Desire (#1) by Cox, Carrie (important of reading books .txt) 📕

Soft pinks and the plump, dimpled flesh of the cherubs gave the room a warmer feel. It was such a small part of the hall overall, but it made a difference.

“It will look marvellous tomorrow night at the charity function. Mr. Easton said he wanted an uplighter focused on each side of the mural. It will be an impressive sight. Have you got much more to do?”

I shook my head. “Almost finished. I thought I’d take my sandwiches down to the beach below Cliff House while I wait for the last layer to dry.”

Mrs. Wicker’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s a beautiful beach, but watch out for the tide. It can turn in an instant down there. People have been trapped by the tide, so be careful.”

“I will.”

“Benjamin and Colin used to play in the caves when they were little boys. I told them time and time again they were dangerous, but they never listened.”

I smiled. “I suppose little boys enjoy danger.”

I longed to ask Mrs. Wicker more about Benjamin Easton, but I was scared my clumsy questioning might be reported back to him.

“How long have you worked here, Mrs. Wicker?” I asked, sticking to a safe subject.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at me. “It’s coming up to thirty-five years.” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe it has been so long.”

“So you worked for Mr. Easton’s father?”

“Yes, but not for long unfortunately.”

“Oh?”

Mrs. Wicker glanced over her shoulder, probably to make sure Carter wouldn’t catch her gossiping.

“Benjamin’s father died a young man, in a plane crash. So I actually worked first for Benjamin’s grandfather. Then after he died, Benjamin’s father inherited the estate but only for a short time.”

Mrs. Wicker leaned a little closer to me. “I’m not one to gossip, but it’s common knowledge around here that there was a nasty dispute over the inheritance when Benjamin’s grandfather died.”

“Really?” I prompted, intrigued.

“Yes, the old man had two sons. The eldest, Robert was … well, let’s just say he wasn’t very careful with money, so the old man left the estate to his younger son, Benjamin’s father.”

“And that didn’t go down very well with his eldest son,” I said, stating the obvious.

Mrs. Wicker nodded. “No, it didn’t go down well at all. He tried to contest the will and spent a fortune on legal fees, but the court upheld the original will. So the estate went to Benjamin’s father, and after he died, to Benjamin.”

I looked around at the opulent Great Hall. “Cliff House is certainly a prize. It’s a shame they couldn’t have both inherited.”

Mrs. Wicker twisted her lips then said, “Robert Easton couldn’t be trusted. His father was afraid he would gamble away the entire family fortune. He was what we referred to in those days as a high roller. It must have been hard for him though, growing up believing he was going to inherit all this … then to see everything go to his younger brother…”

Mrs. Wicker’s voice trailed off as we both heard footsteps in the Great Hall. I turned to see Carter creeping towards us.

I turned back to Mrs. Wicker, determined to ask one last question before the butler interrupted us. “So Mr. Colin Easton is Robert Easton’s son?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Wicker nodded. “Well, I’d better let you get on,” Mrs. Wicker said, taking a couple of steps away from me.

I scowled at Carter as he approached. I’d been interested in Mrs. Wicker’s story about the Easton family and I wanted to hear more.

“Mrs. Wicker,” Carter said and gave a stiff little bow to the housekeeper. I was surprised his bones didn’t creak.

“Mr. Carter,” Mrs. Wicker said, looking a little flustered. I supposed she was embarrassed at being caught gossiping by Carter. Dammit, now I would never get to hear the rest of the story.

Carter didn’t bother to address me. I was obviously not worth the effort. He looked down his nose at me, disapprovingly, then turned and walked away from us.

Mrs. Wicker followed him, muttering something about needing to make sure the new girl was polishing the silver correctly.

I took my lunch over to the cliff path for one last time. The path was open to the public and ran along the shoreline, behind Cliff House and the other Newport mansions, so I supposed I could come back if I stayed in the area.

I skirted around a patch of thistles, then sat down on the grass-covered bank and munched on my turkey on whole wheat bread, while staring out at the dazzling blue Atlantic.

It was so beautiful here in Rhode Island. I was tempted to stay. Maybe I could, if I found more projects.

There would be ample opportunity to advertise my skills on Saturday evening, if only I had the courage to attend. I stayed on the beach for an hour, enjoying the warm sun on my skin and cool, refreshing sea breeze ruffling my hair.

After lunch, I headed back to Cliff House and applied a few finishing touches to the mural. My eyes kept drifting to the staircase as I worked.

By five o’clock, I had to admit defeat. He wasn’t going to make an attempt to see me again. I was a fool to think he might be interested in seeing me. What would a man like that see in someone like me? He’d already taken what he wanted. I’d offered it up eagerly.

I wished I could have shrugged it off as great sex with a hot guy, but I found it difficult. I’d only ever slept with two other men, both in long-term relationships.

As I packed up my truck, I glanced up at the huge windows of Cliff House. I felt strangely melancholy, sad that I’d never see the beautiful house again. Inside the truck, I turned up the radio and sang along to a cheesy country song about strong women sticking together, and pulled out onto the gravel driveway. As the tires crunched over the gravel, I refused to look back. I needed to