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Book: Determined: To Love: (Part 2 of the Determined Trilogy) by Elizabeth Brown
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Authors: Elizabeth Brown
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gotten up early for a virtual meeting with his London office. That meant I had the entire, enormous bed to myself for the morning. I pulled a magazine out of my bag and was reading about the latest celebrity wedding when Hilde knocked on the bedroom door. She poked her head in first, and then followed with a French press of coffee and a gooey cinnamon roll on a small white plate.
“Hilde, you are awesome, you know that, right?” I said, sliding upright.
“Oh, I’m just so glad I have someone to bake for, Miss. Mr. Keith prefers… other things,” she said, sweetly.
“Like kale smoothies?” I joked.
She leaned in, “Tastes like hedge trimmings, if you ask me,” she whispered, her low voice edged with a husky German accent.
“I knew I liked you, Hilde,” I said with a smile. She winked and left the items on the bedside table.
I ran my fingertip along a drip of icing and tasted it. Incredible. David didn’t know what he was missing. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sunk back into the sea of pillows, entirely content.
~
Later that morning, the drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and up to Tiburon was beautiful; the sparkling coast giving way to little towns nestled amongst rolling green hills. I fiddled with one of my earrings, unable to stop the nerves churning in my stomach. Was I crazy to be meeting with this woman? After all, she was practically a total stranger. Sure, I was starting to outgrow my job with the Kinsler Gallery, but weren’t there more sensible ways to start a job hunt? Maybe apply at a museum or an auction house? Self-doubt took over. Was I even qualified for a job like this? I didn’t have any experience as an art buyer.
I resolved to calm down until I learned more. No one was forcing me to decide anything now, anyway. This was just lunch. Information gathering. Nothing more. I pulled out my phone and typed her name into a quick Google search. An accountant in Michigan, an Italian author, there were many Gina Morettis. I’d need to learn more about her before I could pin down which one I was having lunch with.
I hadn’t been to Tiburon before, despite having grown up in the Bay Area. It was a small, affluent town with a yacht harbor and an epic view of the San Francisco skyline from across the bay. We passed through the downtown area in less than five minutes and headed out along a street that traced the water. Winding through grand bay vistas, we zig-zagged past the homes of the wealthy, perfect in their understated opulence.
At long last, we hit the end of the road, and Elliot continued onto a long driveway. It ended at the front door of a large, modern residence constructed of glass and concrete. I couldn’t see the water, but heard soft waves lapping, so I knew we were close. I nodded at Elliot as I walked to the front door and rang the bell.
The front door was made of glass as well, and almost immediately, a large German Shepherd appeared behind it. It started barking when it saw me. I glanced back at the car, double checking that Elliot was still there. He was.
Then Gina Moretti appeared behind the glass. She grabbed the dog by the collar and shouted something at him before opening the door.
“Samantha. Hi. Thank you for coming,” she said between barks, “Sorry about Finn here. He just doesn’t know you yet. Finn this is Samantha, be nice to her. She is going to help Mummy out.”
I glanced at the dog. He was big… bigger than most German Shepherds I’d seen. Still, I bent over and put out my hand so he could smell me. “Hi Finn. I have a dog, too. His name is Rex.” I said, looking back at Gina. She smiled. Finn sniffed my hand tentatively, and then reached out and licked it gently. “Oh, you are just a big softy, aren’t you, boy?” I patted him on the neck.
“He is. He’s my big spoiled baby. What kind of dog is Rex?” she asked, smiling.
“He’s a sheepdog. Ten years old. He lives with my parents down in Saratoga. How old is Finn?”
“He’s
“Hilde, you are awesome, you know that, right?” I said, sliding upright.
“Oh, I’m just so glad I have someone to bake for, Miss. Mr. Keith prefers… other things,” she said, sweetly.
“Like kale smoothies?” I joked.
She leaned in, “Tastes like hedge trimmings, if you ask me,” she whispered, her low voice edged with a husky German accent.
“I knew I liked you, Hilde,” I said with a smile. She winked and left the items on the bedside table.
I ran my fingertip along a drip of icing and tasted it. Incredible. David didn’t know what he was missing. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sunk back into the sea of pillows, entirely content.
~
Later that morning, the drive across the Golden Gate Bridge and up to Tiburon was beautiful; the sparkling coast giving way to little towns nestled amongst rolling green hills. I fiddled with one of my earrings, unable to stop the nerves churning in my stomach. Was I crazy to be meeting with this woman? After all, she was practically a total stranger. Sure, I was starting to outgrow my job with the Kinsler Gallery, but weren’t there more sensible ways to start a job hunt? Maybe apply at a museum or an auction house? Self-doubt took over. Was I even qualified for a job like this? I didn’t have any experience as an art buyer.
I resolved to calm down until I learned more. No one was forcing me to decide anything now, anyway. This was just lunch. Information gathering. Nothing more. I pulled out my phone and typed her name into a quick Google search. An accountant in Michigan, an Italian author, there were many Gina Morettis. I’d need to learn more about her before I could pin down which one I was having lunch with.
I hadn’t been to Tiburon before, despite having grown up in the Bay Area. It was a small, affluent town with a yacht harbor and an epic view of the San Francisco skyline from across the bay. We passed through the downtown area in less than five minutes and headed out along a street that traced the water. Winding through grand bay vistas, we zig-zagged past the homes of the wealthy, perfect in their understated opulence.
At long last, we hit the end of the road, and Elliot continued onto a long driveway. It ended at the front door of a large, modern residence constructed of glass and concrete. I couldn’t see the water, but heard soft waves lapping, so I knew we were close. I nodded at Elliot as I walked to the front door and rang the bell.
The front door was made of glass as well, and almost immediately, a large German Shepherd appeared behind it. It started barking when it saw me. I glanced back at the car, double checking that Elliot was still there. He was.
Then Gina Moretti appeared behind the glass. She grabbed the dog by the collar and shouted something at him before opening the door.
“Samantha. Hi. Thank you for coming,” she said between barks, “Sorry about Finn here. He just doesn’t know you yet. Finn this is Samantha, be nice to her. She is going to help Mummy out.”
I glanced at the dog. He was big… bigger than most German Shepherds I’d seen. Still, I bent over and put out my hand so he could smell me. “Hi Finn. I have a dog, too. His name is Rex.” I said, looking back at Gina. She smiled. Finn sniffed my hand tentatively, and then reached out and licked it gently. “Oh, you are just a big softy, aren’t you, boy?” I patted him on the neck.
“He is. He’s my big spoiled baby. What kind of dog is Rex?” she asked, smiling.
“He’s a sheepdog. Ten years old. He lives with my parents down in Saratoga. How old is Finn?”
“He’s
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