Page 23 of Stars Shine In Your Eyes

“I’m sure it will all be great,” Josie said, positive as always.

Mari smiled gratefully at her, obviously appreciating the boost of enthusiasm. “Here we are,” she announced as they reached the string of attached cottages.

Josie exclaimed, “These are amazing!”

He tried to see them through her eyes and could see the charm. Though on a much smaller scale, the cottages matched the Pemberton House with its exterior of old gray stone, soaring roof, and big windows. The manor had clearly been built by someone who understood proportion and grandeur. The cottages were more intimate, probably built for the staff, but featuring the same gray stone, pretty windows, and slate roofs.

Mari got out a large black iron key that looked like it must be original, and opened the main door.

As she pushed it open, she invited the others inside. Josie gasped again, but this time it wasn’t a good, happy gasp. It was a horrified one.

“I know,” Mari said. “It looks pretty bad, but I think after a good cleaning, it will be so much better.”

Malcolm suspected it wasn’t going to be as simple as giving the place a good once-over with a broom and a sponge. It seemed as though this cottage, and probably the others, had become the junk rooms for the manor house. Broken furniture, bits of china, and even a carriage wheel crowded the space. Everything was filthy, and the place smelled dank. He bet there were mice in the cupboards and bats in the attic.

“I think you’re going to need to do a little more than just cleaning,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could. “Let’s see the rest of the place, and then we can assess the situation.”

“I’ll definitely need to get rid of the junk,” Mari admitted, “but I think some of it might be salvageable.”

Josie went to a window and wrestled it open, letting in light and air, which helped. A bit.

Malcolm kept his comments to himself as they toured the space. There was a lot of work to be done, and if Mari owned the buildings instead of leasing them, he’d want to do some renovations. Mari looked more and more worried as they made their way through the other cottages. It wasn’t the materials that would cost so much. A good scrub and some paint would do wonders. It was the labor. If Mari wanted to hold a reading retreat next week, she’d need labor, and plenty of it. Malcolm knew where the labor would be coming from.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll all help you with this. I know my way around a tool belt and paintbrush, and I find myself with a free week on my hands.” His thoughts flicked briefly to Thailand. Beaches, jungles, sunsets, fine hotels. And oddly, he realized he’d rather be here painting walls so that Josie and Mari could host a reading retreat than holidaying in style with Katrina.

Mari smiled at him gratefully, then shook her head. “You work all the time as it is. I can’t ask you to help me clean up these cottages.”

“Honestly, it’ll be a fun project.” He found himself looking forward to something that didn’t involve a computer, or a meeting over drinks, or a flight to another country. “It really would be my pleasure to help you, Mari.” And an excuse to spend more time close to Josie, said a voice in the back of his head.

“Of course, I’m happy to help too,” Josie said. “The house I grew up in was an old Victorian that always needed work.” She flexed her hands. “I’m pretty handy.”

“You’re so sweet to offer,” Mari said, “but that’s not what you came here to do. I want you to choose the books and lead the retreat. You didn’t come here to paint walls and take broken tables to the dump.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and appeared troubled. “I let my enthusiasm get away from me. I can’t imagine we’ll be ready to host a reading retreat before you have to fly home.”

Josie looked at Malcolm with a silent but clear question in her eyes. If we work on these cottages, can we get this off the ground for Mari?

He gave her a tiny nod, and she turned back to Mari with a smile. “Actually, I think this makes the project even more exciting. I’ve never been quite this much on the ground floor of a project before. Heck, it’ll be like the heroine of a great story who finds herself in a foreign land, helping to bring a historic property back to life.”

Mari laughed. “You mean a gothic castle. Well, if both of you are sure—”

“I am,” both Josie and Malcolm said at the same time.

Just then, Mari’s phone rang—the ringtone the chorus of a Beatles love song. She blushed. “That’s Owen. Do you mind if I take it?”

“Go ahead,” Josie said.

“Hi, Owen. What’s up?”

Malcolm watched Mari’s eyes light up. He’d seen a huge change in his brother ever since he and Mari had started dating. Where Owen had been too serious for many years, Mari seemed to have lightened his whole personality. And it was obvious that his brother had done the same for Mari, given how devastated she’d been by the death of her father.

Mari went to the corner of the room and spoke softly while Malcolm moved closer to the walls to see how much needed doing before they were ready to paint.

Josie turned slowly in a circle as though she were on a stage about to deliver a soliloquy.

When Mari ended the call, her eyes were huge. “You’ll never guess what Owen just told me! The London Bookseller wrote an amazing piece about the bookshop and our Mathilda Westcott connection. It’s the entire front page of the mystery section. I had no idea anybody was even thinking of doing a piece about it. He’s sending me a copy, but he says Mathilda was interviewed and raved about the shop, especially the re-creation of the living room where her fictional sleuth works. I can’t believe she didn’t mention the interview.”

“She wanted to surprise you,” Malcolm guessed.

“Congratulations,” Josie said. “That’s fantastic news.”

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