“Bianca, why are you trying to distract me?”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re the one who wanted the dinner party. I’m saying let’s go for it.”
“Yes, and I appreciate that. But you’re avoiding the conversation about last night. We need to talk about it.”
Bianca sighed heavily and dug her spoon into the bowl. “Fine. Talk. I was horrible. What was I thinking? Wrong me. There, are we finished?”
Margot genuinely couldn’t process all the information Bianca was throwing at her. Most of it was in code, but it was there, if only she could figure it out.
She leaned toward her client. “You weren’t horrible at all. You obviously love Wesley and he seems like such a great guy. I’m glad you’re happy with him. And it’s wonderful how you want to make sure you fit in so you don’t jeopardize his job.”
Bianca’s gaze was wary. “But? Because there’s always a but and it’s never good.”
“We all react when we’re nervous. We all have a default position we take to defend ourselves. But for some people, going on the offense is a stronger position. I think you might be like that.”
Margot smiled gently. “If you make the conversation about the other person in a disarming way, you deflect attention and give yourself a chance to regroup. You don’t have to think when you lash out, which means you haven’t done anything to mitigate your anxiety.”
“I don’t lash out,” Bianca snapped. “Who would I lash out at? Alec? Are you saying I’m a bad mother?”
Her reaction had headed the direction Margot wanted, but it was more intense than expected. Yet something else to mull later.
“You’re one of the bravest single mothers I know,” Margot said. “You literally gave your son the world. All the places he got to visit when he was young, all the experiences he shared with you. I know you two were a team. Yet when he was a little older, you let him go to boarding school, even knowing he was going to be so far away. I don’t think I could have done that. I think I’m way too selfish.”
Bianca’s entire body relaxed as her expression softened. “I had to let him go. It was what he wanted.”
Margot smiled. “Yet more love. I admire that and I’m a little envious. My mom took off when my sister and I were still toddlers.”
“Did she really? That’s awful. How could—” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You did that on purpose. You totally changed the subject.”
“Yes. When I did, your energy changed, too. You were able to breathe and be a part of the conversation. You weren’t defensive or angry anymore. You felt my interest and empathy. It’s something I think you could easily learn. You already have acting skills that would be a big help. When you feel stressed or nervous, energy builds up. One way or another, it’s going to dissipate. Why not help that happen in a positive way?”
“Instead of drinking too much?”
“Exactly. Alcohol doesn’t really make the situation better. It simply masks the problem.”
Some of the wariness returned. “You think you’re so smart.”
“I think I know what I’m doing, otherwise why hire me?”
“I’ll consider it.” Bianca rose and carried her melting ice cream to the sink. After setting it down, she turned back to Margot.
“I still want to have the dinner party right away.”
“I’ll talk to Edna in the morning.”
“See that you do.”
With that, Bianca flounced out of the room. Margot stared after her. She would guess they’d moved past the easy, pleasant part of the training and into the more difficult work. On the bright side, she did love a challenge.
* * *
When Margot walked into the dining room for breakfast the next day, she noticed two things at once: that Alec wasn’t reading the paper and that there was a second place setting at the table.
She hadn’t seen him the previous day—her early morning run had meant she’d missed the simple buffet—so today was the first breakfast since their post–cocktail party dinner.
“Good morning,” he said when he saw her. He motioned to the extra place setting. “You’re more than welcome to take a tray back up to your room if you’d prefer, but if you’d like to stay and eat at the table, I would enjoy the company.”
An odd fluttery sensation set up shop in her belly, making her suddenly not know what to do with her hands. Or her brain.
“I, ah, that would be nice. Can you give me just one minute?”
She hurried out of the room and ran back upstairs. After collecting the ledger, she returned to the dining room and set the old leather-bound book next to him.
“I found this last night,” she said as she poured herself coffee. “It dates back to 1912 and details all the purchases made by the monks. There are also some unexpected trades. Did you know the monks raised honey?” She reached for a plate. “I guess I mean they raised bees and harvested honey. Also, they had quite the herd of donkeys that were relatively expensive. Donkeys and honey. Who knew?”
While Bianca got a little outrageous when she was nervous, Margot knew she got too chatty. She scooped eggs onto her plate, added a couple of slices of bacon, along with a croissant, then told herself to stop talking.
Alec flipped through the ledger. “Where did you find this?”
“Up in the attic. There’s a lot up there. Some of it is just trash, but there are some historical items that probably should be cataloged. They might be of interest to the local historical society or a university.”
He looked at her and smiled. “You’re not afraid to go into the attic at night?”
“No. Ghosts aren’t my thing. And you’ll be pleased to know there wasn’t a single skeleton to be found.”
“That is lucky.”
She picked up her coffee. “The attic needs more exploring. After that, I’m going to be going through the cellar. I’ll do my best not to see any bones there, either.”
