Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE PAGE-TURNING NOVELS OF MILLENIA BLACK

  Acclaim for

  The Great Pretender

  “An original and deftly written novel…warmly recommended as an emotionally charged, superbly presented saga of human failings and frailties—and the need to measure up and transcend the habit-forming lies of the past.” –Midwest Book Review

  “What a story! It made me wonder if I can install a LoJack on my husband before his next business trip. Do they make one for men?” –Lisa Earle McLeod, author of The Triangle of Truth

  “Millenia Black’s first novel is a compelling, fast-paced story with intriguing, believable characters. It’s a real page-turner! I was involved from beginning to end. ” –Judith Henry Wall, author of The Surrogate

  “Millenia Black is a great storyteller…The Great Pretender is realistic; its characters are fully complex and their dialogue is authentic. With the use of small, inconsequential interruptions in complex situations, Millenia Black paints a scene that is so genuine, it flows like true life. Someone call HBO! The Great Pretender could easily be The Sopranos of South Florida.” –The Sunpiper Press

  Acclaim for

  The Great Betrayal

  “Intensely intriguing and deeply riveting, Black's latest is a first-rate page-turner that will draw you in from the very beginning and never let go. This is women's fiction at its best, with a twist of psychological thriller and a touch of romance. Leslie is an enigmatic and deeply developed protagonist…”

  –Sheri Melnick, Top Pick - Romantic Times Book Review

  “Millenia Black is a mistress at neatly laying out each part of the story…She clearly and succinctly draws verbal pictures of each character and their interrelationships with each other. It is masterful…A thought provoking, extremely well-written book, this one will haunt your thoughts long after you’ve finished the novel.”

  –Jeri Neal, The Romance Readers Connection

  “On a scale from 1-10, I definitely give this book 10. Ms. Black is a talented writer, and I can’t wait to read many more of her books like The Great Pretender and her next book, The Great Mastermind. If you like a book with romance, family obstacles and scandals, The Great Betrayal by Millenia Black is a must-read for you.”

  –Carol Ann Culbert Johnson, MyShelf.com

  “Leslie is one of the best protagonists of the year…Fans of deep psychological character studies will want to read Millenia Black's strong tale.”

  –Harriet Klausner, Amazon.com

  RAINDROPS ON ROSES

  A Novella

  Favorite Things Trilogy

  Millenia Black

  ***~***

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2014 Millenia Black, Inc.

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is also available in print at most major retailers.

  Discover Other Titles by Millenia Black:

  NOVELS

  The Great Pretender

  The Great Betrayal

  (Sneak peek at the end of this book!)

  NONFICTION

  7 Smoke Signals Your Man is Living a Double Life

  ***~***

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***~***

  All rights reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this novel are the sole property of Millenia Black, Inc. and no other person alive or dead. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves.

  —William Penn

  He that is jealous is not in love.

  —Saint Augustine

  • CONTENTS •

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Epilogue

  Join the Mailing List

  Questions for Discussion

  Acknowledgements

  EXCLUSIVE PREVIEW of THE GREAT BETRAYAL!

  Connect with the Author

  • PROLOGUE •

  The photographers were everywhere. Everyone wanted the perfect shot of the glistening, ivory white casket. Its sparkling silver accents marked an elegance befitting the final resting place of a well-beloved and timeless Hollywood leading lady.

  Judy Garland's beautiful rendition of "Danny Boy" soared throughout the courtyard as people left the church heading for their vehicles, with most declining to be interviewed by the barrage of reporters.

  "...and her family members and close friends—including rarely seen show business icons like Maria Lansbury, Heather de Bray and Liza Bertoff—are all gathered here behind me at the First Presbyterian Church on Florida's Mayfair Island. They've come from all over the world to say goodbye and to honor the life of a true Hollywood legend, the incomparable Veronica Bauer, who died suddenly of an apparent heart attack last Sunday at the age of seventy-four.

  "A double Academy Award winner, Bauer retired from Hollywood at the height of her career nearly fifty years ago, and together with her late husband, the legendary film producer George Bauer, she went on in the late 1960s to launch one of the world's most successful ultra-luxury hotel chains, the now world famous and exclusive Favorite Things boutique hotels.

