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From This Day	By : FanGirl13 Category: Casts RPF > Nobuta wo Produce Views: 948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter One
- 2-Chapter Two
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- 2
Spring comes late to Vermont. Snow lingers in isolated patches. Trees begin their greening hesitantly, tiny closed buds of leaves against naked branches. Early blooms of color burst from the earth’s womb. The air is fresh with promise.

Maki tossed open her window with a flourish and welcomed the early breeze into her room. Saturday, she thought with a grin, and began to brush her shoulder-length, black colored hair. The Lakeside Inn was half-full, the summer season three weeks away, and if all followed her well-ordered plans, her duties as manager would be light for the duration of the weekend.

Her staff was loyal, though somewhat temperamental. Like a large family, they squabbled, sulked, teased, and stuck together like glue when the need arose. And I, she thought with a rueful grin, am head counselor.

Pulling on faded jeans, Maki didn’t pause to consider the incongruity of the title. A small, childlike woman reflected in her glass, curves disguised by casual attire, black shoulder length hair framing a heart shaped face with chocolate brown eyes dominant. Her only large feature, they swamped the tip-tilted nose and cupid’s bow mouth and were prone to smolder or sparkle with the changes of her mood. After lacing rundown sneakers, she jogged from the room, intending to check on breakfast preparations before stealing an hour for a solitary walk.

The main staircase of the inn was wide and uncarpeted, connecting its four sprawling stories, as straight and sturdy as the building itself. She saw with satisfaction the lobby was both tidy and deserted. The curtains were drawn to welcome the sun, needlepoint pillows plumped and a vase of fresh wildflowers adorned the high, well-polished registration desk. The clatter of cutlery carried from the dining room as she passed through the downstairs hall, and she heard, with a long suffering sigh, the running argument between her two waitresses.

“If you really like a man with small, pig eyes, you should be very happy,”

Maki watched Erika shrug her thin shoulders with the words as she rolled a place setting in white linen.

“Keiichiro does not have pig eyes,” Yui insisted. “They’re very intelligent. You’re just jealous,” she added with grim relish as she filled the sugar dispensers.

“Jealous? Ha! The day I’m jealous of a squinty-eyed little runt…Oh, hello, Maki.”

“Good morning, Erika, Yui. You rolled two spoons and a knife at that setting, Erika. I think a fork might be a nice touch.”

Accompanied by her companion’s snickers, Erika unrolled the linen. “Keii’s taking me to a double feature at the drive-in tonight.” Yui’s smug statement followed Maki into the kitchen, and she allowed the door to swing shut on the ensuing retort.

Unlike the casual, old fashioned atmosphere of the remainder of the inn, the kitchen sparkled with twentieth century efficiency. Stainless steel glimmered everywhere in the oversized room, the huge stove attesting that the inn’s main attraction was its menu. Cupboards, and cabinets stood like veteran soldiers, walls and linoleum gleaming with fresh cleaning. Maki smiled, pleased with the room’s perfection and the scent of coffee.

“Morning, Keiko.” She received an absent mutter from the round woman working at a long, well-scrubbed counter. “If everything’s under control, I’m going out for a couple of hours.”

“Shirakawa Yumi won’t send any blackberry jelly.”

“What? Well, for goodness sake why not?” Annoyed by the complication, Maki plucked a fresh muffin from a basket and began to devour it. “Mr. Conners always asks for her jelly, and we’re down to the last jar.”

“She said if you couldn’t be bothered to pay a lonely old woman a visit, she couldn’t be bothered to part with any jelly.”

“Lonely old woman?” Maki’s exclamation was muffled by a mouthful of muffin. “She runs more news items through that house of hers than CNN. Blast it, Keiko, I really need that jelly. I was too busy last week to go listen to the latest special bulletins.”

“The new owner coming Monday got you worried?”

“Who’s worried? I’m not worried.” Scowling, she grabbed another muffin. “It’s simply that as manager of the inn, I want everything to be in order.”

“Junno said you were muttering and slamming around your office after you got the letter saying he was coming.”

“I was not…muttering…” Moving to the refrigerator, Maki poured a glass of juice and spoke to Keiko’s wide back. “Yamashita Tomohisa has a perfect right to inspect his property. It’s just, blast it, Keiko, it was all those vague comments about modernizing. Mr. Yamashita better keep his hands off the Lakeside Inn and play with his other hotels. We don’t need to be modernized,” she continued rapidly working herself up into a temper. “We’re perfectly fine just the way we are. There’s not a thing wrong with us, we don’t need anything.” She finished by folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the absent new owner.

“Except blackberry jelly,” Keiko said mildly. Maki blinked and brought herself back to the present.

