Orchid Blooming Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  ORCHID BLOOMING

  “Tension and compelling chemistry that will leave you breathless.”

  —Barbara Conrey, USA Today bestselling author of Nowhere Near Goodbye

  “A love story for our times, Orchid Blooming reminds us of the power of empathy and will stay with you long after the last page.”

  —Lainey Cameron, award-winning author and host of The Best of Women's Fiction podcast

  “Precise and alluring command of language. Orchid Blooming’s compelling imagery kept me reading. Another gold medal is on the horizon!”

  —SSGT Aaron Michael Grant, author of Taking Baghdad: Victory in Iraq with the US Marines

  “Rich with strong characters and a powerful sense of place, Orchid and Phoenix’s story is also an important message about the serious nature of post-traumatic stress disorder, the importance of honesty in a relationship, and the enduring power of love and forgiveness.”

  —Susan Cushman, author of eight books, including Pilgrim Interrupted and John and Mary Margaret

  “Five-stars for Orchid Blooming! This page-turning novel is modern, ambitious, tempestuous, and ultimately gut wrenching. Torn between two conflicting worlds, Orchid must find the courage to forge her own path, even as she fears losing everything she holds dear.”

  —Rebecca Rosenburg, award-winning author of Champagne Widows

  Orchid Blooming

  by Carol Van Den Hende

  © Copyright 2022 Carol Van Den Hende

  ISBN 978-1-958223-02-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  REBBL® Elixirs is a trademark of REBBL Inc.

  and used with permission of the company

  Published by

  ORCHID BLOOMING

  A childhood tragedy followed her into adult life. Will she ever claim real happiness again?

  Twenty-seven-year-old Orchid Paige will never forget that day. Living as best she can after witnessing her parents’ fatal accident, the beauty industry marketer yearns to win a promotion to China to connect to her mom’s ancestry. But with competition fierce, she despairs she’ll never make the grade… until she meets an encouraging man who makes her feel safe despite her usual distrust.

  After Orchid convinces the handsome entrepreneur to let her gain experience at his nonprofit project, she’s determined to keep their relationship professional and ignore their powerful attraction. But when working on his military ad campaign for veterans triggers her own unresolved PTSD, she fears her confident mentor may be too good to be true even if she could trust him with her heart.

  Can she conquer her vulnerabilities before she loses her chance at forever?

  CONTENTS

  Praise for Orchid Blooming * Copyright * About Orchid Blooming * Dedication * Epithet

  Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 * Chapter 19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Chapter 22 * Chapter 23

  Note to Readers * About the Author * Acknowledgments * Discussion Questions * Excerpt from Goodbye Orchid

  DEDICATION

  To the best mother-in-law…who brightens the world with her art, and lights up our lives with love

  Empathy is

  seeing with the eyes of another,

  listening with the ears of another,

  and feeling with the heart of another.

  ― Alfred Adler

  CHAPTER 1

  WILD ORCHIDS

  Orchid

  SPRING, NEW YORK CITY

  Fifteen years ago, Orchid Paige could’ve never imagined a world without her mother.

  Today, April rain swept away the thought, blurring her view of Manhattan skyscrapers outside the conference room windows.

  She straightened in her seat, surrounded by her Estee Lauder co-workers. Her cobalt-highlighted hair shone in the window’s reflection. If the black strands of her Asian heritage could transform, what else could change?

  Her boss, Joan, commanded the front of the room. She wore a structured suit and heavy earrings. Her mouth barely creased as she shared company news. “International experience is essential for the next level up. Here’s a rare opportunity…”

  The atmosphere became electrified.

  Princeton, an Ivy League-educated coworker, leaned closer. His nostrils widened, like a racehorse chomping at the starting gate. He was named after the university that his parents believed he was destined to attend.

  “Lauder China wants someone for six-weeks in Beijing. It’ll be a high visibility assignment,” Joan said.

  Orchid’s pulse quickened. Her imagination tipped halfway around the world, to a place where terra cotta soldiers guarded a long-dead emperor, where the age of dynasties was measured in millennia, and the scale of The Great Wall made it visible from the skies. Visible from my mother’s vantage point in heaven, she thought, as an image danced in her imagination.

  Beautiful, dark-haired Mom was the artist in the family, the woman who amused young Orchid with drawings of dogs in tutus, and cat soirees. When she was little, Orchid thought her Chinese half was connected to her creative side. Her analytical brain was from her dad’s side, his long English ancestry stamped with stories of tradesmen and entrepreneurs.

  Memories of her mother were faded. She pictured her, still young, unmarred by the accident that took her life, gliding carefree through the grounds of an Oriental palace. “You should visit China someday,” her mom had said.

  She realized that Joan was still speaking.

  “If you’re interested, let me know by–”

  “Song wo,” Princeton trilled in Mandarin. Send him? His grin telegraphed his assumption that privileged schooling and language skills would assure him the coveted assignment.

  Chinese warriors from her mother’s ancestry beckoned…your opportunity! Not his!

