Revamped Chapter 1, Sequel, Falling for Her Heart, Pt. 2

[ladyauthor2b]

(Contination from Part 1.....) 

Meanwhile, back at the department store, the chance sighting did cause an equal reaction. As the limousine disappeared around the corner, Jimmy swallowed hard and then rubbed tired eyes, "It couldn't be," he muttered out loud.

 "What's wrong, Jim?" Chris Summers, his red bandana companion stared out the window as well, "Did you know that chick in the limo?"

 This played on Jimmy's nerves.   They had been shopping together for hours and in this excursion, Chris remained an annoyance at every turn. Pointing out the woman seemed the last straw. In disgust, Jimmy stuck everything back on the display. 

 "Hey, man," Chris cried out, now alarmed, noticing that Jimmy's face scowled, "What's the matter?"

 "Nothing," Jimmy snapped, so tired of his cousin's zany whims, "You annoy the hell out of me! Let's get out of here!"

 "What about the gift for Mr. Stanton?"

 Not caring, Jimmy stormed up the aisle to get to the front door and so Chris trotted to catch up.  They made their way outside into the cold night. Something compelled Jimmy to look down the street again.  Why do I care? Chris joined him at his side.

 "You know, you should lighten up man," the tall man sighed while buttoning up the faded blue jean jacket.  The two stared at each other for a moment.  Without dropping a beat Chris asked, "Who was that in the car?" 

 "It looked like her!" Jimmy yelped and then swore incoherently under his breath.

 Surely, Chris knew the implication. Even now, Jimmy shook off a deep ache, seeping up like bad heartburn; a tormented thing. Why couldn't he ever lose these hurting sentiments-residual feelings- for on old girlfriend?  Chris clicked his tongue out loud. Usually, he would encourage Jimmy to express feelings out loud instead of bottling them up, but not this time.

 "Wow! You still think about that?  She is history, old buddy, and that girl is probably off somewhere - who knows where - happily married with two or three children.  I am sure she does not think about you anymore! Let her go man!"

 Angry at the summation, Jimmy went to the black car parked along the curbside and unlocked it with a remote key.

 "Get in!" he barked. Chris obeyed and sank inside.  The passenger seat, already as far back as it would go, barely accommodated his long legs.  Jimmy had bought it for the sporty style. The engine roared into the night as the car blasted from the curb, being pushed beyond the legal speed.  Chris mumbled under his breath again, "Just let her go."

Across town, at the entrance of the Tessareau Plaza, the bright lights spilled into the limousine. Tara blinked eyes to adjust.  The building stood recognizable all over the world, with marble columns and tropical plants around the revolving brass doors.  She departed the vehicle to walk into the lobby of dark burgundy furniture and gold chrome fixtures. Tom and Ross Kelly stood across the way and went over to greet her.

"Hello Tara! How was your flight? Good, I hope," Ross asked, while grasping her body with great familiarity. Five o'clock shadow brushed against fair cheeks. Tara whiffed in the fragrant after-shave cologne.  

"Yes, I survived -even with minor air turbulence over the ocean," she replied and pushed against him to keep discreet space. Just his touch sent quivers throughout, which she fought to ignore, "It seemed very bumpy and I swore that the overhead luggage shifted somewhat, but nothing fell out when we landed."

"Were you worried that one would strike your noggin? You look no less for wear," Ross teased, but didn't give her time to respond. He stepped aside so their son could embrace his mother.

 "Hello, mum. Welcome home," Sixteen year old Tom smiled. He offered a button of an American flag to place upon her lapel and tried not to poke her with the pin. Tara took a moment to study Tom over. The boy, quite dashing in a red Prada shirt, flashed dark eyes inherited from Ross. A same left dimple graced his face. Tom usually mimicked his father's fashion tastes. 

"Why Tom, you look terrific this evening. This color highlights your eyes."

"Thanks mum. I dressed up since Dad and I went out to eat. We saw a new holiday movie. Nothing corny though."

"Your father spoils you," she smiled and then turned to Ross, "By the way, Ross-did you check me in?"

"Yes, of course I did.  I know that you like to unwind. Follow me," Ross took a few steps forward to motion the bell hops to come up. Three obliged to grab the luggage as Tom escorted his mother towards the elevator.

 "Now, tell me," Tara quizzed, "How are things? Have you settled well at your uncle's house?"

"Oh, yes, mum. It's great to hear Uncle Mick bellow to keep our voices down. I didn't think I missed it, but I did. Yet, we all know that he's so harmless, unless you make him really mad," Tom laughed. "Aunt Anna is terrific!  She goes out of her way to ensure that we are comfortable. I really like their place."

