Jobless and alone, Stanford grad Michelle sells pen and ink drawings on a busy, Manhattan street corner in order to eat. Lonely, she draws a portrait of a handsome, British lawyer whom walks by her each day. Wililam Montgomery sees the portrait... so does his mum. One problem: Michelle's nutty, estranged uncle is William's new boss; having finally found his niece, Oscar Maclane is determined to find out if Wililam is good enough for her. A sweet story about finding one's soul mate. Book one of a series; 30 long chapters.
Ebook by independent writer. Romance fiction; 30 chapters, 574 pages.
Excerpt
Behind his broad, mahogany desk, William Montgomery stared out the windows of his office; he did not really see the splendid view. A pensive look marred his features, his blue eyes troubled; piles of papers sat on his desk, unnoticed. The altercation with the pretty street artist at lunch bothered him and he couldn’t escape the urge to do something.
Like most people would have been, he was startled by the girl’s outburst but her look of acute pain and embarrassment struck William like an arrow. For the entire lunch hour following, his mother had done nothing but say she hoped the young woman was alright, where was her family, etc; she was mortified that they might have inadvertently caused the ‘poor girl’ additional suffering. She wondered if the girl really had gone to Stanford and if so, what was she doing selling drawings on the street. After seeing his mother to her car, William returned to the corner; the girl was nowhere to be found.
Standing, William walked over to a window and stood, his hands clasped behind his back. Grimly, he pondered why he’d assumed the young woman was homeless. The idea apparently insulted her. To be sure, she was sitting on the street, but she wasn’t panhandling; her clothes were worn, but they were clean and she did look as though she took care of herself. Perhaps it was her jobless condition; once she admitted she’d seen him each day, it was easy to draw the conclusion that the girl was otherwise unemployed.
Maybe it was her stained, drooping hat. William smiled, recalling her lovely eyes suddenly looking up from under the brim. It was if the sky had opened, pouring a single ray of sunlight down on her face. Though slight, the young woman possessed a haunting beauty that William could not shake from his mind; not that he tried. He appreciated a bona fide distraction the same as any man, let alone a pretty mystery-girl; one whom may need rescuing. Perhaps she might return to her corner, but it was also probable she would never come back.
“Perhaps she wants to be found.” William murmured, looking down; his window went all the way to the floor, offering a substantial view of the streets, far below. As he stared as the moving cars, he wondered about the girl. Why was she out there? The young woman certainly didn’t like her unemployed situation and was clearly mortified at being called ‘homeless’.
The heated words she shouted earlier came floating back to him; William returned to his desk. When angered, people usually give out far more information than they intended to. “A nice hotel... CPA... Stanford.” he said, as if reciting notes in a meeting. In his profession, remembering all the minute details meant the difference between losing a client and making the deal of the century. Picking up the phone, William decided that if the mystery-girl could draw an exact portrait of him without even meeting him, he could find her with just a bit of effort.
He dialed his mother’s cell number. “It’s William. Fine. What’s the name on that portrait you got today? Yes, I’ll wait.” He tapped his foot on the wood flooring, impatient to put a name to the face in his mind. “Yes? Got it.” William wrote the name given on a nearby notepad. “Thank you. No, I’ll be working late. Alfred will drive you to the station. You too. Get plenty of rest. Good bye.”
Hanging up, he read the name he’d hastily scrawled, a boyish look of satisfaction crossing his eyes. “Michelle Gregory.” he said, to himself. The name fit her; she looked like a Michelle.
Ambling absent-mindedly to the window again, William fingered the paper awhile before folding it and putting it into his pocket. Looking down at the streets, he smiled to himself. He had no idea what he’d say to her if he ever saw her again. “First...” he thought, “I have to find her.”
