She smiled up at him. “My mouth’s watering just thinking about that first bite—but I can’t eat now so hurry!”
Two minutes later, Britt was unlocking the cottage closest to the road, which would give it easy access for customers. “This cottage is almost never rented. Guests want to be closer to the gardens or the pool and not the driveway with its tour traffic.”
Spinning around on her heels, Melody’s mind exploded with ideas. She could imagine the little bookstore perfectly. “Without the beds and couches, there would be plenty of room for several sections of titles. At least a couple thousand volumes. And it even has a restroom for customer use.”
“A couple of weekends installing shelving and you’d be in business.”
Melody put a hand to her chest, breathless. “Even the windows already have darling organza yellow curtains, the color of sunlight. Let’s use one of the corners for a reading corner with comfy chairs and a lamp. Oh, gosh, what shall I call it?”
“That’s the easy part. How about Books on the Mississippi?”
Her breath caught when Melody realized how perfect the name was. “We’re only a two-minute walk from the river. I can say that my New Orleans bookstore has only changed locations. We’ll need to advertise though. Put up notices and advertisements in all the little towns along Highway One and Highway Ten going into Baton Rouge. Maybe a newspaper and radio ad. I’ll need to find out what kind of books folks around here like to read. Maybe books about camping and gator-hunting books. Fishing and hunting titles. History of the parish. Setting up a camp on the bayou. And children’s books, of course. I could work with the school district and find out what they need and do their ordering—”
“Slow down!” Britt said. “Your mind is going a hundred miles an hour.”
She gulped in a breath of air, laughing in return and peeking out the windows before whirling around again. “What sort of rent do you want me to pay?”
“We can talk about rent later, okay? Discussing money is really boring.”
Melody placed a hand on her hip, giving him a smug look. “Except when you don’t have any. Or you’re dreaming about what money can buy.”
“Touché. Now let’s go eat, I’m starving. You can start making your lists after dinner.”
They ate a leisurely dinner in the dining room while watching the sun set over the Mississippi through the huge wall of glass. The garden lights twinkled as they came on and an owl hooted overhead, a dark shape flying past the oak trees.
After Melody drained her ice water, she leaned her elbows on the table and sat forward. “I just remembered that you said you had another surprise.”
“You’re right, I did. Want to see it now?”
“Of course!” She jumped up and tugged at his arm. “Dishes can wait.”
“As far as I’m concerned, dishes can wait all night,” Britt said with a wink, leading her upstairs to the main foyer.
They were still holding hands when Britt guided Melody to the Victorian music room from long ago. Butterflies swooped through her stomach at Britt’s touch. How could holding hands be such a swoon-worthy event—but it was and she never wanted to let go.
“Over here,” Britt said, turning on the lamps.
Logs in the fireplace had already been lit to take the chill of the room. “Methinks you already planned this,” Melody mused.
“How’d you guess?”
All at once, Melody let out a gasp, stopping in her tracks. “Oh, oh, oh,” she cried.
In front of the fireplace was a mahogany table, and on top of the table a pink marble slab where the miniature White Castle dollhouse sat in all its glory.
Melody sank to her knees in front of the doll house, reaching out to touch the greek columns and the curving staircase that led to the front porch where tiny rocking chairs sat.
“It’s been sanded and painted!” she said. “And you fixed the broken walls. And redid some of the furniture.”
“I also found some similar wallpaper for the main rooms and took out the old peeling paper and replaced it.”
“It looks perfect. As well as perfectly aligned with the original time period of the house.” Melody touched the antique tables and couches, the beds and armoires and fixtures in the bathrooms. A claw-foot tub and tiny lamps glowed with actual working lights. “You’re a miracle worker, Britt. When did you do all this? We talked about redoing the dollhouse, but I’m in awe that you started and finished already.”
“Oh, the roof still needs some repairs, but I couldn’t resist showing off how it was coming along. And, well, you spent a lot of time in New Orleans over the past month. The hardest part was when I had to go to Savannah for those estate auctions. It really put me behind. I thought today was a great day to show you—after the loss of your beloved bookstore.”
“You are such a secret-keeper! It feels like Christmas in October.”
“I want to give you Christmas every day, Melody,” Britt said softly, lifting her hand to kiss the back of her fingers.
“What a gift,” Melody said. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”
“I have to show you the best part now, but don’t cry.”
“Wha—at?”
Kneeling down, Britt carefully lifted the dollhouse up on one end. Clicking on a flashlight, he handed the torch to Melody. “I found the initials of the person who built the dollhouse. Actually, the initials of two different people.”
“Now I’m even more puzzled.” She tilted her head, shining the flashlight onto the flat wooden bottom of the house. The carved letters were AWdeL, followed by the letters CRB. Melody stared at Britt, her voice choking. “Abel William de Lyon—my grandfather built this dollhouse! But for whom? My father was his son and you don’t give dollhouses to your son.”
“Do you know who CRB is? You’re the one who searched the records of the house.”
“Oh,” Melody said when it all clicked into place. “Those initials must stand for—it’s Mirry’s father—Charles Roosevelt Blanchard! Her father and her husband built this for her!”