  "Bauer, who'd been notoriously reclusive over the years, is survived by her two grandchildren: Douglas and Priscilla. And all eyes are on them right now as public interest in Veronica Bauer's life and legacy continues to grow.

  "This is Diane O’Dell reporting live from Mayfair, Florida, WSTN news."

  • CHAPTER ONE •

  The day was dreary and upsetting, and just what you'd expect for a funeral.

  Michael Frost looked up at the sky, and breathed the somber atmosphere. He could feel the old lady's presence, rich and palpable in the fresh evening air.

  A noisy mob of reporters and paparazzi were camped outside the church. Like a pack of wild vultures, they were obnoxiously pushing and shouting with invasive cameras and microphones. Legal or not, Michael thought their presence there was terribly rude and disrespectful, and he felt badly for the Bauer family.

  "Mr. Eastwood! Mr. Eastwood!" a young reporter shouted from behind the guardrail. "You starred with Veronica Bauer in Dear Justice—
any comment on her sudden passing?"

  "Douglas!" another yelled, "Douglas, one question! Will there be a public memorial service?"

  Yet another, with a dated mullet, flashed his press pass and shouted: "Mr. Bauer! Is it true she left the bulk of her estate to a secret love child?"

  Oh, my God, thought Michael. This is awful. How can these creeps be allowed to disrupt a funeral service this way?

  As they all continued shouting unchecked, Michael became increasingly uncomfortable and even more sorry he'd agreed to come here in the first place. Disgusted by the press, he pushed his way through the crowd, made it through security and got inside as quickly as possible.

  I've never even seen one of her movies, he thought, as he caught sight of the glistening white casket up ahead. He looked around the church, eyeing everyone, and tried getting his mind off of his mom and sister. Instead he focused on a few of the celebrities, who had arrived in their long, sleek limousines and were surrounded by legions of security detail.

  Of course, just about everyone was wearing black and Michael felt engulfed in a sea of dark cloth, pushing him slowly down the aisle to witness death once again.

  Quieting the discomfort in his heart and mind, he closed his eyes and waited patiently for his turn to pay respects.

  Suddenly a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Hey," said Larry Frost, his deep voice interrupting Michael's thoughts. "I'm right behind you."

  "Dad," he said, turning around. "Let's just go now. I hate this."

  "Look, we drove all this way," his father whispered. "Just forget those crummy reporters out there. Let's appreciate that we got the chance to send Mrs. Bauer off with our best regards and wish the family well, okay? It's the least we can do."

  Really? Michael thought, knowing his father's real motives had more to do with client retention than best regards or well wishes.

  When the line moved again it was finally their turn. Michael stepped forward, held his breath, and looked down into the casket. He gently laid a red carnation beside the silver-haired legend, amongst all the other flowers.

  Glancing only briefly at her waxy face, he focused instead on how the red of his carnation stood out amidst the plethora of pinks and whites surrounding it. He couldn’t help staring. It lay just below her elbow and looked like a fitting symbol of respect and admiration for a woman who had lived her own life, and had certainly lived it well.

  When the service was over and they were back outside, most of the media vultures had packed up to follow the procession to the burial ground where she would be laid to rest. Michael rode along with his father and left his own car at the church.

  Once they reached the cemetery, with everyone gathered around the coffin, the pastor spoke kind words and led a prayer in a soft and comforting tone. A few hymns were sung and several mourners wept openly into handkerchiefs.

  As he stood there staring at nothing, Michael found himself wondering if this lady was now in the same place as his own beloved ones...

  Suddenly, the casket began its descent into the ground and scattered his thoughts. He was transfixed as he watched it going down, the crank gears squeaking ever so quietly. The crowd then began to disperse, leaving mostly grieving family members behind.

  The men had begun shoveling in the dirt, and Michael was turning to leave when he noticed something yellow fall in. Leaning forward, he saw that it was a bright yellow rose. He glanced up to see where it had come from—and then froze.

  Wow, he thought, staring. She's gorgeous.

  She was wearing a simple, yet sophisticated black dress and jacket. Her raven black hair held dark sunglasses in its lushness and she had somewhat of a Mediterranean complexion with a face of fine features that almost stopped Michael's heart. He couldn't stop staring.