"The change of venue suits you, I think. You look rested and I know that look- that uncanny light in your eye. Something's up. Spill the beans, won't you?"

At the elevator, Ross said to the attendant, "The Tessareau Suite, please." The uniformed man studied Tara as she stepped in with the entourage. He stood at attention and straightened his attire. Only important company dignitaries or their family members occupied the top floor. He must look his best. The elevator ascended to the top suite. 

"Well, as a matter of fact, I have something for you to consider," Tom said in a thick English accent. He pulled a brochure from his pants pocket, "Look at this."

"What is it, Tom?"

 "It's a map of all the local schools in the area.  Just think about this a moment: If we happen to stay on for awhile, can't we attend? Frankly, I think tutors are boring."

 Tom paused, offering a sly pout and sad eyes like a puppy-an expression acquired from his father. She didn't wish to fall for it.

 "Now, Thomas Ross Kelly! Why?  The tutors work out just fine. If you want a classroom setting, why not wait until you can attend a university in the fall?"

 "That's too far off, mum! Why not make friends now, at a real school?"

 "You have friends- in the village! I bet they are already planning for your return, to plot adventures for the summertime. Wait until then to check out universities closer to home for next fall. Perhaps your father will take you around Europe. Then you can shop in Paris or visit the ruins in Rome. Besides, this visit is only temporary. You best remember that."

 "Yes, temporary," he mumbled, as eyes cast their gaze towards the ground.

 "Let's be realistic, Tom," Tara replied in a soothing tone, not wishing any of her children discontent, "We came to give our band a go in the states. What if we earn lots of public attention? Wouldn't it be difficult to remain safe?  Don't you recall how things were when we found fame in England? Fans surrounded you on the way to school. Paparazzi showed up on a dime. We had no choice but to hire body guards and then to yank you out of school altogether. That's the reasons for the tutors.  Would new friends care for such a situation?"

 Tom contemplated this but only for a moment. How he had loved close camaraderie of many friends. Surely it would take time to develop fame in new settings. So much like his mother, Tom reacted-just as stubborn. 

 "Well, mum, I follow a beat to a different drum. You've always told me to trust my intuition. I believe this place is safe. I love it here! Everything is different," he said with zest, "And we did talk about a college. Just look at this picture of the university here.  Dad drove us over for a look see!"

 Tara glared at Ross and before she could speak, he cut in.

 "Now, Tara, he is your son!" 

 There! The insinuation that Tom's passion came from her, but in a bad way.  Tara realized she couldn't ever deny how she chased rainbows without ever truly being cautious.  So she was flawed, but for Tom, there could be hope. If only he sharpened instincts to match his father! Ross evaluated everything before leaping- except once-upon a careless evening when the two had a one night stand that led Tom to exist.

 They stepped off the elevator into a foyer. At the suite door, an attendant used a magnetized card key, taking many attempts to get the green light to come on. Once unlocked, he handed it to Tara, who frowned. She hated using them. Ross walked inside, but Tara didn't lose track of their discussion.

 "Yes, Ross, but he's our responsibility.  We should think his ideas through-together-rationally."

 Ross remained silent while the luggage was taken into the main bedroom. He offered the men a generous tip as they exited while Tom went to the bar area. He knew what his mom preferred, but fumbled at the ingredients.

 "Honestly, mum, don't fuss at Dad. Please allow this.  If so, mischief will be tucked away like a wool sock in the bureau," he promised, "Really, I'm not the only one intrigued by this! So are Aaron and The Seven! We've talked about it. You just have to agree."

 Tom handed over the drink and then sat across from his mother, waiting.

 "Oh, really?" Tara exhaled, venting out exhaustion and collapsing onto the nearby plush sofa, drink in hand. She gulped it down. The Seven remained the family nickname given to her fraternal septuplets. Along with Aaron, the youngest child, they all grew up together, but the septuplets dominated everything in their unique household.  How ready they were for new transitions. Perhaps things in the new settings seemed too fascinating, with closer neighbors and interesting places to visit.  Fearful of this, Tara offered a sigh, which Ross understood.  

 "Now, son, it's late. Your mum is tired and can't think straight. We can discuss this over some other time. You'll not get anywhere tonight. Believe me," Ross coaxed Tom out of his seat, "Hang onto your brochure."

   Tom stepped forward to kiss her goodbye.

 "Please consider it, mum, but for now, get a goodnight's rest. We'll talk tomorrow."

 "Good night, sweetheart," Tara conveyed. Ross went towards the door, but Tara called out. "Ross, wait. Tom can meet you downstairs. I want to tell you something."

 (to be continued)