“It’s beautiful.” Art was Cami’s other passion besides acquiring properties at rock-bottom prices then developing them just enough to sell at top prices. She’d minored in art appreciation at the University of Georgia because she loved it. But jobs in art appreciation were hard to come by.
When Dad had offered to “show her the ropes” at Akron, she’d jumped at the chance. Not because she loved numbers and spreadsheets or walking rundown properties and negotiating the best deal, but because she wanted to be near the man who seemed to hold her at arm’s length.
Hadn’t taken too long to discover she was a chip off the old block, which meant she didn’t have time to pursue her own art anymore. She used her artistic skills in contract negotiations and seeing the potential of a property.
In the meantime, she helped friends like Angie pick out pieces for their homes and offices. Cami studied the picture, zooming in on simple lines, the contrasting colors, the dynamic scene. “It looks like a Briana Jones. Did they name the artist?”
Angie shook her head, her dark hair pinned up behind her ears and flowing in a straight curtain down her neck. “Is it good? I love it, but what do I know? Liam really wants to invest in a piece of art. Do you think this would be a good one?”
“Honestly, there’s always a risk in buying artwork as an investment when you don’t know the artist. But this picture is reminiscent of Briana Jones, a student of Georgia O’Keeffe who modeled her style with a modern twist. If it’s one of hers it would be an incredible find. Ask the seller to look for a BJ somewhere in the scene. Briana likes to hide her signature. Often people don’t know they have expensive artwork and let it go for pennies. Even if it isn’t valuable, if you like it, it would be a good investment. Art is meant to be enjoyed.”
“Thank you, Cami.” Angie clutched her phone to her chest. “I’ll ask, but I do love it. I’ll tell Liam it’s a Briana Jones, because I really want this.” She laughed and winked at Cami, taking steps down the hallway. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Cami closed her office door, which meant leave me be, and checked her email, but her heart more and more tangled in Dad’s news.
You’re heading up Indy.
All right. She’d do what she always did. Follow orders. Own the field. And if success in Indy got her promoted to veep, well, she was all in.
Cami opened the folder and reviewed the details, made notes, and started an email of to-dos for Astrid. She messaged Marta, who texted back right away.
Are you kidding? Really? Well, let me get to work.
Yes, get to work. It seemed the only way for Cami to wrap her heart around this sudden and jarring new direction.
Her phone pinged. Annalise. Reminding her they had a sister night.
Don’t forget. Six o’clock. Don’t be late. It’s supposed to rain, and I want to be at the restaurant before it starts. Wear sensible shoes!
Cami laughed. One time she’d worn stilettos to a garden wedding and spent the entire evening aerating the soil with her heels.
But once a big sister, always a big sister. After their mom had died, Annalise, who was five years older, had owned the mother role. She’d even moved home while she finished college just to be around for Cami during her final high school years. No amount of reminders that Cami was all grown up now, a college graduate and successful businesswoman, would change anything for Annalise. And Cami loved her for it.
Cami responded, promising to be on time, then went back to her email. A new one had just dropped in from Keith Niven, the Hearts Bend Realtor who kept in touch with Akron folk about properties in the small, quaint town of Hearts Bend northwest of Nashville.
Cami clicked on the email. What are you up to, Keith?
She liked the gregarious Realtor. Perhaps he had ambitions outside of his small town. With his good looks and energy, he’d be a good addition to Akron. It was a wonder Dad hadn’t recruited him. A few years ago he’d worked hard to get Dad the property on Blossom. The old Wedding Shop. But the historical society had stepped in and ended their journey.
She jotted down his name as a potential for the Indy office, then skimmed Keith’s email.
She’d couldn’t imagine wanting anything in Hearts Bend, the town where her heart had literally, suddenly, in one afternoon, bent until it was completely broken. She’d not been back in fifteen years.
Unique property…interested in…Hearts Bend Inn.
Cami fired to her feet, nearly toppling her chair. The Hearts Bend Inn was for sale? She read the email in earnest.
There’s a unique property potentially coming on the market you may be interested in. Mrs. Carter died. It’s rumored the Hearts Bend Inn will go up for sale. I thought I’d reach out. You mentioned to me once you had fond memories there. It’s not the multimillion-dollar property you usually acquire, but I thought you might want to take a look.
There it was. A little tug, the feeling of belonging. Of home. For a moment, the urge to return to the inn overpowered her. She wrestled with the sentiment but couldn’t completely stop the whispers over her heart.
She hadn’t been back to the inn since she was a scared, grieving fifteen-year-old. She wasn’t sure she wanted to return now as a strong, confident almost-thirty-year-old. There were too many memories, too many buried emotions. In many ways, she wanted to forget. In others, she wanted to leave her past resting, at peace, the images, and feelings undisturbed by time.
Still, with Indy looming on her horizon, maybe a final goodbye to Hearts Bend and the inn, Mom’s favorite place on earth, would do her good. The place might be sold to someone else in the next year.
Change was imminent.
Dad had warned her to stay focused, but there was nothing in Hearts Bend to distract her. Nothing to keep her from proving she was ready and able to take over his company.
