Dare to Dream Read online

  Desiree tried to talk over the oxygen mask but coughed instead.

  “Just relax, okay? I know you’re stubborn, but do as the doctors say so you can get the hell outta here.”

  “My s…tudio,” Desiree managed in a harsh whisper.

  Rachel momentarily lowered her gaze. “Everything is gone, sweetie.”

  Desiree squeezed her eyes shut as the enormity of what had transpired taunted her behind her lids.

  “The important thing, Desi, is that you’re here. All that stuff could never replace you. You can do it again. Even better next time.”

  She shook her head and began thrashing violently. “No,” she croaked. “No.”

  “Nurse! Nurse! Relax, Desi. Please. Nurse!”

  A nurse came rushing in followed by Dr. Bernard.

  “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to leave. I’ll need to sedate her,” Dr. Bernard said, stepping around her to Desiree’s bedside.

  Rachel slowly backed out of the room, covering her mouth to contain her sobs as she watched the surreal scene unfolding in front of her.

  Out in the hallway she leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. If anyone knew how important Desiree’s work was, it was she. She’d watched her struggle to build her career from nothing to opening her own small shop, spending hours toiling over the perfect combination of colors and form, teaching an art class to poor inner-city kids on weekends to help make ends meet. She was at a major turning point in her career, and now this. Everything she’d worked for up in flames. Gone forever.

  “She’s resting now.”

  Rachel opened her eyes to look into Dr. Bernard’s. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “Your friend will be okay. The emotional shock is much more devastating than any of her physical problems. That will take time. I understand that she lost everything, even a place to live. Is there somewhere she can stay when she’s released?”

  “Of course. She can stay with me.”

  “Good. She’ll need a friend. It may be best for her to get away for a while.”

  Rachel nodded her head. “When do you think she can go home—I mean be released?”

  “Depending on her progress, a day or two.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Good night. Try to get some rest.”

  Rachel watched as the doctor walked away, made a stop at the nurses’ station, then continued down the hallway. Taking a deep breath of resolve, she headed toward the elevator just as Cynthia got off.

  “Oh, Rachel. Hi.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “How is she?”

  Rachel smiled. “She woke up.”

  Cynthia grabbed Rachel in a bear hug and they both giggled and jumped up and down. When Cynthia stepped back, there were tears in her ocean-blue eyes.

  “Thank goodness,” she murmured, pressing her hand to her chest. “But what are the doctors saying? Is she…really okay?”

  Rachel recapped what Dr. Bernard said.

  The delighted expression on Cynthia’s face slowly diminished by degrees. “Yeah, I guess that’s to be expected. That studio, her work…” She looked Rachel in the eye. “They meant everything to her. And now…”

  “I know. But Desi is tough. She will get through this and she’ll be even stronger when she comes out on the other side. She just needs some time to pull herself together.”

  Cynthia nodded, then her eyes widened in alarm. “What is going to happen with the exhibit? It’s barely two months away. All the preparation…the money.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and clenched her teeth. “And Carl Hampton…he’s going to go ballistic if he hasn’t already. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised he’s not all over the place like a rash, throwing his weight and his money around.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “He just rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Well, Desi certainly doesn’t need to be annoyed by Carl right now. Maybe it’s best that he does stay away, at least for the time being.” She checked her watch. “Listen, I’ve gotta run. They gave her a sedative, she got a little upset, so I’m not sure if she is awake. But why don’t you go on in?”

  “Thanks. I just want her to know I’m here.”

  “Okay. Take care.” She stepped onto the elevator just before the doors slid shut.

  Chapter 3

  “You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to, girl,” Rachel said as she put Desiree’s belongings in the guest bedroom. “And as soon as you get your strength back we’ll go on a shopping spree like we used to do back at Howard.” She laughed lightly at the college memory, but got no response from Desiree.

  Desiree wandered over to the canopy bed, sat down on the side and stared out the window. The world didn’t look any different than it had only days ago, she thought. People still moved along as if nothing at all had changed, as if her life and all that she’d lived for hadn’t been destroyed. Couples still walked hand in hand, children still laughed and played, police still wailed their sirens, the sun still rose and set. It was all unreal to her. A part of her mind could not handle the information, because she knew differently. She knew that nothing was the same and never would be again. All she had left were the borrowed clothes on her back and a new toothbrush for all her years of struggle and sacrifice. A tear of desolation slid down her cheek. She covered her face as the sudden onslaught of sobs shook her body.

  “Desi…” Rachel was immediately at her side, gathering her in her arms. “It’s going to be all right. I swear it will. All that stuff is replaceable. I know you’re aching inside, but imagine the world without you in it.” She hugged her tighter.

  “I…I haven’t felt this kind of emptiness since…Lincoln.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed hard. “After him, all I had was my work. I poured all the love I had for Lincoln into building my shop, painting, and…my first show.” She stifled a sob. “Now I have nothing.” She turned to look into the eyes of her friend. “Nothing, Rae.”

  Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled Desiree against her shoulder. Her own heart ached for her friend. All she could do was try to help her through this crisis. Desiree was a strong woman, resilient. All she needed was time to get her feet back under her, and Rachel promised herself that she would do whatever was necessary to make sure she did.

  Desiree wandered around Rachel’s apartment like a ghost for the next week, barely speaking or eating. She refused to see Carl at all and when Cynthia came to visit she hardly acknowledged her presence.

  * * *

  “She doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Cynthia said as she sat in the kitchen with Rachel sipping on a cup of herbal tea. “Maybe she needs to…you know…see someone.”

  Rachel frowned. “You mean a shrink?”

  “Yes. Maybe it would help. She certainly can’t stay like this. It’s not healthy.”

  “Desiree doesn’t need a shrink, she needs to get her spirit back. I’ve seen her go through this before. She’s healing, in her own way, and when she’s ready she will come out of it. I know Desi, nothing will move her until she’s ready to move.”

  “Well, not to change subjects, but she needs to really start thinking about her business, the show, finding a way to repay Carl. I can only hold him off for so long.”

  Rachel took a deep breath and nodded her head. “She will when she’s ready.”

  Cynthia stood. “It really needs to be soon.” She picked up her purse from the oak table. “Take care. And thanks for the tea.”

  Rachel didn’t bother to walk her to the door. To tell the truth she was glad she was leaving. Cynthia might very well have Desiree’s best interests at heart, but Rachel had never really cared for Cynthia. She simply tolerated her because of Desiree, who swore she couldn’t run things without her, tha
t she was indispensable. What Rachel really believed was that Cynthia was a no-talent artist who happened to fall into Desiree’s lap at a very vulnerable time in her life and decided to latch on to Desi’s coattails. Maybe the real truth was that she was a bit jealous of Desi and Cynthia’s relationship, she grudgingly admitted. Cynthia had been there for Desiree when she really needed someone—that someone should have been Rachel. But she’d been dealing with her own issues at the time. Building her accessory-design business had taken her out of New York for months on end. She was virtually living in Europe when the fiasco with Lincoln had taken place, not to mention her affair with her Italian lover Claudio, and her on-again off-again relationship with Lucas Scott, which almost consumed her.

  Sighing, she pushed herself up from the table. Maybe that’s why she was trying so hard with Desiree, not only because she wanted to see her better, but also to assuage her guilty conscience.

  She walked to the dishwasher and put the teacups and saucers in.

  “Rae.”

  Rachel jumped at the sudden sound of her name, grabbed her chest and turned. “Girl, you scared me out of my panties. Whew.” She closed the door to the dishwasher. “Hungry? I was going to fix something.”

  “No, actually, I was wondering if you would mind coming with me to the loft.”

  Rachel’s thinly tapered brows rose in surprise. “The loft?”

  Desiree nodded. “I think it’s time.”

  Rachel took a deep breath and a slow smile spread across her face. “Yeah, it is.”

  * * *

  When Rachel pulled up in front of what was left of the loft, Desiree’s heart nearly stopped. All of the windows were broken out, debris was everywhere, the remnants of her gallery and paintings were piled in a sooty heap against the front door—destroyed. There was yellow caution tape surrounding the building. It looked exactly like what it was—a disaster.

  “Do you want to go in?” Rachel asked with hesitation.

  Desiree nodded and slowly got out of the car. She walked toward the entrance and looked up at what had once been her apartment. A chilling flash of that night and the terror she felt raced through her. And for the first time she fully understood just how lucky she really was. She hadn’t been spared to spend the rest of her life wallowing in self-pity, she concluded. She’d been given a chance—maybe to start over, live her life differently, change her focus—she wasn’t sure, at least not yet. But she was certain that she’d been spared for a reason.

  She turned to Rachel. “I don’t need to go in. There’s nothing for me in there.”

  Rachel placed her hand on Desiree’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  “It’s the first thing I’ve been sure about in weeks. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Desiree was deathly quiet on the trip back. When they returned to Rachel’s apartment Desiree took a seat on the couch. “Let’s talk,” she said.

  Rachel took off her red leather jacket and hung it on the coatrack in the foyer. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I know I’ve been a real pain in the ass these past few weeks. And you’ve been a really good babysitter. But it’s time for me to get out of here and for you to get back to your life.”

  “Desi, you have not been a problem. That’s what friends are for.”

  She nodded. “And I truly appreciate it. But it’s time.”

  “Where will you go? What will you do?”

  Desiree heaved a deep sigh. “I was thinking of going out to the shore for the rest of the summer. Get my thoughts back in order, maybe rekindle an old spark of creativity.” She flashed a weak smile. “What do you think?”