  She stifled an urge to nudge Princeton, to cuff him the way he’d snubbed her non-Ivy schooling. With his proud pedigree, his fat nostrils would likely drip blue blood, marring the silk of his pocket handkerchief. “Where did you attend uni?” he’d asked her by way of introduction, then sniffed at the response.

  Princeton’s smugness sparked her competitiveness. She’d earned everything in her life: every scholarship, every opportunity. This would be no different. The challenges from childhood had strengthened her for this battle. She would test her savvy against her colleague’s arrogance. To give herself a chance.

  After the meeting, she closed her notebook and walked out of the room with her boss. “I could add value to the team,” she said. “Can we set up some time to discuss the assignment?”

  Joan tilted her head at Orchid’s blue locks; her expression was unreadable. “I’m free tomorrow. Schedule some time on my calendar.” Her Christian Louboutin heels clicked down the hall.

  Orchid hurried to her desk, opened her computer, and sent an invitation to Joan to meet her in the morning. Then she tapped open a new window to search for information about expatriate assignments. She lost herself in photos. Pictures of smog and crowded highways competed with images of cherry blossoms and temples. She knew that her mother’s nostalgia was for China’s ancient history rather than its present-day complications. Still, she nearly forgot to breathe as she sought her mother’s features in the faces of pedestrians.

  At the end of the workday, she exited her office building. The rain had stopped, leaving the evening air humid. Her phone buzzed with a baby picture from her best friend Mandy. The infant’s halo of hair glowed in the sunshine.

  Orchid was eager to share this China goal with Mandy. As she crossed the street towards her subway station, she decided to call, rather than send a text.

  “Hey, hon,” Mandy greeted her.

  “Miss you, honey. How’s my favorite godson?”

  “There’s a study that shows smarter babies sleep less. So, your godson must be a genius.”

  “Ha. Sleep-deprived parents everywhere will be wishing for less intellect.”

  She paused at the top of the steps leading down to her subway stop. Phone reception was always a problem two flights down.

  “Speaking of intellect, how’s the glamorous life of a beauty executive?”

  “I’m going to burst your bubble. Glamorous and executive aren’t part of my everyday vocabulary. There is news, though.”

  “Tell me! I need something more than eco-friendly diapers to spice up my week.”

  “Sustainable diapers are exciting,” she said. “But let me fill you in in-person. Are you free tonight? To get a drink?”

  “Did you forget that I’m breastfeeding? No alcohol for me, but I’m up for a night out.”

  “Cool, ‘cause I figured out what I want… but chances are not looking good.”

  “I’m dying to know. Text me a time and place.”

  “Will do. Can’t wait!”

&nbs
p; That evening, Orchid hurried along the avenue. With few commuters, she made good time to the Pyramid nightclub. Sitting at the curb was an idling cab, its windows reflecting her slender figure in a post-punk black minidress with silver-toothed zippers.

  She paid the bouncer and pushed through the doors into the black-painted dance club. Ever since the childhood trauma of witnessing her parents’ accident, she needed to calm her nerves in busy places. It was a quiet night in this dive. She stilled her trembling hands, and checked for the exit, her escape route. This was an automatic response she had adopted as a teen.

  One red sign shone at the hallway leading to the bathrooms. EXIT. Good.

  Orchid spotted Mandy, who had secured a spot at the edge of the room and loped across the sticky floor to join her. Mandy wasn’t only her best friend; she was her confidante.

  “Sorry, I got lost in research,” Orchid apologized, and hugged her friend.

  Mandy raised her voice over the percussion notes. “As long as you made it. Now spill the beans. Your call has me on the edge of my seat!”

  Even though Orchid’s ebony-lined eyes and edgy attire telegraphed an effortless cool, she knew that Mandy could see through that.

  “You told me you figured out something. Tell!”

  “Chances are, like, nil that I’ll get it,” Orchid said.

  Mandy pushed a ruby-shaded cocktail towards her. Orchid clinked her tumbler against her friend’s glass of Perrier. “Thank you,” she said, and sipped the cool drink.

  Mandy straightened on her bar stool, ready to dig into what Orchid recognized as her favorite problem-solving mode. “Let’s see. What do you want more than anything? I know. Tickets to Fashion Week. Or that thrifted Dolce & Gabbana peony-print dress.”

  “Better peonies than orchids.” Orchid said. It wasn’t just her pet peeve over orchid everything; it was the memory of her mother’s dress, the one decorated with peonies. “Good guess, but no.”

  “Girls’ night with your bestie?” Mandy stirred her sparkling water with a paper straw.

  Nothing like Mandy’s optimism to buoy spirits. “Love you. Okay, second best.”

  “A tattooed god who eats calculus for breakfast and gets into every club in the city?” Mandy gave her an impish grin, swinging her blonde bob.

  “That sounds awesome, except you know I can’t trust anyone. Dating’s not in my future.”

  “Aww c’mon,” said Mandy. “I need to live vicariously through my single friends.” She tilted her head towards the end of the bar.