“I appreciate that.” He studied her. “I’ve lived here nearly five years and I’ve never done much more than go pick out wine in the cellar.” He smiled. “I always knew if I got started exploring, I wouldn’t stop until I’d combed every inch of the place and I haven’t had the time. I see I should have made more of an effort.”
“Absolutely. People lived here and died here for centuries. Every inch of it is beautiful. The carvings, the stained glass windows, the bell. Your house is very swoonworthy.”
“Is that how we’re describing it?” His voice was teasing. “I’ll accept the compliment on my house’s behalf.”
“You should.”
They smiled at each other. She felt a little zing of tension, which she ignored. It was enough to know Alec saw her as more than an appliance. She wasn’t going to push her luck. Still, it was nice to find a man other than Dietrich attractive. It meant there was hope for her after all.
“How are things with my mother?” he asked. “I didn’t see her around yesterday.”
“She stayed with Wesley until the early evening,” Margot admitted. “I got a text in the morning telling me she was skipping our lesson.”
“Are you surprised?”
“A little, but I’m trying to understand her more. She wants me to get the formal dinner scheduled as quickly as possible.”
“You sound worried.”
“I hope she’s enthused because she wants the practice and not as a distraction. I just don’t know which it is.”
“Does it matter?”
“Your mother is an intelligent woman—she could easily learn all the skills and customs she needs to be successful as Wesley’s wife. Which fork goes where isn’t the problem. It’s something deeper. A belief system. I’m starting to think she acts out because she doesn’t know what else to do in the moment. But knowing that is only half the battle. If I
don’t know why, then it’s harder to overcome.”
“I understand your point, but I’m afraid I have no insight.”
“That’s okay. Are you still willing to have the dinner here?”
“Of course, but I might need to be schooled in the correct fork to use.”
She smiled. “We’ll have a refresher course before we head into the meal. I texted my sister last night and she spoke with her boss. They are happy to come. They’re bringing Connor, who’s eight. So the seven of us. I’ll speak to Edna today about a menu.” She smiled. “Sunshine said Connor told her icky grown-up food was okay as long as there was a good dessert.”
“I’m with Connor. Any dress code? Shall we go black tie?”
As much as she would love to see him in a tux... “I think we can wear regular clothes for the dinner. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m up for another round of what’s appropriate to wear with your mother. I’ve reached the place where I need to pick my battles and right now, that’s not one of them.”
“Knowing your limitations is the sign of a sound mind.”
“I shall embroider that on a pillow.”
* * *
James and Jessica Neal were earnest, stubborn and unbelievably rich—traits Declan had never had a problem with separately or together. Until today. As the thirtysomething couple changed their minds, yet again, he gazed longingly at the large windows in the conference room at his offices and wondered if the three-story fall would maim him enough to get him off the project.
Heath Harter, his business partner, caught his gaze and nodded toward the windows, as if he, too, were suggesting they risk the consequences.
“It’s just we want to use as much acreage as we can,” Jessica said, her soft tone insistent. “We’re totally invested in making this property the best it can be—for our guests and everyone in the community. We want to be a good business neighbor.”
An admirable trait that had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation at hand.
“I’m sure the local residents appreciate that,” Declan said, hoping his impatience didn’t show in his voice. “It speaks well of you two and the project. However, what we’re discussing is whether or not you want us to design a walking trail up into the mountains.”
James, a bland-looking man with a receding hairline, smiled at his wife. “He’s right, Jess. Let’s stay on the walking trails. We like them, right?”
She nodded. “We do. But do we want walking or hiking and if we’re talking hiking, aren’t there different levels of hikes? Plus, we don’t want to scare any wild animals or hurt indigenous plants.”
Of course not, Declan thought. God forbid you disturbed a leaf with a walking trail when you’ve just ripped out three acres to put up a damned hotel.
Heath quickly put several large sheets of paper on the conference table, because James and Jessica weren’t into PowerPoint presentations. It wasn’t organic when it was on a screen.
“Here’s what we were thinking,” he said, as he pointed to the first sheet. “We start with an easy walking trail from the rear gardens. It will be well marked, lit with solar lights and have benches along the way. Once we reach the end of the manicured gardens, there will be three hiking trails all heading into the mountain. One easy, one moderate and one challenging. We’ll have signage explaining how long each trail takes and how difficult it is, along with a map showing the route.”
Jessica and James exchanged a look of delight.
“We love it,” James said. “It’s perfect.”
Having been burned by the shifting winds of opinion before, Heath passed them a pen. “Great. If you’d both initial the map please.”
As they scrawled their initials, Declan braced himself for his part of the presentation. He, too, had giant sheets of paper, which made no sense. A PowerPoint presentation was clean, easy to change and didn’t use resources like paper. Clients—they would be the death of him.
“We’ve brainstormed options for the rear gardens,” he told them. “We’re looking at just over an acre of relatively flat land. We can increase that by a bit if we use terraced gardens in the back.”
