Page 43 of Cosy & Chill
“You’re the client. You can change your mind.”
Finn winced. “I don’t want to bethatkind of client,” he said as Roisin’s voice floated down from upstairs.
“Are ye comin’ or not?”
“There’s no treasure in this house. She has to know that,” Finn said quietly as they followed Roisin up the stairs.
“Agreed. The Tienfields had this place cleared when the owner died, and they made a good job of it. If there was treasure, they’d have found it.”
“Not necessarily,” Roisin called from the floor above, proving that she had cat ears.
“You’re deluded,” Leo yelled back. “And another thing. This house was built in 1858. How can it possibly contain a Saxon treasure?”
Her voice floated down to them, clear as a bell. “Because the hoard will be here when I look for it.”
They found Roisin on the top floor in what had once been servants’ quarters. Two bedrooms stretched the whole width of the house, connected by a bathroom. Back in Victorian times, three or four people would have shared each bedroom. Now, the rooms made brilliant children’s dens. Or hobby rooms, of course.
Roisin poked her nose into every corner. She even inspected the cubbyhole under the sink.
“This room doesn’t need any help. I’m going to use it as a workroom,” Finn said to get her moving. “Don’t want my stuff cluttering up the house.”
“What do ye need in here?”
“Not a lot. Drying racks for one. I can wash and block all the work here. Blocking boards are like big canvases. You pin the finished piece to it while it’s damp and let it dry. I need floor space to lay out the boards.” He indicated the area under the window that he’d kept free and waved at the pasting table he’d set up against the other wall. “This is my worktable. Only thing missing is a chair.”
Roisin took all this in before she turned to Leo. “Do ye want the room next door done up as a workroom, too?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m more concerned with getting the shop open.”
“Right ye are.” They left the room and stood on the landing feeling useless, while Roisin explored the second bedroom. When she’d seen what she needed, she shooed them down the stairs to the next level, and onwards after little more than a glance.
“I understand bedrooms,” she said when Finn shot her a glance. “I can fix ye both up with nary a problem. Just tell me one thing: ultramodern or traditional?”
“Traditional,” Leo said immediately. Finn could have guessed that from the way Leo smiled every time he saw the big dining table with its carved chairs. Or from knowing that the three items he’d rescued from his grandma’s house after her death had been a purple sofa and two armchairs upholstered in lavender.
“What about yerself?” Roisin poked Finn in the back, interrupting his thoughts. “Modern or traditional?”
“Comfortable,” he answered, without thinking. “Peaceful. Safe.”
“Gotcha.”
“This works as it is,” Finn said when they returned to the main living area.
“Really?”
“It works for the moment. We’re not made of money, you know? The store is important. Everything else gets done when we can afford it.”
“I hear ye. The store’s most important,” Roisin reiterated, humouring him. “Let’s go see that then.”
It was two in the morning when they stood in the store and explained their dreams.
Despite the late hour, Roisin’s eyes burned with excitement, and she bounced on her toes while she listened. When they were done explaining, she positioned herself in the middle of the store and turned in a slow three-sixty while her gaze swept from floor to ceiling and side to side, almost as if she was measuring dimensions in her mind. A grin lit her face when she finished her inspection.
“Got it. That will do nicely. And now, gentlemen, I will leave ye to yer rest.” As if she’d been welcome all along, she marched to the back door, slipped around the building and waved at them a moment later from the street.
“Well,” Leo said when she was out of sight. “How did the nicest Saturday I’ve ever spent turn into the weirdest?”
Finn was too tired to answer, but he was asking himself the exact same question.