“Oh, all right,” she muttered and stalked toward the door. “I’ll go get it. But if she tells me one more time that Wakaba Ryuuya is a fine boy and good husband material, I’ll scream. Right there in her living room with the doilies and chintz, I’ll scream!”

Leaving this dire threat hanging in the air, Maki stepped out into the soothing yellow sunlight.

“Blackberry jelly,” she mumbled as she hopped on a battered red bike. “New owners with fancy notions…” Lifting her face to the sky, she swept her hair up into a loose bun.

Pedaling down the maple lined drive, temper ebbed, her resilient spirits were lifted with the beauty of the day. The valley was stirring with life. Small clusters of fragile violets and the rolling meadows lining the street. Linens of fresh laundry waved in the early breeze. The boundary of mountains was topped by a winter’s coat, not yet the soft, lush green it would be in a month’s time, but patched with stark black trees and the color of pines. Clouds scattered across the sky, with a light breeze bringing the smell of fresh blossoms.

Good humor restored, Maki arrived in town with pink cheeks and a smile, waving to familiar faces along the route to Shirakawa Yumi’s jelly. It was a small town with tidy lawns, picket fences and old, well-kept homes. The brilliant shimmer of Lake Champlain to the west, Lakeside remained serene and untouched by big city bustle. Having been raised on its outskirts had not dulled the feeling of serenity and simplicity it gave Maki.

Parking her bike in front of a small, green shuttered house, Maki swung through the gate and prepared to negotiate for her jelly supply.

“Well, Maki, what a surprise. I thought you’d gone back to New York.” Yumi opened the door and petted her newly permed hair.

“Things have been a bit hectic at the inn,” she returned, striving for the proper humbleness.

“The new owner.” Yumi nodded with a fortune teller’s wisdom and gestured Maki inside. “I hear he wants to spruce things up.”

Resigned that Shirakawa Yumi’s communications system was foolproof, Maki settled herself, mentally preparing herself for the conversation ahead, and planning on how to segue from the current conversation to her Blackberry Jelly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, Maki placed a box of a dozen jars of jelly in the basket of her bike and waved a cheery goodbye.

“I came, I saw, I conquered, and I did not scream,” she told the sky with pride once she got a good distance away.

“Hey, Maki,” came a voice to her left. When she saw who it was she waved and pedaled to the group playing sandlot baseball.

“What’s the score?” she asked as she propped her bike against the fence and walked over.

“Five to four,” answered a young boy she recognized. “Junior’s team is winning.”

She glanced to where Junior stood, tossing a ball in his hands, on the pitcher’s mound, grinning.

“Little squirt,” she murmured with reluctant affection. “Let me pinch hit once.” Confiscating the boy’s battered cap, she secured it on over her upswept hair and walked up to home plate.
“You gonna play, Maki?”

Picking up a bat she gave a few practice swings before replying. “Only for a minute, I have to get back.”

Junior approached, hands on hips, and grinned down from his advantage of three inches. “Wanna bet I strike you out?”

She spared him a brief glance and propped the bat onto her shoulder. “I don’t want to take your money.”

“If I strike you out, you gotta kiss me.” He said with overconfidence in his voice.

“Get on the mound, you apprentice lecher, and come back in ten years.”

His grin remained unashamed as he sauntered to his position on the pitcher’s mound. He squinted, nodded, wound up and pitched. Maki swung a full circle.

“Strike one” came the voice of Ikuta Toma, who stood as umpire. Getting into position again, the cheers and taunts grew in volume. She stuck her tongue out at Junior’s wink.

“Strike two” Toma announced as she watched the ball sail by.

“Strike?” Turning, she placed her hands on her hips. “You’re crazy, that was chin high. I’m going to tell your mother your need glasses.”

“Strike two,” he repeated with adolescent ferocity.

Muttering under her breath about an eye exam, Maki stepped into the batter’s box.

“You might as well put the bat down,” Junior exclaimed, cradling the ball in the mitt. “You’re not even coming close to this one.”

“Take a good look at the ball, Junior, because it’s the last time you’ll see it.” Shifting the hat lower, Maki clutched the bat. “It’s going clear to New York.”

She connected with a solid crack of bat and watched the ball begin its sail before she darted around the bases. Running full steam, head down, she heard the shouts and cheers to slide as she rounded third. Scott Temple, the catcher, crouched over the plate, mitt opened for reception. She slid into home accompanied by a cloud of dust and hysterical shouts.

“You’re out!”

“Out?” Scrambling to her feet, she met Toma’s stare head on. Standing eye to eye with Toma she argued, “you little squirt, I was safe by a mile. Instead of glasses your mom should get you a pair of binoculars”.