“Terraced rather than sloped?” James asked.
“Terracing makes it easier for us to capture rainwater. We’ll build in collection areas so there’s less runoff and flooding for those rare winters when we get a couple of inches in a day.”
Jessica nodded. “That makes sense. What else?”
He flipped to another sheet of paper. “You could have a produce garden over on the east side. The chef would work with your head gardener to determine what would grow best. The chef could pick the fresh produce at a certain time of day and the guests could either watch or participate.”
“Oh, that’s good,” James said. “We could offer that as part of a package. A true culinary experience. I wonder if we could have a couple of cows and make our own butter and cheese.”
“You’re still in the city limits,” Heath said quickly. “There are strict zoning laws.”
“That’s true.” Jessica pursed her lips together. “Too bad, because we do love cows.”
“Who doesn’t?” Heath muttered.
Declan cleared his throat to avoid chuckling. “So, ah, in addition to the produce garden, we were thinking some kind of maze. It would take a while to grow the hedges but it could be a real centerpiece of the grounds and fun for guests of all ages.”
“Yes, we’ll do that,” Jessica said.
James nodded. “Absolutely. That’s totally our brand.”
This was their first hotel, Declan thought. They didn’t have a brand yet. They had money and an inability to stay on topic.
“Another alternative is a butterfly garden,” he said, pulling out a third sheet. “This is more expensive as it would require a habitat, but it’s unique. We could work with one of the local universities, maybe breed an endangered species. If you’re interested in that, we’ll have to research the costs and find out where they’re doing research. UC Irvine for sure.”
“A butterfly wedding garden,” Jessica said dreamily.
“We could renew our vows there, Jess,” her husband told her.
“If you want the butterfly garden, that could be the overarching theme connecting the outdoor space,” Heath said.
“We want it all.” Jessica’s voice was firm. “Everything you’ve discussed.”
Of course they did. Declan spread out the pages. “There’s not enough room for everything. You’ll have to pick the items you like best.” And hey, decisions are not your strong suit. But, of course, he didn’t say that out loud. Or run toward the window. A big victory all around.
“We can’t possibly decide,” Jessica said, her voice a whine. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll talk about it.”
James collected all the pages. Heath quickly pulled back the one they’d initialed. They would keep that so that later, if—or when—they changed their minds on the hiking trails, the company had proof they’d signed off on the plan.
“We’ll need a final decision in the next few weeks,” Declan told them. “We’ll have tentative numbers on the butterfly garden to you by this time next week. But until you finalize your decisions, we can’t draw up a plan, tally costs or reserve materials and crew.”
“Whatever you decide is going to be extraordinary.” Heath rose as he spoke.
James and Jessica stood. Declan joined them and walked them toward the door.
“Thanks for coming in.”
They all shook hands. When the hemp- and sandal-wearing couple was on the elevator, Declan sank into a chair by the conference table and looked at his business partner.
“I’m sorry we took the job.”
“You’re sorry? I’m the one who’s going to have to figure out how we price out a butterfly enclosure.”
“You’d be
tter talk to the bug people at UC Irvine.”
“They’re not called bug people. Someone who studies butterflies and moths is a lepidopterist. I looked it up online.”
“Good. Now you’ll sound like you know what you’re doing.” He glanced at the initialed drawing of the hiking trails. “How many times do you think they’re going to change their mind this time?”
“At least a dozen.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”
Chapter Eleven
Margot always wore her hair back in a ponytail. Alec hadn’t seen her hair any other way, which had become maddening. He tried to imagine her with her hair down and he couldn’t get the image exactly right. He wasn’t sure how long her hair would be or how soft it would look, and thinking about her and her hair was both ridiculous yet oddly soothing, assuming he ignored the inevitable ache that accompanied such thoughts.
Margot and her ponytail were beginning to drive him mad. Worse, he was starting to like it.
The afternoon of the formal dinner, he’d helped her set the dining room table. She’d placed a diagram on an easel so they could make sure everything was in the right place. From left to right, napkin, salad fork, dinner fork, service plate with a salad plate on top, dinner knife, teaspoon and soup spoon. There was a bread plate and knife, a water glass, red wineglass, white wineglass and a cup and saucer.
She’d been so intense as she’d set the table, so determined to get it all right. He knew she was doing her job, but it was more than that, he thought. She was on a mission.
Some people might think what she did was silly or without merit, but not him. He knew what it was like to toil away on the obscure when those around him didn’t get the point. She was a perfectionist but not to the point of being annoying. She was funny, too, and genuinely cared about his mother.
He liked her, he thought with surprise. And that ponytail...
Alec told himself to ignore it as best he could. He changed into a suit and was in the living room precisely at five minutes before six, just in time to see Margot walk down the stairs.
The Summer of Sunshine and Margot Page 13
