting a family, he knew that he would not continue to serve as his COO.  This person was probably his brother’s choice of replacement. 
Just because it’s his choice, doesn’t mean I have to accept whoever that is.

He made his way to his office at the front of the hacienda and removed his favorite Sig Sauer from the safe, popped in a clip, and slid a round into the chamber, remembering to put the safety back on before slipping it into the back of his waistband.
Too early to shoot myself in the ass
. Standing in front of the monitor, he waited for the doorbell to ring.  Right on time, he heard the chimes but instead of going to the door, he adjusted the camera to view the tall African-American gentleman that stood on his doorstep.

“Yes, may I help you?”

The gentleman looked up into the camera.  “Good morning, Mr. Devonshire.”  Before he had time to say another word, Wilfred released the locks and the front door opened.  Although he had never met the man, he immediately recognized the voice and knew who he was.

Roderick Hill.  David’s former assistant was his choice for a replacement.