Turning the Page

Turning the Page

Melanie Larson is an attractive, extremely successful business executive who shocks

herself by resigning from her job when her company merges with another and relocates.

While trying to decide what to do with her life next and at the urging of her uncle,

Melanie heads to Rochester, New York, to stay temporarily with her cousin Samantha.

She hopes to use her business savvy in an attempt to help Sam sort out the financial

woes of her small bookstore. During her stay, Melanie meets and becomes close to the

family that owns the property on which Samantha lives, the charming Benjamin Rhodes, a

distinguished, successful businessman, as wel as his beautiful and intriguing daughter

Taylor. Surprised by what and how she feels for each of them, Melanie is soon forced to

face the facts and re-examine what's really important in her life, career and love.

Chapter One

"I ALWAYS THOUGHT you were smart, Mel, but this is undeniably the dumbest move you’ve

ever made." Dale Radcliffe was dashing, as always, in his custom-tailored, double-breasted,

gray pinstriped suit. A red silk tie added the finishing touch, like the cherry atop an ice cream

sundae.

Hearing his grating voice behind her, Melanie Larson rolled her blue eyes heavenward as she

continued to pack up her office.

Most women, and some men, for that matter, would visibly swoon as Dale breezed past their

desks, leaving a hint of Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men hanging provocatively in the air. After

all, he was devastatingly handsome. From his perfectly highlighted blond hair and year-round

tan down to his spit-shined wingtips, he was an impressive representative of the human male.

It was only after a disastrous night together, which Melanie now labeled an extremely gross

error in judgment on her part, that she saw him for what he really was: a pompous and

arrogant jerk who would step over his own grandmother if it would get him a promotion.

"Contrary to what you believe, Dale, I think this was a smart decision for me." She sounded less convincing than she’d intended, as if she were trying to convince herself as well as him.

He snorted. "If you say so. Call me in six months. I guarantee you'll be singing a different

tune." He breezed out as smoothly as he had breezed in, tossing an insincere "Take care of yourself, Mel," over his shoulder.

"Thanks," Melanie replied then under her breath, "Asshole." She was well aware of the fact that Dale was thrilled with her departure, knowing he'd have the chance to slither into the

hole she left. She also knew he'd never make it. He put on a good show, but he would never be

able to handle the pressure. It wouldn't be long before the Powers That Be realized it. She

smiled at the thought of his inevitable demise.

There was a quiet knock. Melanie turned to see Angela Benetti, her soon-to-be-ex-secretary

standing in the doorway.

"Hi. Can I come in?"

"Absolutely." Melanie smiled at her.

Angela was a plump, Italian woman in her late fifties. Her dark hair was streaked with gray

and pulled back into a tight bun, the severity of which was offset by the pleasantness of her

face. Her navy skirt and sky-blue blouse were simple and neat, and her reading glasses hung

from a chain around her neck. Of all the people Melanie had worked with throughout her

career, Angela had been the most dependable. Not only was she quick, organized, and

efficient, she was also loving, caring, and nurturing. She looked after Melanie, with and

without her knowledge or approval, like a mother would. During the hectic days and late nights,

she made sure Melanie ate, often bringing leftovers from home and literally standing in front

of Melanie's desk until she consumed every last bite of macaroni or eggplant parmesan or

chicken cutlets or whatever her family had had for dinner the previous night. When Melanie

hit her third cup of coffee, Angela began pouring her decaf. She watched proudly as Melanie

rapidly ascended through the ranks of Rucker & Steele. With each promotion, three in four

years, Melanie was offered a new office and secretary. Each time she accepted the office and

declined the secretary, insisting that Angela stay with her. They were a great team.

"Have you eaten this morning?" she asked her boss.

"I had some coffee," Melanie replied sheepishly, knowing what was coming.

"No, I asked if you've eaten this morning." She set a foil-wrapped package on the desk.

"Cranberry nut muffins I made last night. Mangia. Now."

Melanie knew better than to disobey Angela, the roles of boss and employee nearly non-

existent between them. Mother and child were more adequate titles. She opened the package

and popped a piece of the sweet cake into her mouth, immediately making the inevitable "oh

my God, this is delicious" sounds that seemed to appear all on their own whenever she ate

something Angela made.

They stood in companionable silence, eating muffins and looking out at the Chicago skyline.

Angela spoke after several minutes.

"All packed?"

"Yup." Melanie gestured to the half-filled banker's box sitting on the rich mahogany desk. She took a deep breath. "I hope I know what I'm doing."

"You listen to me," Angela said sharply, startling Melanie. "You are doing the right thing. I heard that weasel in here a few minutes ago." She rolled her eyes in disgust. "I don't know what you were thinking when you hooked up with him. What he said? Bullshit. He's salivating

over your job so much, he's in danger of drowning himself."

Melanie burst into laughter over the visual that had formed in her head, Angela joining in.

When they were able to regain their composure, Angela continued. "Honey, I love you like you

were my own, and even though I'm going to miss you like crazy, I know you made the right

decision."

"The Decision" referred to leaving her high-ranking, very well paid position at Rucker & Steele. She remembered it like it was yesterday, and she equated it with being hit by a sledge

hammer.