“Out,” he repeated with great dignity, and folded his arms.
“What we need here is an umpire with two working eyes.” She turned to the crowd of onlookers and threw out her arms. “I demand a second opinion.”

“You were out.”

Spinning at the unfamiliar voice, Maki frowned up at the stranger. He stood leaning on the fence, a small lift to his dark brown eyes. He pushed a strand of black hair from his brow and straightened his lean frame.

“You should have been content with a triple.”

“I was safe,” she retorted, rubbing more dirt on her nose. “Absolutely safe.”

“Out,” Toma stubbornly repeated from behind her.

Maki sent him a scornful glance before turning back to the man approaching the animated debate between teams. She studied him with a mixture of curiosity and resentment.
His features were well defined with tanned skin and smooth, short, black hair. She saw that he wore a tanned, casual, suit that was obviously expensive. His teasing smirk grew at her survey of his body, and her resentment deepened.

“I’ve got to get back,” she announced, turning back to the group gathered around the plate. “Don’t think I’m not going to mention an eye exam to your mother,” she added. Giving Toma a final glare, she walked to the fence and mounted her bike.

“Hey, kid.” She straddled her bike and looked around idly. Then she smiled as she realized the man had grouped her with the rest of the teens. Restraining the laughter, that threatened to burst, she looked up with an innocent expression.

“Yeah?”

“How far is it to the Lakeside Inn?” he questioned, not noticing the humor in her gaze.

“Look, mister, my mother told me not to talk to strange men,” she responded.

“Very commendable, however I’m not offering you candy and a ride,” the annoyance evident in his voice. “I am merely asking for directions.”

“Wellll,” she frowned as if debating what to do. “Ok. It’s ‘bout three miles up the road. You can’t miss it.” Her words were accompanied with vague hand gestures, that provided no help at all.

He gave her a long stare, as if he thought she belonged in an asylum, then shook his head. “Thanks, that’s a big help,” sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Any time.” She watched him walk toward a silver Mercedes. Unable to restrain herself she called after him, “I was absolutely safe.”

Tossing the borrowed hat back to the owner, Maki cut across the meadow towards the inn.

The four stories of red brick loomed ahead of her. Pedaling up the wide drive she noticed that her short cut brought her ahead of the Mercedes.

I wonder if he’s looking for a room, she thought as she parked her bike. She hauled out her box of jellies and climbed the stairs to the front deck. Well if he wants a room we’ll oblige, she thought as she entered the inn.

“Good morning.” Maki smiled at the newlyweds who strolled across the lobby towards the door.

“Oh, good morning, Miss Horikita. We’re going for a walk by the lake,” the groom answered politely.

“It’s a lovely day for it,” Maki acknowledged, finishing her walk across the lobby towards the main desk. Setting down the crate of jellies, she noticed a letter from her grandmother. Picking up the letter, she sat on the chair behind the desk and began to read with pleasure.

“Get around, don’t you?”

Her concentration rudely broken, she set down the letter, looked up into dark brown eyes. “I took a short cut.” Unwilling to be outmatched by his height or perfect attire, she straightened and lifted her chin. “May I help you?” she asked with the most professional tone she could muster.

“I doubt it, unless you can tell me where to find the manager.” He responded with a dismissive tone.

His tone only fueled her annoyance. She struggled to remember her job and keep a pleasant expression. “Is there some problem? There’s a room available if you require one.”

“Be a good girl and run along.” His tone was patronizing. “Fetch the manager for me while you are at it.”

Drawing herself to her full height she crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re looking at her.”

His eyebrows rose in speculation as he examined her incredulously. “Do you manage the inn before school and on Saturdays?” he asked sarcastically.

Maki flushed with anger. “I have been managing the Lakeside Inn for nearly four years. If there is a problem, I shall be delighted to take it up with you here, or in my office. If you require a room,” she gestured toward the open register, “we’ll be more than happy to assist you.”

“Horikita Maki?” he asked with a deepening frown.

“That’s correct.”

With a nod, he lifted a pen and signed the register. “I’m sure you’ll understand,” he began, raising his eyes again in fresh study. “Your morning activity on the baseball field and your appearance are deceptive.”

“I had the morning free,” she said crisply, “and my appearance in no way reflects the quality of the Lakeside Inn. I’m sure you’ll see for yourself during your stay, Mr…” Turning the register to face her, Maki’s stomach lurched.

“Yamashita,” he supplied, smiling at her astonished expression. “Yamashita Tomohisa.”

Struggling for composure, Maki lifted her face and assumed a business-like manor. “I’m afraid we weren’t expecting you until Monday, Mr. Yamashita.”

“I changed my plans,” he replied, casually placing the pen back into its holder.

