A New Foundation by Rochelle Alers (philippa perry book txt) 📕

curb, he turned on his heel and walked the three blocks to where he’d parked his SUV.

What he did not want to admit to himself was that he’d spent a most pleasurable couple of hours with a woman who had unknowingly bewitched him with her beauty, poise and intelligence, and he looked forward to spending countless more hours with her if and when she signed on to the restoration project.

Chapter Three

Sonja walked into the kitchen in her aunt and uncle’s apartment to brew a cup of coffee and was surprised to find both sitting at the table. They usually attended early-morning church service followed by brunch at one of their favorite neighborhood restaurants before returning home to watch either a sporting event or movie. In a month, her uncle would join a group of retired police and firefighters for Sunday afternoon baseball games in Central Park.

The table was littered with travel brochures, and her aunt was busy scrolling through travel sites on her laptop. Her uncle was a recent NYPD retired sergeant, while her aunt had retired the year before as an underwriter for a major insurance company.

“Have you guys finally decided where you want to go to celebrate your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary?” she asked as she removed a coffee pod from the carousel and popped it into the single-serve coffeemaker.

Her mother’s brother shifted slightly on his chair, peering at her over a pair of reading glasses. “I still want to go to Alaska, while your titi keeps going on about Hawaii.”

Opening the refrigerator, Sonja took out a container of creamer. “Why don’t you compromise? You’re going to be on the West Coast. You can spend a couple of weeks in Hawaii, and once you return to the mainland you can take a cruise up to Alaska. That way it’s a win-win for you both.”

Nelson Rios blew his niece an air kiss, then reached for his wife’s hand. “What do you say, Mama? First Hawaii and then Alaska?”

Yolanda glared at Nelson. “Now, why didn’t we think of that?”

Sonja winked at her aunt. She’d just turned sixty yet appeared at least ten years younger. There was just a sprinkling of gray in the neatly braided twists styled in a ponytail, while her nut-brown face was wrinkle-free which she attributed to good genes.

Sonja always felt Yolanda Clark was the perfect partner for her uncle after he lost his first wife during a hit-and-run, leaving him a grief-stricken widower and single father of an eight-year-old son. Nelson and Yolanda had dated off and on for more than a year before he’d asked her to move in with him. She refused, reminding him it would send the wrong signal to his son. Nelson had confessed to Sonja that marrying Yolanda was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

She’d filled the void and had become a wonderful mother for Jaime.

Her mother and uncle were born with red hair, a recessive hair color they’d inherited from their great-grandmother. Maria and Nelson were referred to respectively as Red and Rusty by neighborhood kids, and the nickname had followed Nelson through adulthood. Many of his colleagues on the police force still called him Rusty although the red strands had faded to a shimmering silver.

It was Yolanda who had urged Sonja to move into their spare bedroom six years ago after Jaime married his high school sweetheart. Her offer had come at the right time: she’d left her husband, enrolled at the Pratt Institute to concentrate on completing her degree, while commuting between New York and Boston to file and eventually finalize her divorce. Although she’d volunteered a few times to pay them rent for living in the apartment with panoramic views of the Hudson River and the New Jersey Palisades, her aunt and uncle rejected her offer with the recommendation she save her money to eventually purchase a house or condo.

Their suggestion had made her aware that she’d gone from living with her parents to sharing a dorm room with another college student and then with the man who would become her husband. After she left Hugh, Sonja had moved into her parents’ retirement home, wallowing in a morass of self-pity until she shook off her lethargy with the intent of completing her education. She’d applied and was accepted into the Pratt Institute with the promise she would live in Manhattan with her aunt and uncle until she graduated and secured employment.

She’d earned her degree and been hired to work in the Madison Avenue art gallery, yet still did not live alone. Sonja told Viola that she envied her because she’d grown up with four brothers, but what she didn’t say to her friend that she was jealous of her independence. Viola had left her parents’ home to attend culinary school, and rather than return to New Jersey she’d rented an apartment in the West Village. Viola’s tenure had been short-lived when working for a few hotels, and then she found her niche at The Cellar. Sonja’s best friend, six years her junior, had unknowingly become her role model for what it meant to be an independent woman.

She cradled the mug with both hands. The weekend was her time to sleep in. It was only on a rare occasion she got out of bed before noon. And when she did it was to brush her teeth and take a leisurely bath. Sweats were her favored attire, and after preparing something to eat or heating up leftovers, Sonja left the apartment to visit the local nail salon for her weekly mani-pedi. She always called the owner midweek to set up the appointment in order not to sit and wait for her favorite technician.

“I have to meet someone for a possible commission.”

Yolanda powered down the laptop. “What kind of commission?”

“Cataloguing the contents of a New Jersey mansion.”

“Where in New Jersey?” Nelson questioned.

“Somewhere in the northern part of the state. I’ll let you know where once I get back.”

“Are you going to accept it?” Yolanda asked.

“I don’t know.”

And Sonja