Disclaimer: Twilight and Somewhere in Time are not mine.

A/N: Hello again! Thanks for the reviews!! I really appreciate it. I felt kind of bad for those of you who have been waiting for CBTM to start and all I gave you was a tiny little prologue… so, I'm posting CH1 way ahead of schedule. LOL See what your reviews do to me?

Enjoy!!

Chapter 1: The Grand

EPOV

I sit and stare blankly at the smooth keys, my hands hovering and fingers poised to play. The music is there. I can almost hear it. My fingertips are itching to play but nothing comes. The blank sheets of music sitting on my piano mock me and my pencil lays untouched. Dammit! I stand up from my piano abruptly and stride across the room. I'm feeling very agitated right now and even work isn't helping. I can't seem to get past this block.

I lean against the mantle and pick up the photo closest to me. Emmett and I, arms slung over each other's shoulders, toasting with champagne flutes lifted high. It was taken at Em's apartment that night after my first concert. It was the turning point in both our careers. I definitely couldn't have done any of this with out Emmett. He has been the driving force behind my success. It's been eight years since that night and I am in high demand. My music is more than moderately popular and I couldn't be happier with my professional life. On top of releasing a well received CD of my piano compositions, I've collaborated on the score for several movies, won awards and I have the respect of my peers. It doesn't mean as much as it used to. I have no one to share my success with.

I return the photo to its place on the mantle and my eyes drift to the next frame. It's of Emmett and I again, arms slung over each other's shoulders, toasting with champagne flutes lifted high. Only this time there is a beautiful blond in a wedding gown tucked under Em's tuxedo clad arm, clinging to his side with her arms wrapped possessively around his waist. Even Emmett has found someone. Seeing Emmett and Rosalie together only intensifies the emptiness I feel. I am happy for my friend but I envy him.

So. Much.

I see the way Rose looks at him, like she's this puzzle that's finally found its missing piece and, amazingly, he looks at her the same way. It saddens me that the closest I've ever felt to seeing that kind of intensity directed towards me is the night I received the pocket watch. To see Rosalie and Emmett looking at one another, sharing such a moment, reminds me of how truly alone I am in this world. My loneliness reminds me of the elderly woman. Her words haunt me. And so, I take the small gold watch from my pocket and place it atop my piano and begin to play the sad slow notes I play nearly every night before turning in. I play her song. The lullaby I wrote for the lonely old woman with tears in her eyes. It's a small comfort.

When I wake in the morning, I grab an empty duffel from my closet and start packing. I am determined to get out of this funk I find myself in. I am getting desperate for a break and I could really use some time away from the pressure. I just want some peace and reevaluate my life. I need a vacation.

I palm my cell as I exit the elevator, nodding to the doorman. I take a deep breath and dial Em before I enter the garage. I have a hard time explaining my reasons to Emmett. He's even busier than I am with trying to manage my career and raising a family.

A family.

The envy I feel worsened three years ago with the birth of his girls. They named the twins Emma and Roselyn. I can still hear how he laughed when they brought the girls home and he realized that they now have two Ems and two Roses in the house –that they didn't think that one through too well. My smile hurts. It's so cute it makes me want to die. I am happy for my friend, I have to keep reminding myself. I just find it too hard to be around him anymore outside of work. I tell Emmett that I plan to travel aimlessly. Just me and my Volvo. I will just drift and get some real R and R. I'm already in the Volvo speeding out of the city so it gives him no chance to change my mind. He tells me he hopes I find what I'm looking for. Me, too.

About seven hours out of Chicago, I find myself at The Grand Hotel in Michigan. It looks as good a place as any to start my sabbatical. A very elderly bellhop helped me to my room. I actually had to politely argue with him to carry my own bag. Later, as I waited for the dining room to open, I found myself in the lobby making friends with the old man. He introduced himself as Jasper and told me that he has been working at the hotel for going on eighty years now. He started out at the age of six helping his mother in the kitchens while his father worked the desk. Jasper said that he never felt the need to leave. The hotel even dropped a pretty little wife in his lap as a young man so he stays, giving back to the place that has been so good to him his whole life. I can't help but be calmed by the man's words. I just seem to feel at home here, at peace. It's hard not to fall in love with the place instantly.

Two days into my stay, I come upon a museum of sorts on the main floor of the hotel while waiting for the dining hall to open for lunch. The plaque outside the room states it to be The Hall of History. There are antiques in display cases and framed newspaper clippings and brochures, photos of the way the rooms used to be and portraits displayed on each wall. It appears to be a look into the hotels past. Jasper sees me and joins me in the little room pointing out a few things of interest. He seems to have been here for most of it. There is even a photo of him as a much younger man working the desk and checking in a famous movie star. I comment on the beautiful actress, how she looks like she is just stepping off the red carpet instead of checking into a hotel. He informs me that he didn't really take much notice at the time being that he was an extremely happily married man at that point. I see the content smile on his face. The envy is back. I turn away from him …and see a face that takes my breath away.

Jasper sees me take interest in the portrait. He identifies her as the stage actress Isabella Swan who once starred in a play held at the hotel theater. She was talented and quite famous. Her last performance was held at the hotel and he was lucky enough to see it. He said he was always thankful for Miss Swan coming to The Grand. His late wife, Alice, worked for Miss Swan as her maid. When Miss Swan suddenly retired, Alice took work at the hotel which allowed Jasper to woo her.

I'm having a hard time listening to Jasper. I find myself completely enamored with the shining eyes in the portrait. Her hair looks so soft piled in relaxed curls on top of her head. Her smile seems shy yet so genuine. It's hard to tell since it's not a color photograph but she almost appears to be blushing. She seems to just radiate love.

That's it.

The look.

The one I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for. And it is trapped in a photograph taken almost 70 years ago.

A/N: Please remember to R&R and tell me what you think!