“After they were married, is my guess.”
“I wonder if it was a wedding gift,” Melody said, her mind racing, tears springing to her eyes. “A wedding gift of a piece of her childhood home to cherish. What a thoughtful and generous thing you’ve done for her. She is going to love seeing this when she gets out of the hospital.”
“Now I told you not to cry,” Britt teased, putting his arms around her.
“You knew I would,” she said, melting against his chest while she hid her swimming eyes.
“I had a pretty strong suspicion. Now let’s go eat dessert.”
Later, when a glowing full moon rose above the oak trees, Melody pulled open the double glass doors to her balcony and stepped outside into the warm evening.
She’d spent an hour examining every little adorable, perfect knickknack and furnishing in the dollhouse while Britt ate two pieces of cheesecake and gazed at her with his dazzling eyes.
Her heart was so full tonight. The hospital had called and told her that Mirry was turning a corner and could probably be home in a few days.
Britt had already made arrangements for housekeeping to prepare a guest room for her and Melody couldn’t wait to surprise her grandmother with the news that she was moving back into White Castle while her own house was being repaired.
Melody had managed to get a good bid on cleaning and repairing the little house and they were starting work next week. Insurance money had come through just in time, too.
“It’s a beautiful day and a gorgeous night,” she said with a happy sigh. Wrapping her dressing gown over her lace nightgown, Melody relaxed into one of the balcony rocking chairs to gaze at the moon.
All of a sudden, the sound of footsteps came from across the gardens. A tall, male figure strode toward the house, skirting the gurgling fountains and heading into her line of vision.
“Britt, is that you?” She rose to peer over the railing. Her dressing gown slipped ope
n, revealing the nightgown and she grabbed the edges with her fist to keep it closed.
“Hey, I liked that view,” Britt said with a low chuckle. “No need to wrap up like a nun.”
“Oh, you!” she chided, tightening the belt even more. “I’m hardly dressed like a nun.”
A second later, he disappeared from view, but the leaves of the abundant ivy that grew along the side of the house began to rustle.
Melody leaned out over the railing to see his head appear in the thick shrubbery. “What are you doing?”
“I’m climbing up to the woman I love,” he said in a firm, determined voice.
“You’re crazy! You’ll kill yourself! You’ll fall.”
“I’ve done it before,” Britt said. “There’s a ladder here where I was repairing a broken window frame the lower floor just last week.”
Not two seconds later, his chiseled handsome face appeared and he swung himself up and over the balcony railing. Melody’s breath stopped. She clutched at the railing, trying to keep from melting onto the balcony floor. Britt wore faded jeans and a soft cashmere midnight blue shirt, his biceps bulging from the climb.
Wavering on her feet, Melody stared into his eyes under the moonlight. “What are you doing climbing my balcony, Mr. Mandeville? And what did you say a minute ago?”
“What did I say, Melody?” He moved toward her and placed his firm, warm hands around her waist. Her hands slid up along his chest, and her legs trembled with attraction and desire for this man. “You tell me what I said,” he teased, whispering into her ear as he held the back of her head and nuzzled at her ear for a moment.
Instantly turning into a bowl of melted Jell-O, Melody clung to him, tightening her fists around the fabric of his sweater. “You are downright mean.”
“I think you meant incorrigible.”
“That, too.”
“I can’t wait any longer to say how I feel about you, Melody. It’s driving me insane. You’re driving me insane. I want to sweep you off your feet, and sail away into the sunset.”
“I think you already did sweep me off my feet.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“You always have,” Melody admitted. “I just keep trying to hide it.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear, but you don’t have to hide it anymore.”
“Did you say you love me?” she asked in a whisper. “Do you really? Is that true?”
“Doesn’t it show?” he asked with a slow smile.
“Why are you telling me now—why tonight?”
He stroked his fingers along her cheek, gazing at the moon’s light falling along the dark strands of her thick hair. “Because I can’t wait any longer. We’ve spent a great deal of time together. More than many couples. There’s no more propriety over Crystal that has to be followed. Neither one of us have heard a word from her, so there’s no reason to wait. I do love you—fiercely—and with all my heart. I can’t stand being apart when I travel for work and I want to take you with me. Every moment of every day, all I want to do is touch you and hold you and kiss you. We should be together—if you love me in return. Tell me now before I pour the rest of my heart and soul into loving you.”
Melody’s eyes glistened with the happiness surging through her entire body. Her heart and soul was alive and tingling with joy. “Yes. Britt. I love you, too. In a hundred ways. I dream about you at night, and daydream about you during the day. You are the most generous man I’ve ever met. You’re kind and thoughtful and full of energy and ideas and talent. Mostly, I’m always happy when I’m with you.”
“That’s the best news I’ve ever heard.”
Britt’s hands spanned Melody’s waist, pulling her in tight before sliding his hands up along her shoulders to hold her face in his cupped hands.
Bending his head, his lips pressed down on hers with a passion that left Melody swooning and trembling. She kissed him back, his lips soft, gentle, then urgent and sexy. He tasted so perfectly, wonderfully incredible, she didn’t think she could ever get enough of him.
