Looking out over the lake

Ava’s mind raced. That envelope? Yes, yes she had seen it before. Of course she had. The one and only time was about six months ago. Valentine‘s Day to be exact. It was at Chris’s place after having  dinner at The Astor. Chris wanted to show her the completed model for the Emerson Summer Cottage. He was driving it up to the Peninsula the next morning to meet with Ray and June Emerson. The model was waiting for them in Chris’ penthouse. Ava’s mind wandered back to that evening.

Brent Atwell looked across his massive desk at Ava Land and could clearly see she was in distress. Her brilliant blue eyes struggled to hold back tears. He wanted to say something but what? He was no good in situations like this.

The phone rang and he grabbed for it like it was a lifeline. “Hello?” Brent listened. “Can you hold please?” he asked the caller. Brent Atwell got up from his chair, “Excuse me,” he said in his faint clipped English accent, “I have to take this in the Conference Room.”  It was only one of his rugby mates calling to see if the scrimmage was still on for 1 o’clock considering the weather hadn’t cleared yet. In fact it had gotten worse. Brent hoped his absence would give Ava Land the time she needed to pull herself together. To Brent Atwell there was nothing made him feel more helpless than a beautiful woman with tears in her eyes.

~

Chris Graber lived where he worked. He lived above the shop - literally. Christian Graber & Associates Architectural Firm was housed in a beautifully renovated four story Victorian building on the upper eastside of the city. Chris had purchased and restored it when it was at its most dangerous point of decay. Three years ago developers were circling, eyeing the property it sat upon. They had visions of a high rise complex with unencumbered views of the lake. Profits were in the air. All they had to do was acquire the property and tear down the landmark building, thankfully not yet officially designated as one, before anybody was the wiser.

Enter Christian Graber who loved vintage architecture. His original one-man firm had caught fire, was growing fast and he was in desperate need of more space as he hired more and more people to help him keep up with the demand for his residential and commercial designs.

Chris had been actively looking at commercial buildings for over a year. He felt strongly that the building he purchased must make a statement about what his work stood for. It had to possess the fine Victorian lines and proportions that were the trademark of his own contemporary designs. He’d caught wind of the old Iron Block building, one of the rare cast iron buildings still standing in the entire country through a business associate. Hearing developers were vying for the land it sat upon, Chris Graber, with reckless abandon (something he wasn’t known for) purchased the property on the spot and immediately started renovating it.

The first three floors were set aside for offices for the firm. But the top floor Chris claimed for his private residence. When work on his penthouse was finished two city wide newspapers, the premiere city magazine and the state newspaper were all calling asking to do a full feature spread on it. Although it would’ve been great advertising for the firm, Chris declined all requests. He wished for his private residence to remain just that - Private!

Ava leaned back in the passenger seat of the Jag and closed her eyes as Chris expertly maneuvered the car through the busy streets. For just these few moments, for the time it took to drive from The Astor to Chris’s place, she would allow him to take care of her. It wouldn’t hurt to let her guard down just this once.

Parking his car in the underground garage of his building, Chris and Ava took the elevator up to the penthouse. Ava always felt excited the second just before the doors opened because she knew what awaited her.

The elevator stopped, the doors separated. There it was. A full view of the lake. Not a postage stamp one like from her own condo windows but a full, unobstructed panoramic view. Ava stood by the floor to ceiling windows gazing south to the lighthouse. Chris disappeared to put on some soft jazz and to open a bottle of wine. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Chris said handing Ava her glass of wine then kissing her on the back of her neck. Ava nodded. “Let’s go sit by the fireplace of awhile,”  said Chris taking her hand in his.

It was a high tech, state of the art,gas fireplace operated by a remote control but Chris had taken pains to house it in an existing white marble Victorian mantle place. Chris and Ava set their glasses on the coffee table. Along with his glass Chris set one more thing down. He took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket, a cream vellum envelope, and leaned it against the bottle of wine saying nothing about it for the moment.

Ava and Chris sat gazing into the fire as the melodious strains of Autumn In New York played softly in the background. Ava recalled thinking ‘this is one of those sweet sweet moments of life’. They didn’t come along that often, at least not for her. Nor did they last long. Years ago she had trained herself to be observant when one appeared in her life; trained herself to pay homage to them by enjoying every second until reality inevitably pierced her ’sweet moment’ like a hawk catapulting itself towards Earth to snatch its prey in its talons.

The flames of the fire grew brighter as darkness enshrouded the city. Ava wondered if Chris was thinking what she was. That they’d come a long way since that first night they’d met at the Carole King concert; since her rash decision to abandon Chris to Kate Hagan.