  Who is that? he wondered.

  Unmindful of those still standing around them, Michael found himself walking over. "Why yellow?" he heard himself ask her gently.

  She looked up in surprise, and he saw tears glistening in her dark blue eyes. They were also red and swollen, heavy with apparent grief.

  Oh, no, he thought as an urge seized him. He wanted to reach out and draw this lovely girl in to his chest, but he resisted and didn't move, so his arms hung heavily by his sides.

  She was looking at him curiously now, and Michael just stood there, still staring.

  "Oh, I'm sorry." She cleared her throat. "You mean the rose..." She turned and glanced back down into the grave. Taking a deep breath, she said, "It's for sunshine. She always said I was her sunshine. So it's like she's taking a bit of it with her."

  She was almost whispering, but Michael was so captivated by her mouth that he could've read every syllable, word for word. "Well, that’s a nice gesture," he said, following her gaze. "Who is she to you? If you don't mind me asking."

  They watched as the yellow rose disappeared beneath the dirt.

  "She's my grandmother," she replied. "I'm Priscilla Bauer."

  "Oh." Instinctively, Michael's hand raised and touched her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but he quickly drew it back. Don't touch her, you idiot. "Well, I'm Michael Frost," he said. "And I want to tell you how sorry we are for your family's loss, Priscilla. Frosted Designs has worked for your grandmother for a very long time now." And as if on cue, he noticed his father tapping his foot, tall and strapping off in the distance.

  Then a dark-haired young man in a black suit appeared, saying, "Cilla, it's time we got back to the house."

  Michael looked him over, wondering who he was.

  Priscilla Bauer dried her face with a Kleenex and turned to go but hesitated, looking back at Michael.

  He didn’t know what else to say, but he didn't want her leaving just yet either.

  The man addressed Michael as he took Priscilla's arm. "Have you been invited to join us back at Emerald Leas, Mister...?"

  "Frost. Michael Frost."

  "Oh, Michael, yes—it's nice to finally meet you. I'm Douglas Bauer." They shook hands. "I know your father. He's done some excellent work for us over the years. I'm a big fan."

  "Thank you," said Michael. "He's always spoken very highly of Mrs. Bauer and Bauer Enterprises."

  "Glad to hear it," said Douglas. "So we'll see you back at the house, then?"

  "Absolutely. I'll go find my father."

  •~•

  When they were back on the road, heading to the church to pick up Michael's car, he tried to avoid his father's gaze as much as possible but he knew what was coming.

  "I saw you out there, Michael," he finally said. "What in the hell were you thinking?"

  Michael let the question go unanswered, not wanting to validate his father's paranoia, especially since he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. So biting his lip, he kept his eyes on the stretch limousines up ahead. "What are you so uptight about?" he ventured to ask when the silence had turned unbearably tense.

  For a moment it seemed his father wouldn't answer.

  "I don’t want to lose the account, all right? Now that Mrs. Bauer is gone, God only knows who'll be in charge. Suppose some other outfit moves in on us? Convinces them to go for a fresh look, or even completely rebrand?"

  Michael shook his head. The thinking was so cynical—and so predictably Larry Frost.

  So keeping his head averted, he kept his mouth shut and didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride.

  •~•

  Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the Bauers' guard-gated estate. The residence had been built at least a mile from the main road, the full length of which was covered by a canopy of towering green trees. The sprawling area surrounding the main house was very brightly lit, a blunt contrast of the somber occasion.

  Michael's mind was racing as he parked and left his car. When he turned toward the house, he caught a glimpse of her exiting the limousine and going up the front steps.

  She's young, but so poised and graceful, he observed, completely turned on.

  They were quickly ushered inside
where family members, close friends and some hotel employees were having drinks, eating food, mingling and chatting in an atmosphere that echoed the sting of a recent loss.

  Michael and his father mingled as well, making small talk with the other guests. Soon after, Douglas Bauer approached them with a drink in hand. "Mr. Frost, thank you so much for coming," he said with a smile. He had a vague European accent. "You know how much she loved your work. It's unfortunate this happened before she could sign off on those ballroom sketches you sent in for Blue Satin. But after seeing it, I'm pretty sure it's a signature design she would be proud of."