Page 53 of Bookworm and the Beast
Like all the clothing in the Saltwater Style garment bags, it was decidedly on the sexy side.
As if.Hewisheshe was lucky enough to see me in this.
Adding to my irritation, Jack had pinned a sarcastic note to the outside of one of the bags.
Be my guest.
I took the dress off again and hadn’t touched one of them since. I wasn’t certain why he’d bought them. He made sure we never saw each other, so what did it matter what I wore while I was his “guest?”
If Jack thought he could buy my forgivenessora positive spin on the article I was writing, he had another thing coming.
I’d been alternating between the two outfits I’d brought along, and Phoebe the house maid had been kind enough to wash them for me.
Boring? Yes, but it wasn’t like I’d be running into any fashion critics between my room and the library.
Besides, it was only three more weeks. Jack’s deadline for Anthem in Obsidian would come, and I’d… go. I’d leave this place and never see Jack Bestia—or anyone else here—again.
The thought sent a twist of emotion through me. I’d grown rather fond of Phoebe, as well as the kitchen maid Simone, and Calvin the gardener, Monsieur Laplume, and of course, the quirky little butler, Harrison.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Harrison came into the library, holding my phone. “It’s time for your daily call with your father, miss.”
I reached for the phone, eager to hear my dad’s voice. Harrison took a seat in the chair next to mine, prepared to listen in on the conversation, as directed by themaster of the house.
Jack had relented on this one contract stipulation, allowing me to speak with my father, so long as Harrison listened in on my end, and Mrs. Potts listened on the other.
Though the butler obeyed orders by staying in the room, he went to a bookshelf and selected something to read, keeping his nose in the book the whole time.
Dad picked up on the second ring. “Hello? Bonnie lass?”
“Hi Dad. How are you today?”
“Fantastic. How are you?”
I chuckled at his exuberance. “Fantastic, huh?”
He did sound happy. Exceptionally so. Each day I called he seemed to be in a good mood. Don’t get me wrong. I was happy he was happy. It was just… unusual. The loss of his eyesight followed by the loss of my mom had left him in a depressed state for the better part of the last year.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Well, Aileen and I have just had a lovely lunch.”
“Aileen?”
“Potts. Mrs. Potts. You didn’t know her first name’s Aileen?”
“I did. I just didn’t realize you two were on a first-name basis.”
“Charming woman,” he said. “We were about to watch some Netflix.”
I almost choked over my surprise. “Really? That’s great. Would you mind if I spoke to her a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll get her for you.” I heard some shuffling of the phone and then Ail—Mrs. Potts’ voice.
“Hello dear. Is everything all right with you? Are you settling in comfortably?”
“Yes, I’m fine. How’s my father doing?”
“Oh, Bill is a delight. We got to talking yesterday about Eastport Bay and ended up chatting for hours. I think he knows more about my hometown than I do. When I get back, I’ll have a whole new list of things to see and do.”
