Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Granny chuckles and even I can’t help but smile. She’s being so nice. Plus she’s married to someone who isn’t Vincent. My jealousy fades.
“So you’re just going to buy these houses behind the carpark?” I ask Vincent.
“Well, not all of them,” Vincent replies. “Eleven of them. To house the people in the eleven staff houses.”
Is it really that easy for him to buy eleven houses? “Do you have that kind of cash hanging around?”
He lets out a half-chuckle. “It’s an investment. You’re going to be paying me rent.”
“Is it a good investment?” I ask. “Are you going to be making a lot of money from us?”
“Not according to my finance director.”
“So, why are you doing it?”
“Because I don’t go around making people homeless. I’m not that guy.” He looks at me as if it’s just the two of us in the room. I swear if it was, I might be tempted to kiss him.
“Of course you’re not,” Granny says. “Now, what have you got to show us?”
Vincent takes Granny’s arm and leads her to a chair by a desk that’s been set up with various bits of literature.
“What’s your vision for the interior of the house?” I ask Stella. “I’ve seen the video.”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement and she clasps her hands together. “I can’t wait to get started. I do a lot of modern interiors in London, because Beck builds and refurbs a lot of new projects and that’s what people want. But Crompton House will be different. I really want to use Vincent as my muse.” She laughs. “I bet a lot of women have said that before me. But seriously, I want to create the feeling of an English country home. So it should be exactly what an American would imagine an English country home should be—more luxurious than the real thing, but completely classic and in keeping with Georgian architecture. I’m going to really press Vincent to restore the moldings and architraves that are either damaged or rotten. I can use those elements to anchor the rest of the design.”
She pauses and I smile at her. She’s telling me everything I want to hear.
“Have you worked with Vincent before?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, I work with Beck mainly. It’s how we met.” She narrows her eyes. “Sort of. It’s a long story.” Her smile is so wide as she talks about her husband, I glance over at him.
“Do you have children?” I ask.
“Yes, a daughter. She’s three. We’ll get around to number two soon. It’s just a lot—work is so busy. And we have a busy social life. Probably not as busy as Vincent’s.”
A dull ache wraps around my heart and I can’t quite understand why. Is it the mention of children, Vincent, or the busy social life?
“You’re Kate, right?” she asks.
I’m a little taken aback she knows my name. “Yes,” I say.
“Vincent’s trying to impress you,” she says conspiratorially. “He wants people to know he’s not here to destroy anything. He’s going to honor the house because people are invested in it being brought back to its former glory.”
“What makes you think he’s trying to impress me?”
She smiles. “Just the way your name comes up when we’re discussing things.” She pauses. “Are you single?”
“Happily so,” I reply. What does she mean, my name comes up? I want to ask her more but I don’t.
“I guess Vincent’s the same way. I’ve tried to introduce him to a couple of my friends but he doesn’t seem interested.”
I give out an attractive snort-laugh combination. “Really?” Vincent seems like a consummate seducer…or at least he was with me. Wasn’t he? “You think he’s trustworthy?” I ask. “I mean…he’s offered me a job. In the hotel. When it’s done. You think I should work with him?”
Am I really considering his job offer? With the rest of the villagers on Team Vincent, what other choice do I have?
“My husband doesn’t work with people who aren’t trustworthy,” she says. “He’s a good guy. And it’s not like Vincent’s going to stick around and be the hotel manager, is it? Your direct contact will only go so far.”
The dull ache in my heart deepens and I shift my weight from foot to foot. “I guess not.”
“You know the thing he’s not good at?” she says.
My body stiffens, almost in loyalty to him. “What?”
“Detail. It’s very hard to get him to make decisions about the design of things. He just wants me to get on with it, but it’s hard without a little direction. I try and use Michael as a go-between, but he’s so busy. I just hope it doesn’t hold things up.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Vincent is focused on the things he—and the project manager—see as a priority. Right now, that means the planning permission, appointing the main contractor, getting housing sorted out for the staff who live on the estate. I get it, I really do. But I need him to tell me I can commission the rugs for the library and morning room because they’ll take about ten months to fabricate. Same goes for the material for all the drapes across the house and extension. With the quantity we need, lead times are horrendous.”