Page 17 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)
Corbin
I stopped at a curbside flower shop before Eddie pulled up to meet me.
I tilted the pink peonies—Gram’s favorite—as I glanced at my watch. It was nearly seven. I worried I was going to be late. Nothing angered Buzz more than tardiness.
Eddie wove expertly through the congested grid of traffic before pulling to the curb in front of a series of brownstones.
He and I had developed the ideal driver-rider rapport over the years.
Eddie didn’t use a nav system, relying on his keen knowledge of the city and its intricate inner workings to get me where I needed to go when I needed to get there.
I hadn’t thrown a task at him that he didn’t navigate flawlessly and punctually.
I stepped out into the chilly evening air, climbing up the worn stoop, the cracked concrete serving as a reminder of how nothing escapes the ravages of time. Striding through the large ornate front door, the faint aroma of roasted herbs and something rich and buttery wafted from the dining room.
I took a breath and walked further inside, grappling with the knowledge that my time with Toni was ticking away faster than any of us wanted to admit, worried about how this place would feel without her presence in it.
“Corbin, you made it! Give me your coat. Come on inside,” Louise exclaimed, her voice brimming with warmth as she bustled toward me. Her Italian accent was still as thick as ever, even after forty years in New York .
Without waiting for me to comply, she began easing my long coat from my shoulders, shaking her head at some unseen wrinkle before hanging it neatly in the hall closet.
She patted my cheek affectionately.
“It smells wonderful in here, Louise,” I said, bending slightly to kiss both her cheeks.
She smiled, emphasizing the lines in her cheeks and around her eyes as she tucked her arm through mine.
“Well, of course it does. I made your favorite.” She led me down the marble-lined hallway toward the dining room.
Louise had been a cornerstone of this family for as long as I could remember. Hired as a maid back when Gram was overwhelmed by the size of the opulent penthouse Buzz insisted on buying. She quickly proved herself to be indispensable.
Louise was the one who made sure my favorite snacks were waiting after school, the one who taught me just because she was here didn’t mean I could let my room get messy, and the one who never let me skip my vegetables—no matter how much I begged.
She cooked, cleaned, baked, and helped raise me after I moved in with Gram and Buzz.
She wasn’t staff—she was family.
As we neared the dining room, I could hear the faint clinking of dishes and the low hum of my grandfather’s voice.
Louise gave my arm a little squeeze. “Give me those. I’ll put them in water for you,” she said as she grabbed the bouquet of peonies from me.
"About time you made it, Corbin," Buzz’s deep voice boomed across the dining room upon my entry, echoing off the expansive windows that framed the Manhattan skyline.
"Be easy on him, Johnny. He just got back to the city," my grandmother interjected gently, patting Buzz’s arm with a knowing smile.
She was the only person who dared call him Johnny instead of the nickname that had stuck with him since his Air Force days.
Buzz had earned the name during a tour overseas.
It started as “Buzzard,” a nod to his sharp instincts and relentless nature during high-stakes missions—his commanding officers had joked that he could sniff out trouble like a bird circling prey.
Over time, the nickname was shortened to Buzz, and it followed him back to civilian life.
Now, sitting at the head of the grand dining table, his silver hair neatly combed and his sharp suit perfectly tailored, Buzz still looked every inch the formidable man who once piloted fighter jets. Even at his age, he hadn’t lost the commanding presence that could fill a room.
I kissed Gram on the cheek, and she patted my arm. Despite the frailty in her touch, her smile hadn’t lost its glow.
I pulled out my chair and took my seat at Buzz’s other side. The three of us gathered on one end of the expansive mahogany dining table, its polished surface reflecting the golden light of the chandelier above.
"How was Misty Springs, Corbin? Did you enjoy your visit?" Gram asked.
My mind betrayed me instantly. It went straight to her.
I cleared my throat, trying to push Sophia from my thoughts. "It was... charming.” I tried not to choke on the word, “…in its own way. The office was impressive, and the people were... spirited."