“Yes, well…Welcome to Lakeside Inn,” she said belatedly and adjusted the register to its original position.

“Thank you. I’ll require an office during my stay, if possible.”

“Our office space is limited, Mr. Reynolds.” Cursing Yumi’s blackberry jelly, she pulled the key to the inn’s best room and rounded the desk. “However, if you don’t mind sharing, I’m sure you’ll find it adequate.”

“Let’s take a look. I want to see the books and records anyway.”

“Of course,” she agreed, gritting her teeth at this man’s hold over her inn. “If you’ll just come with me.”

“Maki, Maki, Maki.” She watched, giving an inward shutter, as Junno hurtled down the stairs and into the lobby. His glasses were slipping down his nose, his black hair was flopping around his ears.

“Maki,” he said again, breathless, “Mrs. Matsuto’s TV went out in the middle of her cartoons.”

“Oh, blast. Take mine to her and call Taka for the repair.”

“He’s away for the weekend,” Junno reminded her.

“All right, I’ll survive.” Giving his shoulder an encouraging pat, she guided him to the door. “Leave me a memo to call him Monday and get mine into her before she misses Bugs Bunny.” Feeling the new owner’s penetrating stare in the back of her head, Maki explained apologetically. “I’m sorry, Junno has a tendency towards the dramatic, and Mrs. Matsuto is addicted to Saturday morning cartoons. She is one of our regulars, and we make it our policy to provide our guests with what pleases them.”

“I see,” he replied, but she couldn’t find anything in his expression to indicate that he did.

Moving quickly to the back of the first floor, Maki opened the door to her office and gestured Taylor inside. “It’s not very big,” she began as he surveyed the small room with a desk, file cabinets, and a bulletin board, “but I’m sure we can arrange it to suit your needs for the few days you will be here.”

“Two weeks,” he stated firmly. He strolled across the room, picking up a silver turtle paperweight.

“Two weeks?” she repeated, and the alarm in her voice caused him to turn toward her.

“That’s right, Miss Horikita. Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not.” Finding his direct stare slightly unnerving, she lowered her eyes to the clutter on the desk.

“Do you play ball every Saturday, Miss Horikita?” He perched on the edge of the desk. Looking up Maki found his face to be only inches from her own.

“No, certainly not,” she answered with all the dignity she could muster. “I simply happened to be passing by, and—“

“A very courageous slide,” he commented, shocking her by running a finger down her cheek. “And your face proves it.”

Somewhat dazed, she glanced at the dust on his finger. “I was safe,” she said in defense against a speeding pulse. “Toma needs an optometrist.”

“I wonder if you manage the inn with the same tenacity with which you play ball.” He smiled, his eyes intent on hers. “We’ll have a look at the books this afternoon.”

“I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” she said stiffly. The effect was somewhat spoiled as she backed into the file cabinet. “The inn runs very smoothly, and as you know, makes a nice profit.” She continued struggling to maintain her dignity.

“With a few changes, it should make a great deal more.”

“Changes?” she echoed, apprehension in her voice. “What kind of changes?”

“I need to look over the place before I make any concrete decisions, but the location is perfect for a resort.” Absently, he grabbed a tissue from the desk too wipe the dust off his fingers.

Without thinking Maki grabbed the tissue from his hands. “You know it is impolite to take something without asking,” she berated him. Realizing what she had said she was about to apologize but was interrupted.

“Pool, tennis courts, health club, a general face lift for the building itself.” He continued as if he had not noticed that she had spoken.

“There’s nothing wrong with this building. We don’t cater to the resort set, Mr. Yamashita.” Furious, Maki approached the desk again. “This is an inn, with all that includes. Family-style meals, comfortable lodgings and a quiet atmosphere. That’s why our guests come back.”

“The clientele would increase with a few modern attractions,” he countered coolly. “Particularly with the proximity to Lake Champlain.”

“Keep your hot tubs and disco lounges for your other hotels .” Maki’s temper bypassed simmer and went straight to boil. “This is Lakeside, Vermont, not L.A. I don’t want any plastic surgery on my inn.”

Brows rose and his mouth curved into a grim smile. “Your inn, Miss Horikita?”

“That’s right,” she retorted, “you may hold the purse strings, Mr. Yamashita, but I know this place, and our guests come back year after year because of what we represent. There’s no way you’re going to change one brick.”

“Miss Horikita.” Tomohisa stood menacingly over her. “If I choose to tear down this inn brick by brick, that is precisely what I’ll do. Whatever alterations I make or don’t make, remain my decision, and mine alone. Your position as manager does not entitle you to a vote.”

“And your position as owner doesn’t entitle you to brains!” she was unable to choke back as she stomped from the office and slamming the door in fury.
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