A New Foundation by Rochelle Alers (philippa perry book txt) 📕

and occasionally hosting little get-togethers for her friends, coworkers and family members. Hopefully, after she completed her commission to restore Bainbridge House, she would be able to concentrate on moving into a condo or cooperative.

She settled back against the leather seat and watched the passing landscape as Taylor followed the road signs leading to the Governor Mario Cuomo Bridge. It would be her first time crossing the new twin cable-stayed bridge spanning the Hudson River between Tarrytown and Nyack.

Living temporarily in a hotel and having a car at her disposal was a pleasantly unexpected perk.

“Cool jazz or R&B?”

Sonja knew Taylor was asking what she wanted to listen to. “Cool jazz.”

He winked at her when she gave him a wide grin. “We’ll listen to R&B on the return ride.”

“Thank you, Taylor.”

He shook his head. “I should be the one thanking you. You’re going to make my job easier because I don’t have to search for an appraiser. We have a tentative estimate that once the property is fully restored it will be worth one hundred-fifty million. But that doesn’t consider the contents. You will be responsible for authenticating the value of silver, crystal, china, paintings and furnishings.”

“It’s going to take time to go through everything, but I promise to do my best to make Bainbridge House a showplace for the twenty-first century and beyond.”

Chapter Four

Sonja hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she felt constriction in her chest forcing her to exhale. She was a sightseer, staring out the passenger-side window at the passing towns named McAfee, Sussex and Quarryville. She’d become more alert once Taylor maneuvered off the main road and onto a private one. A fading sign indicating the number of feet to Bainbridge House came into view as Taylor slowed and maneuvered into the hidden driveway. Age-old trees lining a cobblestone roadway were just beginning to display their spring yield, and she tried to imagine what they would look like during the height of summer.

Within minutes of hanging up after Viola’s phone call, Sonja had wondered about how the Williamsons were connected to the historical property. Were Viola’s ancestors free people of color who had made a fortune before or following the Civil War and had purchased three hundred acres on which to build their mansion? She did not want to think of another possible scenario where a wealthy white man had fathered a child of color and had left him the property in his will. Sonja knew the questions would plague her until she was able to begin an intensive search on the Bainbridge family.

Taylor drove through a massive open iron gate and Sonja felt as she’d been transported back to a time in Europe where châteaus were country retreats for royals and nobility. A gasp escaped her when she got her first glimpse of Bainbridge House. The château was built on a hilltop overlooking a broad expanse of recently mowed green fields; soot and fading stones did little to lessen her enthusiasm to view the interiors. The authenticity of the design made her wonder if the château had been disassembled in Europe, transported to the States, and then rebuilt brick by brick.

Taylor stopped and cut off the engine in the circular driveway. “What do you think?”

Sonja removed her sunglasses, setting them on the console between the front seats, and then undid her seat belt. “I can see why you said you were overwhelmed. Bainbridge House is magnificent. It reminds of the castles in the Loire Valley. By the way, I noticed the grass has been cut.”

“The caretaker keeps the grass from being overgrown.” Taylor also unsnapped his belt. “Are you ready to see what’s waiting for you?”

He had asked her if she was ready, but Sonja wasn’t certain she actually was ready to take on what she assumed was a monumental project. She’d viewed and toured more châteaus, monasteries, castles, museums and churches than she could count both as a child and an adult, and being a student of art, she never ceased to be awed by the exteriors, interiors and their contents. However, this was different. This was to be the first time she would be responsible for cataloguing and managing artistic and cultural collections. She did not have the postgraduate degree to become a curator at a national museum; however, she did have knowledge of restoration and art history.

She gave him a bright smile. “Yes.”

Reaching for her camera, Sonja waited for Taylor to get out and come around to help her down. He’d rested his hand at the small of her back and then dropped it. “I called Dominic Shaw to let him know we were coming today to leave the gate open and air out several rooms on each floor of the house.”

“He lives here year-round?”

“Yes. Mom says he calls her whenever he’s going on vacation, and that means the property is left unattended. I informed him yesterday that I’d scheduled a security company to wire the house and the grounds because once the renovations begin work people will be coming and going at different times and days.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t done before.”

“So was I,” Taylor admitted. “I’m guessing that because the house is off the beaten track and surrounded by high walls and a fence it hasn’t become a target for vandals and trespassers. I’m certain folks in the area being aware that the property isn’t abandoned also acts as a deterrent.”

Sonja wanted to tell Taylor that walls, gates and resident caretakers were no match for those intent on burglarizing the house and taking off with valuable items that were irreplaceable. And if Charles Bainbridge had spent ten million dollars to build his home, she was certain he had spared no expense decorating it.

They mounted the half dozen steps to the front door, flanked by window boxes with overgrown ferns. Taylor opened the door, and Sonja followed him into an entrance hall with rooms branching to the right. Grit on the marble flooring made a crunching sound as she glanced