Buzz chuckled deeply, reaching for his glass of wine. "Spirited? That’s one way to put it. I’ve seen the type of women that town churns out."
“Oh, stop it, you.” Gram gingerly lifted her arm to slap at him, the effort appearing more taxing than it should have been. She turned her attention back to me. "It sounds like Misty Springs left quite the impression."
I forced a polite smile, picking up my glass of water to avoid meeting her eyes. "It’s a far cry from New York, that’s for sure."
Louise emerged from the kitchen carrying a crystal vase filled with peonies. She gently placed them in the center of the table, and Gram’s face lit up as she took in the flowers.
“From you, Corbin?”
I nodded, wishing I could do more to help her in this losing battle besides occasionally giving her something to smile about.
Buzz nodded approvingly before his cell phone rang out. The noise made Gram jump, and she gave Buzz a stern look of disapproval .
Buzz pulled the phone from his pocket and quickly silenced the call. He placed the device face down on the table and waved his hands in the air in an apologetic surrender.
“Tell me everything, Corbin. Did you visit the library? I read they just had the centennial celebration. Didn’t you love the downtown area?” Gram’s eyes lit up as they peered into mine.
Guilt tugged at my chest. “I didn’t have a chance. There wasn’t much time.”
“Corbin was there to launch the branch, Toni. He has a lot of work to do.” Buzz added, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“Well, maybe after the work is done, you can enjoy the town,” Gram said, grabbing a cloth napkin and placing it on her lap.
My lips formed a straight line. The only thing I’d enjoy about the town is leaving it for good. But I wasn’t going to voice that out loud.
Louise returned moments later, balancing plates of osso buco served over a velvety saffron risotto. On the side, she brought roasted asparagus spears and freshly baked focaccia.
“Louise, this looks incredible,” I said, eyeing the spread before me. Though I never expected anything less, her meals were never simple.
Louise took her spot beside Gram. The conversation drifted between questions about whether buildings were still the same in Misty Springs and the occasional affectionate ribbing from Buzz—Gram didn’t like business talk at the table—she deftly kept him in check.
When the meal ended, I helped Louise clear the table, stacking plates and gathering silverware.
As I carried the dishes into the kitchen, the faint hum of conversation from the dining room followed me.
When I returned to grab another stack of dishes, the atmosphere had shifted, heavy with a tension that made me pause just outside the door.
Gram’s voice, tinged with panic, cut through the quiet. “Johnny, you’re working James too hard. He needs to rest. His heart hasn’t been the same since she left. It’s going to catch up to him.”
The words hit me hard in the chest and digging in .
Buzz sat stiffly at the table, his large hands resting on its edge. His face was pained with a helpless sort of sorrow and silence on his lips, for this was a conversation in futility.
A side effect of the cancer, her memories shuffled, and her sense of time ebbed and flowed. Right now, she was stuck in the past, dredging up ghosts that I preferred stay buried.
James. My father. Dead for nearly fifteen years.
Gram’s words hung in the air, pulling me back to a time I tried not to revisit.
My mother walking out when I was ten. My father’s descent into the dark comfort of alcohol and overworking. The sixteen-hour days he threw himself into as if trying to outrun his grief. The nights he drowned himself in bottles, leaving me to fend for myself.
I was an afterthought, a fleeting concern in a life consumed by loss and self-destruction. By the time he died, I had long since detached, already living with Gram and Buzz as if I were their son instead of his.
My father was on a path to take over the company—until his vices gutted his reputation and took his future with them. I’d seen firsthand how quickly a legacy could unravel, how one man’s weakness could poison everything he built.
From my first day at Buescher Enterprises, I vowed that no one would ever have reason to draw a line between my father and me. Every move I made was measured—every decision calculated.
I shaped myself into the kind of man the board could trust without question—disciplined, dependable, unshakable.
My reputation wasn’t just important. It was everything.
I stepped back into the kitchen, unwilling to face the demons in the dining room.
I forced a smile, asking Louise, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions. “What can I do to help with dessert?”