Page 30 of Valentine Nook
Where the walls used to be cream, they’re now wallpapered in thick blue stripes. The wooden floor is stained dark instead of its previous pale oak, and I can see the edges of a curved table with a huge bunch of roses sitting in a vase that wasn’t previously there.
It’s not the house I found Caroline and Jeremy in, but I still can’t bring myself to investigate what other changes have been made.
“That’s okay, I won’t disturb you. I’ll have someone around this afternoon, and you can show them. They’ll be here in anhour.” I pull out my phone and shoot off a message asking James to get it handled. “Will that be okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, taking a step back followed by another.
She’s still standing there as I turn and walk to the car.
It takes all my self-discipline not to check and see if she’s still watching when I close the gate. Will I be disappointed if she isn’t?
As I get behind the wheel, I realize I never apologized, and I never mentioned the cooking lessons.
This means I’ll have to see her again, and for some inexplicable reason, I don’t seem to mind.
CHAPTER 6
Holiday
TANNER: How’s the straw roof?
HOLIDAY: Stopped leaking, thank god.
TANNER: Can you seriously believe they make their houses out of straw?
HOLIDAY: No, yet here we are.
TANNER: And you’re definitely staying?
HOLIDAY: I’m staying. I like it.
TANNER: Then we’ll be over to visit as soon as the season is over.
HOLIDAY: You better. And can you send me some more pictures of my nephew in the meantime please? I haven’t had any this week.
TANNER: In the morning, once I’ve had more sleep. Love you.
HOLIDAY: Love you too.
I’m about to toss my phone onto the bed when it rings, and my agent’s name flashes on the screen. It’s eleven o’clock here, which means it’s six o’clock in NewYork, and while my brother was awake for his son’s morning feed, it’s been rare I’ve heard from anyone before lunchtime the past couple of weeks.
I hit the button right before it cuts out, and Marcy’s face fills the screen.
Marcy was my first agent when I entered the industry fresh out of high school. Straight black bob, hitting just below her jawline, and a face pumped so full of Botox that I have no idea how old she is because she looks exactly the same as the day I met her.
She taught me everything I needed to know about standing on my own two feet, and I owe my career to her. On the flip side, she likes me working, and I know she’ll have been slowly driving herself crazy from declining any offers coming in for me.
From the looks of it, she’s already in her office, and I’m ashamed to say I’m still in bed. I woke up, made a coffee, and decided to get back under the comforter. I’ve had a delightful morning trying to read a book while listening to the birds and the occasionalclip-clopof horses’ hooves.
“Hey Marce, how’s it goin’?”
“Holiday, honey, boy, are you a sight for sore eyes,” she crows, though her face doesn’t move.
“Oh yeah?” I laugh.
“Yeah. Tell me everything. I want to hear it all.”
