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Garrett

Garrett sat in his pickup the next morning, admiring the tall structure that overlooked the southwest corner. Countless windows looked out onto the bustling downtown below. Each black frame enhanced the antique white stone. Everything was new and polished. A large gray sandstone plaque with silver inscriptions adorned the double doors.

Beaumont Investments.

A gust of wind shook his truck, prompting him to remove his seatbelt in amazement as a flurry of leaves danced across his windshield. The sky was cloudy, creating the impression of a dreary autumn day that was bound to be depressing. He noticed a lady unlocking one of the many hair salons in the shopping center across the street. Her slim build and stunning white-gold curls gave her a striking profile. Mrs. Huang.

She might be a little slower and older, but it was still her. She had been in business for as long as Garrett could remember. Mrs. Huang fumbled with her key to get in, then flipped the OPEN sign so that it faced out. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she looked away.

Garrett struggled to accept his mother's involvement in Mrs. Huang's social circle. He closed his eyes and a faint smile of nostalgia appeared on his face. The sunlight streaming down into his truck made him feel both warm and stiff.

"Garrett Alexander Beaumont. Stay away from that window. Sit still and don't move until I'm finished."

Garrett didn't move an inch.

"You are only seven years old. I never want to see you staring at those street women, mister. You must be smarter than that."

"But, Mama, I just returned the favor when the woman waved at me," little Garrett said, feeling embarrassed.

His gaze became clearer as he cast a swift glance at Helen.

Garrett's mother had given him a stern warning about being careful around strangers, emphasizing her concern with a pointed gesture. "Certain people can pose a threat."

"That's why I want to be a police officer and get the bad guys."

Helen patted Garrett's head. She gave him a soft hug and took his hand.

He turned and looked back at the store. Garrett grumbled as he opened his door. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he raised his gaze to the structure bearing his family's name. The Beaumont family had a long history in this area dating back to the early 1800s, but their financial success was widely documented. His great-uncle started the business. He arrived in town just as the lumber industry was expanding. Beaumont Investments added small business loans, tax preparation, and debt collection over time.

The company now had banks and investment firms as part of its financial empire that it built throughout the years. Garrett and his brothers were the last in their line, and none of them strived to succeed their grandfather, so the empire had no heir.

That thought hit him like a ton of bricks, so he turned around and walked away, cursing. Rhett Cunningham, his grandfather's business associate, can wait.

Garrett had no desire to work for the corporation, but Eugene encouraged him. As the first raindrops fell, he hunched his shoulders against the wind and ran down the sidewalk. He waited for the light to turn green, crossed the street, and sat down at the counter of Hot Chocolate Heaven with a croissant and a steaming cup of coffee.

The restaurant was busy and had a mix of local business owners and retirees. Garrett nodded to several of them, but made no attempt to strike up a conversation. He was not in the mood to talk and sipped his coffee in silence, occasionally glancing at the door when the bell rang, signaling a new arrival.

He did not recognize the middle-aged woman behind the counter or the younger man who worked with her, so either the owners were new or the Jeffersons had hired staff to run the business. The other woman, however, who swept in the corner and moved strangely, jogged his memory. Something about her strawberry blonde hair, pulled into a braid, felt familiar. She was around five feet three, with broad shoulders and long, lean legs. The hoodie was faded and her jeans were wrinkled but clean.

"Harper doesn't like people staring at her."

Garrett yanked his head back and found hunter-green eyes on him. "What did you say?"

The man behind the counter frowned as he wiped up crumbs. "Bradley," based on his name tag, leaned on the counter, his gaze direct, and nodded at the woman mopping the floor. "Harper doesn't like it when people stare at her."

Harper.

Garrett glanced at the employee again. Once Harper turned, he could see the writing on the back of the sweatshirt. The Crescent Opera House.

"Harper Van Buren?"

"You know her?" Bradley asked, taking Garrett's empty plate and depositing it under the counter.

"We sang together at the opera house."

"You sing opera?"

Garrett slightly laughed as he took another bite of his croissant. "Yes, back in junior high. Still do."

"Wow." Bradley set his towel down and crossed his arms. "So, you're from around here?"

Garrett turned back to him and accepted a fresh cup of coffee. "Born and raised."

Bradley nodded to the woman at the register. "That's my mom, Elizabeth, and my dad is cleaning the parking lot out back. My family bought this place two years ago from the Jeffersons. We're originally from Wichita."

Garrett's eyebrow shot up at that. "You're a long way from Kansas."

Bradley smiled. "And that's good. Life is much better here. The community welcomes our family." He paused. "I haven't seen you before. It must be a while since you've been home."

"Something like that. I've only come home during the holidays, but that's about it."

"I see. What's your name, mister?"

Garrett was fond of this young man. Bradley was inquisitive, friendly, and had great customer service. The employee was not more than twenty years old, but he knew how to hold a conversation. "Garrett Beaumont."

"Your surname sounds familiar." Bradley inhaled a breath, then nodded. "Now, I know you. You're Mr. Beaumont's relative. His son, right?"

Startled, Garrett took a sip from his mug. "I'm his grandson. You know Eugene?"

"Yeah. He gave us the loan for this building." Bradley's smile dimmed a bit. "I heard he got ill." He wiped the counter one more time. "Is he doing better?"

"He's getting there."

"Glad to hear it, sir. He's a decent man. And he always had a smile on his face when coming in here."

Garrett glanced back at Harper. "Why is she limping?"

Bradley lowered her voice a bit. "Car accident, I believe. She comes in, does her work, and never complains. My parents like her. Harper just has a hard time standing still."

Whoa!

There was a time when Harper Van Buren was among the girls who were making it big. She should have gone far in life, being the it-girl with unlimited potential and an infectious zest for life. If Garrett remembered properly, she received an audition with a French opera house because of her exceptional singing voice. And now the woman cleaned the floors in a coffeehouse.

