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

gotten me this job. I couldn’t start over again. It had been bad enough last time, having to leave a thriving business and start from scratch. I had to be more careful.

I grabbed the brushes I needed from the truck and the box of varnishes and hurried up the stone steps to the entrance of Cliff House. At the imposing oak door, I paused and rang the bell, then tried to arrange my features into a blank expression. My friends always told me my face was like an open book, and right now I did not want Mrs. Wicker to notice anything was different.

“Bright and early as usual, Kate,” Mrs. Wicker said and opened the door, smiling warmly at me.

Mrs. Wicker was the housekeeper at Cliff House, and she had overseen most of my work so far. I guessed she was around sixty years old. She always had her steel grey hair clipped in a bun and wore a very prim navy blue dress. I supposed it was some kind of uniform as I had never seen her wearing anything else.

“Good morning,” I said, giving her a quick smile, then I dipped my head and scurried onwards towards the Great Hall.

Despite my distraction, the grandeur of the hall took my breath away. The enormous room was two storeys high and at least fifty feet wide. My shoes tapped on the expensive, gold-flecked marble. I felt as if I was entering a museum. I had never seen a private residence as vast as this one. Most of the other mansions in the area had been taken over by the Newport Preservation Society. Cliff House, owned by the Easton family, was one of the few buildings that remained privately owned.

Mrs. Wicker didn’t seem to notice my desire to be alone. She entered the Great Hall with me and beamed up at the mural, which was almost complete.

“You’ve done a marvellous job with it, Kate.” She walked closer to the mural, gazing intently at the small cherubic figures.

When Mrs. Wicker had shown me the intricate mural on the wall of the Great Hall on my first day at Cliff House, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The beauty and intricacy of the painting just blew me away.

Over the years, the paint work had faded and taken on a slight yellow discolouration. But as a professional art restorer, I had no problem fixing that. I had beamed at Mrs. Wicker and told her I foresaw no difficulties in finishing the restoration in two weeks as requested.

She looked a little anxious then beckoned me over to the other side of the hall and pulled back a white screen that had been hiding an identical mural. Identical in every way, except for the scarlet paint splashed across the surface.

I actually gasped and clapped a hand against my mouth. I couldn’t believe this could have happened accidentally, but how could anyone have so little respect for such an exquisite piece of art?

Mrs. Wicker had nodded sagely at my response. “Yes. An absolute tragedy.”

When I asked her how the damage had occurred, she was quick to brush me off and change the subject. I told her there was no way I could finish the repair in a fortnight. I was good at my job. I’d trained long and hard at it, but I wasn’t a miracle worker.

Mrs. Wicker pursed her lips and said, “It must be finished in two weeks, Katherine. Mr. Easton is holding a gala dinner, and he insists the mural be ready for display. How would it look if the guests were to see the mural in this state?”

She promptly doubled the amount of money on offer if I would agree to have it finished in time. It didn’t take me long to decide. I was broke, and I hadn’t had a restoration job in six months.

I was glad Mrs. Wicker was pleased with my progress. I hoped she might spread the word about my work. I could really use her help in landing a few projects to get me up and running again. Since I’d left Miami, things had been pretty tough.

“Thank you,” I said and looked up at the mural. I’d managed to get rid of all the surface red paint. All I had to do now was to add layers of varnish and be careful not to dislodge any of the gold leaf.

“Are you okay, Kate? You look a little distracted.”

I blinked and shook my head. “Oh yes, everything’s fine. Just, you know, got to concentrate.”

Mrs. Wicker nodded and looked pleased. “I understand. An artist needs peace and quiet to work. I’ll tell you what. I’ll bring you a pot of coffee then leave you to work. How does that sound?”

“Thank you,” I said. “That sounds great.”

I watched Mrs. Wicker leave and exhaled heavily. So far so good. Now I needed to keep my mind on work for the rest of my time here.

The event this morning with the gardener … I stopped in my tracks as I realised for the first time I didn’t even know his name. I’d been about to get down and dirty with a man in the great outdoors, and I didn’t know anything about him. What was I thinking? I supposed that was the problem – I hadn’t been thinking. Well, it wouldn’t happen again.

I took a deep breath. Perhaps I could give him my phone number and arrange to see him after I’d finished work at the estate. That would be okay. I shivered as I imagined all sorts of naughty things we could get up to once I’d finished the restoration project.

“Here we go.”

Mrs. Wicker’s voice startled me, and I turned to find her standing behind me, with my coffee.

I thanked her, took the tray and set it down on my small fold-out table.

“Oh I almost forgot. Mr. Colin Easton will be here this afternoon. I imagine he is very keen to check on your work. He is very interested in the