When their lips parted, she was breathless and limp, and Britt picked her up in his arms so that her feet didn’t even touch the ground any longer.
“I think,” he said softly, kissing the corners of her mouth, “my only problem is going to be not spoiling you every single day for the next fifty years.”
“Spoil away, just don’t remind me that you’re a billionaire. It’s too mind blowing. We can pretend it’s not real, okay?”
“I’ll pay the bills and pretend to have money problems once in a while so life feels normal.”
“It’s a deal, you incorrigible, lovely man.”
He gave a sigh of pleasure and Melody put her arms around his neck, pulling his face close to hers. “What’s that sigh for?”
“I’m just relieved that you’re not keeping me at arm’s length any longer,” he chuckled. “All the time I was gone to Savannah, all I could think about was how White Castle was going to be the most beautiful home for us.”
“It couldn’t be any more perfect. White Castle—and you—are a dream come true.” Melody stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and then they tripped over themselves and fell back against the balcony love seat.
The rest of the evening was spent laughing and kissing while stars glittered in the black sky and a silver medallion moon rose high above the tree tops.
Epilogue
Three months later, Granny Mirry’s house was restored and Britt and Melody had moved her back in.
During her recuperation from her illness, she had spent her days at White Castle going through boxes and trunks in the attic and sitting in the music room next to the pianoforte gazing at the beautifully restored dollhouse.
Old family photo albums came out of hiding and there were many nostalgic evenings or happy afternoons while she told stories of the last century.
Books on the Mississippi had a grand opening to celebrate its launch and most of the community turned out for the party, even the parish clerks at Plaquemine when they learned that the bookstore was owned by Melody and was a member of one of the past families of the beloved plantation.
There were cupcakes and cold drinks and a huge grand opening banner stretched across the cottage.
Part of the bookstore was a lending library for needy families, since the closest libraries were in Baton Rouge. Melody’s book orders came just in time to stock the shelves and the place was packed with curious neighbors and eager customers. “We may need to open up the next cottage,” she quipped at Britt.
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he told her with a grin, handing out gourmet cupcakes to the children and reading Dr. Seuss on a rug in the corner.
Florence Benoit, White Castle’s head tour guide, volunteered to help during opening week and she was busy at the cash register ringing up purchases while her assistant kept the gift shop attended and the tours of the grand historic home running on time.
Mirry was also up to her eyeballs in wedding plans for her granddaughter. She was impressed by Britt Mandeville and his love and care for White Castle, which made Mirry fall in love with him, too.
A week before Melody and Britt’s April wedding, Avery arrived from Chicago, satin wedding dress in hand for alterations and the final pearls and lace touches, including a ten-foot train and a Belgian lace veil.
Avery had designed it herself—a Victorian re-imagining piece of elegance, in keeping with previous brides through the ages. Melody had read about Cornelia Randolph’s wedding, getting married in the very same white ballroom nearly one hundred and fifty years earlier. She pinched herself at the incredible fact that she would be the first family bride in well over a hundred years to get married in the ballroom.
At the time, Crystal was conveniently, of her own scheduling, across the Atlantic in Italy on a photo shoot. A package arrived that contained a box of fine Italian goblets for the wedding toast, including a personal text message:
I’m happy for you, Melody, and hope you and Britt
have a “historic” life together. No hard feelings. I have a new man in my life! Hint: he speaks Italian and owns a villa in Tuscany.
“Your papa would be so proud of you, darling Melody,” Mirry told her as she and Avery helped her dress before the ceremony. “I know he’s here in spirit. He loved all you girls so much.”
Melody threw her arms around her grandmother. “Thank you for a wonderful life,” she whispered. “Even though I’ve always missed knowing Mama and Daddy, you and Papa were the best parents to me.”
“It’s a dream come true for me to see one of my girls married here at White Castle.”
“But you were supposed to get married here.”
Granny Mirry shook her head. “I have no regrets, sweetheart. Despite loss and heartache, I’ve had a wonderful life—and you are one of the reasons why. A very special reason and you, dear Melody, deserve every joy in the world.”
Avery’s husband and three children had arrived from Chicago the previous day and were exploring the house. Britt was probably not dressing yet—he’d taken her twelve-year-old nephew Trevor for a spin in the Ferrari. The boy was in heaven.
Melody could hear the three-piece string orchestra warming up in the ballroom and her heart fluttered with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see Britt and truly be married at last.
The past six months had been packed with rebuilding and renovations for both Mirry and the bookstore and she couldn’t wait to take a real vacation with the man she adored. Her old bookstore assistant, Lucy, had happily offered to keep it open while they were gone.
They planned to spend tonight in the White Castle bridal suite, and then travel to the Greek Islands for a month-long honeymoon of sailing, white sand beaches, and romantic dinners and dancing.
Voices came from downstairs and she peeked out the door of her bedroom to glance into the foyer. It was Britt and Trevor, back at last, carrying the black tux Britt picked up from the tailor. Right behind them was the parish priest who was here to perform the ceremony.
The Owner's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance Book 4) Page 18