  “I think if that’s what you need to do, then you should do it. But where? Actually you could stay at my place in Highland Beach. They’re still doing renovations, but you would pretty much have the place to yourself.”

  “No. I’ve imposed on you enough. And I certainly don’t want to be in the way of workmen.”

  “I guess you’re right. So where to then?”

  “I was thinking Sag Harbor. It’s always so beautiful there this time of year. Remember when all of the sorors ‘summered’ there during our senior year at Howard?” she asked, affecting an aristocratic accent.

  Rachel laughed at the memory. “Yes, the Alpha Delta X did their thing that summer. It is lovely there. Great shops, wonderful restaurants, and it’s peaceful. Maybe you could rent a cottage or something.”

  Desiree nodded as the idea began to take shape in her mind.

  Rachel leaned forward, excitement brightening her eyes. “If you go, it has to be under one condition.”

  Desiree’s brows drew together. “What?”

  “You let this be my treat. I’ll arrange for everything. You won’t have a thing to worry about.”

  “Rae…I couldn’t.”

  “You can and you will.” She folded her arms and pressed her lips together.

  Desiree looked at Rachel and knew from the set expression of her eyes and mouth that no was not an option. “Okay.”

  “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. And then we go shopping!”

  Desiree laughed for the first time in weeks, and tomorrow suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad thing at all.

  Chapter 4

  Carl Hampton entered the office building on Madison Avenue in midtown Manhattan and stepped onto the elevator. Hampton Inc. was located on the twentieth floor of the turn-of-the-century building and boasted an incredible view of the Big Apple, one of the reasons he’d chosen the location nearly fifteen years earlier.

  Since he launched his investment company, he’d seen the country’s unstable economy topple one business after another. But one thing he’d learned early on was to diversify. His assets and his sights were set on an array of enterprises and opportunities, and he’d amassed enough money to live the way he wanted. It also allowed him to indulge in his pet passion—art. The white-walled reception area of Hampton Inc. was lined with original artwork from around the world. Each of the dozen offices housed at least one treasured piece.

  The elevator door opened and his receptionist, Denise, jumped to attention.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hampton.”

  He murmured something in his throat and breezed by her.

  Jake Foxx, one of his investment brokers, stopped him in the corridor.

  “Carl, we really need to talk. The lawyers and the accountants need to know what you want to do about that loft thing. We need to get the papers filed and decide what to do with the property.”

  Carl cut his eyes at Jake. “Do you think that perhaps I can get into my office before you bombard me with what you need?” he asked with deadly calm. “I pay the accountants, the lawyers and you to take care of things. So take care of them.” He walked off and into his office, slamming the door behind him.

  He knew part of the reason for his ill temper was that he had not been able to talk to or see Desiree. It was eating him alive. He was sure that by now she would have contacted him, asking for his help. But not a word, not a call. How could she not need him?

  He slammed his briefcase on top of his desk, sending a flurry of papers to the floor. This was not how things were supposed to be. Desiree should have been his by now. Hadn’t he shown her how much he cared? Hadn’t he provided for her every need? She’d come to her senses and realize what a fool she’d been to turn her back on him. The building, the exhibit, none of it mattered. The only thing that made a difference in his life was Desiree, and he had to find a way to finally make her understand that.

  * * *

  “Sorry, ma’am, we’re full and probably will be for the next two weeks. You can try us back then.”

  “Thanks.” Rachel sighed and hung up the phone. She’d called every bed-and-breakfast on Sag Harbor and r
eceived the same response: “Full, please call back.” Short of going out there herself and scouting the places, she didn’t know what else to do.

  She leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. She couldn’t let Desiree down, not after all the huffing and puffing she’d done, swearing that she would take care of everything.

  Running out of options, Rachel decided to call the tourist bureau. After about twenty minutes, the very patient and thorough customer service rep was ready to fax over information on a relatively new B and B called The Port.

  “Thank you so much. You’ve saved a life today,” Rachel said. “Yes, the fax is coming through right now. Thank you again. Have a great day.”

  Rachel hung up and hurried across the room of her home office to the fax machine. Each of the pages highlighted the attributes of this little-known treasure on Sag Harbor. Even though the picture of the resort was a bit grainy, she could tell that it would be perfect for Desi. It offered all the amenities and provided the privacy that she needed while still giving her easy access to the rest of the affluent African-American community.

  Before the last page was spewed out, Rachel was on the phone.

  “Hello, please tell me that you have rooms available,” she said, a bit breathless.

  The deep voice chuckled. “Actually you’re in luck.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. I’d like to make reservations—for the rest of the summer if that’s possible.”

  “The rest of the summer works for us,” he said. “We’ll be happy to accommodate you.”

  “Actually it’s not for me. It’s for a friend. She really needs to get away, rest, and…well, she needs to get away. But I’ll be taking care of all the bills.”

  “Not a problem. Let me put the guest clerk on the phone and she will take care of all the particulars.”