He drank his coffee silently, his thoughts gloomy and his mood dark. Life was undeniably challenging. Garrett was so caught up in his thoughts that he ignored the tinkling bell. After a few seconds, he looked over to see someone slide into the seat beside him.

Isaiah Washington nodded and gave the server his coffee and bagel order. "Garrett. I heard that you were in town to see Eugene."

"Whatever, Isaiah."

"Brrr. No love lost here."

Imani's brother wore a lumberjack-style plaid jacket, as well as worn-out pants and boots. He politely accepted Bradley's mug, took a sip, and then set it down.

"I hear your grandfather has moved to the hospital." The brown eyes that beheld him were anything but friendly, and it was hardly news. "Is it that bad?"

"Eugene is hanging in there. And your family?" Imani had not spoken about her parents since their reunion, and Garrett was drawn to Isaiah's steady gaze. He had always admired their mother, Raquel. Abraham Washington, however, was a well-known intolerant and harsh person. Still, he was elected mayor.

"They haven't changed much. My mom is good. She attends Main Street Baptist Church and prays on a regularly. I assume she continues to believe that my father can rediscover his old self. Back to the man she met in her late teens. After losing re-election, he ignored us and destroyed our family."

"Sorry to hear that."

Garrett knew how much of a jerk Abraham Washington was. Everyone in the town could see it. But they disregarded domestic issues back then and probably still do now, he concluded. He believed that the public was hesitant to become involved in Imani's family's problems because of speculations that may not be accurate. Her father was belligerent and didn't care who he hurt in the end.

Scooping up his coffee to go, Isaiah stuffed his bagel into a bag. Curiosity flooded his eyes as he returned his attention to Garrett. "You're now living in DC?"

"Yeah. For the past three years,"

"Law enforcement, right?"

Then Garrett gave a slight nod. "FBI."

"Well, well, well. I hadn't ever imagined you as a cop," Isaiah remarked.

"You didn't?" It was hardly surprising that everyone thought Garrett's job with the FBI was unbelievable, given that he had been an impulsive teenager. Taking a different perspective, even he would find it humorous. A deadbeat troublemaker turned FBI agent. Something out of a book—that's what it felt like.

As he shook his head, Isaiah let out a snicker. "Indeed. You and my sister had mentioned going to college in New York together. Once Imani landed her first modeling job, you took a spring break trip up there. It became a success, and then you moved on. Left her alone, like she was a nobody. I would never have guessed that you were a guy in a suit and tie looking for criminals. What with all the times you broke the law on your own?"

"I've become older and wiser since we last spoke, Isaiah."

"If you were smart, you'd leave Imani alone. For good."

Even though Garrett was only irritated and motivated by the man standing next to him, he barely managed to maintain an orderly demeanor. "It's not really up to you to make that call, is it?"

Isaiah retreated a step, and all signs of warmth vanished. "Trust me. You would never again stray more than ten inches from her if I had my way. You'd be deteriorating like the scumbag that you are, six feet below the ground." He looked over to his right. "Harper. You ready?"

Garrett remained still, his fists clenched, while he became unresponsive toward Isaiah. He watched Harper Van Buren trail Imani's brother out of the restaurant and onto the street before disappearing around the corner.

"Will that be all for you today?" Now Elizabeth stood before him. It was clear that she had overheard his conversation with Isaiah. There was no use denying it.

"Who is he to you guys?" Garrett admitted his interest. He had heard that Isaiah was a prominent Miami architect. The man was now back in Holden, enjoying the good life as a husband, father, and entrepreneur. Isaiah probably believed that Garrett had made a lot of drastic changes in his life. Well, Garrett could say the same about him.

"Isaiah is the most generous man I've ever met. He has a hand in that development on the other side of the river. The one with the big golf course. I think he designed it. People like Harper have found work thanks to him. A gift it is. Our community is in dire need of affordable homes, and I hear he is considering building some. For disabled people and their families going through tough times, like Harper."

Well, crap. At what point in time did Isaiah Washington become Holden, Alabama's messiah?

His previous statements were mostly threats without substance.

"The only problem is location."

"Why's that?"

Elizabeth appeared to be an information treasure.

"From what I can tell, most of the locations are private or protected from development. Unfortunately, this city has minimal suitable land for sale."

She mumbled something else about how it made things more complicated. Garrett looked down at his watch, realizing he was late to see Rhett. "I should get going. Thanks for the coffee, ma'am."

"Please. Call me Liz. Everyone else does around here," she said, beaming. "Tell Mr. Beaumont we said hello."

"Sure, Liz."

Garrett walked out of the coffee shop frustrated, annoyed, and overall uncomfortable. Sheets of rain were falling, and he could feel the sharp sting of the cold drops on his cheek. But the pain he endured was not that. He liked the sting and felt a surge of emotion.

This environment. Refreshingly cool air without the rain. The smell of the lake. In his perspective, everything was perfection. His breathing quickened, and his chest clenched as he approached the family company. There was a hole punched in his gut—a hole he had forgotten about. A hole slowly breaking open. The weight that fell on his shoulders was more than just sadness. Or depression.

Garrett felt completely alone. Embarrassed, too. His sorrow was over a life he had never experienced.

He imagined Imani tucked into his arms as they sat lovingly by a fireplace. A fire they had kindled in their universe. Or at a spot in the woods beside the stream. Maybe own a dog or two.

Isaiah's warnings and threats reminded Garrett of everything he lost, causing him great distress.

Garrett knew Imani would never give him another chance as he proceeded up the steps and into the iconic building bearing his surname. Regardless of his desire to be by her side, it didn't matter how much he craved her affection. The time had passed.

Nearly a decade too late.

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