Just two months earlier, on April third, the upper management had announced Rucker &

Steele's successful merger with a large international company. They would be relocating to

Seattle by the end of June. It really was a big thing, a huge financial plus for R&S, virtually

ensuring the future success of the company and all those who had helped it reach its upper-

class status, especially Melanie, head of their marketing department. The announcement had

come around lunch time and, although she had been trying to work, she'd been bodily dragged

out of her office by coworkers and forced to join the celebration. R&S had spared no expense

to thank the entire building: champagne all around and caterers with amazing hors d'oeuvres.

There had been an incredible sense of pride and accomplishment hanging in the air, and

everybody had felt it. R&S was paying the moving expenses of all those who wanted to stay in

its employ and the excitement had been evident.

The party had gone on well beyond five o'clock, and when Melanie had tried to return to her

office, she'd been met by Angela, as well as Thomas Rucker, who'd both admonished her for

her long hours. When she had tried to brush off their concern as a joke, Rucker had blocked

her office door, refusing to let her in. "Go home, for Christ's sake. See a movie. Watch TV.

Get some sleep. You deserve a break. You're a big part of why this merger was possible, and I

want you to pamper yourself, at least for one night." Angela had smiled and nodded in

satisfaction. Finally, someone who saw things her way.

After accepting the fact that there was no arguing with a slightly tipsy Thomas Rucker,

particularly when backed by a bossy Angela Benetti, Melanie had given in, and headed home to

her top floor loft apartment. It had been just after seven, a very early evening for her, and

she was not used to having time on her hands. She'd stood in the center of the sparsely

furnished living room feeling a bit disoriented.

Deciding to cook for herself, she'd opened her refrigerator and sighed at the old jar of

mustard with a fuzzy green top layer, a half-empty bottle of seltzer water and a stick of

butter. She hadn't been able to remember the last time she'd been in a grocery store.

No problem, she'd thought. I'l cal somebody and go out to eat. After twenty minutes of

staring at the phone, she had sighed heavily. Not a single name would come to mind. There had

been no one to call, and the idea of sitting in a restaurant alone had seemed far too pathetic.

She'd sat back on the blue and cream striped couch which, along with the oak coffee table,

was one of the only two pieces of furniture in the room, and let out a long, slow breath.

It was over her meal of a Quarter Pounder with cheese, large fries, a Coke, and an apple pie

that she'd made up her mind. She'd looked around the apartment as she chewed. It was a

beautiful place; high ceilings with wood ceiling fans and wood beams, rustic wood trim and

molding, huge windows overlooking the city, large, modern kitchen. It was gorgeous. It was also

empty. Aside from the couch and coffee table in the living room, there was a queen-size bed

of wrought iron and wood and a matching dresser in the bedroom. In the corner of the living

room, which Melanie lovingly thought of as "the den," was an old beat-up desk holding a

computer, printer, and papers and files, which seemed to flow like a river from the top of the

desk down and around the legs and across the floor. There were no pictures on the walls or

table. There were no plants. There was a top-of-the-line television and VCR, neither hooked up

nor plugged in. The cardboard boxes they had come in were stacked nearby. The place had the

feel of somebody just moving in.

She'd been renting the apartment for over two years. She'd swallowed hard and set down her

burger. The sledgehammer hit, and she had suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She had a great

job she was damn good at and lots of money. She had no friends.

No hobbies. No furniture. She'd swallowed again, blinking rapidly as her solitary existence

stared her in the face.

"God," she'd whispered, "I have no life."

"Did you hear me?" Angela was saying, clasping her hands tightly. "You made the right decision."

Melanie snapped back to the present. "You think so?"

"You better believe it. Look at this place." Angela gestured around the plush, rich-looking office at the thick, gray carpeting, mahogany furniture, leather chairs, beautiful view.

"Where's Melanie?" she asked meaningfully. "Look in your box. What have you packed? What are you taking from this place that's you?"

Melanie looked into the banker's box, half-full of meaningless items. Pens and pencils, ten

books on marketing, several computer disks, and a thriving plant in a deep purple pot. She held

up the plant hopefully.

Angela glared at her. "The only reason that plant is alive is because I give it water once in a while."

Melanie set it down in defeat.

"There's no Melanie here," Angela continued softly. "Know why? Because you don't even know who Melanie is. You work, work, work, and you're good at it, and so what? Who cares if there's

nobody beyond the work?"

"You're right," Melanie sighed. "I know. You're right."

"You take that severance package, and you go on vacation or something. Get to know Melanie."

She smiled warmly. "I think you'll like her."

She wrapped her arms around Melanie and squeezed hard, blinking back tears. Melanie hugged

her back, knowing Angela was what she would miss the most.

"What about you?" Melanie asked, wiping her own eyes. Angela was not moving to Seattle

either. She had too much family in Chicago, and did not want to uproot herself so close to

retirement age. "What will you do?"

"You think I can't find a job without you?" she chided Melanie with a grin. "I can find a job anywhere. You watch. I'll be working in a new place next week."

"I believe that's probably true," Melanie laughed.

Chapter Two

THE PHONE CALL from Melanie's uncle couldn't have been more perfectly timed. Melanie was

just beginning to absorb the fact that she was now out of a job and had been wondering

exactly what she would do with herself, when the phone rang.

Phil ip Richter was a soft-spoken, kind man, who had always held a special place in Melanie's