  She glanced in the direction of Mandy’s gaze. She saw a burly fellow with snake tattoos that ran along his thick neck. He seemed to be glowering at the ground. Counter-culture level: a near-perfect six. Not high enough to trigger cultish fears, and not low enough to scream wannabe.

  The two friends became immersed in their conversation. The increased hum in the place made it harder to hear each other speak.

  Hang on. Next to tatt-guy, a young David Beckham lookalike curved long fingers around a bottle of beer. Eyes thick with lashes met her gaze, and her chest thumped with something akin to recognition. Impossible. They’d never met. Yet his eyebrows lifted, as if she had sparked something in him, too.

  Orchid tossed the split-second connection into her brain’s dustbin, along with today’s forgotten dry cleaning.

  She downed her drink and refocused on Mandy. “Get your mind off guys. What I want more than anything has to do with work.”

  “Work?”

  “My boss said we need international experience for any shot at a promotion. And, oh, by the way, they’re recruiting a Lauder marketer for an assignment to China.”

  “China? You know you can’t leave me!”

  “It’s a temporary assignment, six weeks. And there’s no way they’re going to pick me.”

  “Who better than you?”

  “Someone with more experience. The Princeton pedigree in my office, for one. He started speaking Mandarin during the meeting, for crying out loud.”

  Mandy nearly spit the mouthful she’d just taken. “Mandarin? But you can too, right?”

  “I have the vocabulary of a two-year old.” She inhaled, the truth spilling out. “The weird thing is, with this Princeton wretch vying for the spot, it makes me want it even more. If I get this, leave baby Matty with hubby and come with me!”

  Mandy faced her phone screen towards Orchid. “I cannot leave this munchkin.”

  Cherub cheeks, ruddy with sleep, topped with a bunny-soft tuft of blond hair.

  “Aww, he’s the cutest.”

  Without prompting, Mandy swiped and paused on another photo of her son, his fists pumping in excitement over a spoon headed for his round mouth. “His favorite is barley.”

  “Neigh,” Orchid whinnied.

  Mandy snorted. “Back to you. Do you have family there?”

  “None that I know of. But this is a fast track to promotion.” Thinking in terms of her future with the company made more sense than talking about the growing urge she had to visit her mother’s home country. She figured that her features were mirrored somewhere in the faces of those billion people. Just like her mom’s.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Mandy asked, getting the bartender’s attention and pointing to her glass.

  “I’ve set up time with my boss, and I’m going to let her know I’ll do anything. Study, learn the language, whatever it takes.”

  Mandy gave her a broad smile. “You go, girl! There’s research about guys going for an opportunity even if they have only half the qualifications, but women feel they need a hundred percent to even apply.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m going for it. It’s perfect for me. It’s the only way to a promotion, and I can’t stand the thought of Princeton winning.”

  “I’d pick you,” said Mandy.

  Orchid gave Mandy’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re the sweetest. I’d pick you too. Now, I need the bathroom.” She slid off the seat and straightened her minidress. In Hell’s Kitchen, rocking an attitude was essential.

  David Beckham was gone. Snake-tatt guy was still slumped on the bar stool. His slouch emanated an angst that Orchid could relate to.

  The DJ seated on the far side of the bar transitioned to a driving bass line that urged Orchid towards the dance floor. The restrooms were situated down a corridor, somewhere on the other side of the writhing bodies.

  The tacky floor tugged at the soles of her platform boots as she bopped along to the beat. A hiss accompanied a familiar scent. Faux smoke shrouded the space. Like she needed additional obstacles to finding the loo. That is, besides her buzz.

  Orchid’s bladder moved her toward the hallway and then the bathroom. The little symbol with the arrow was the women’s room, right? How quaint that this throwback place didn’t have gender neutral washrooms.

  The handle turned easily, so she pushed through the door, flimsy like the card house of her life.

  “Aiya!” came a deep voice. A tall figure jumped back from the sink. The door barely missed his athletic form. Orchid almost tumbled into him.

  “What are you doing in here?” she cried out.

  His azure eyes reflected kindness, and his full lips widening in a field of stubble caused her breath to hitch. The David Beckham doppelganger! His baritone rumbled with good humor. “I don’t know about you...but I’M in the men’s room.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. Oops. Before she walked out, she commented on his Chinese expression. “I speak English, you know, even if I look Chinese.”

  His eyes widened. Did cobalt blaze that bright? “Of course, you do. It’s not you. Aiya just spills out. I keep forgetting. I’m just back from Beijing.”

  “Beijing!” she exclaimed. “That’s where I want to go. How was it?” The connection of a faraway land made this stranger feel familiar.

  Long fingers swung the spigot closed, then swiped a paper towel. He dried between each digit. “Hai keyi.”

  She couldn’t help herself, air expelled at his use of the phrase that roughly translated to pretty good. “You sound like a native,” she said.

  “Hardly. Do you speak Mandarin?”

  Her vision adjusted to the brightness. Light surfed his wavy hair. His blue eyes crinkled. “Bu hui.” She shook her head no.