Chasing Shadows (First Wives #3)(15)

“I don’t want any of it.”

Avery took in the dark hall of family portraits professionally painted on canvas. “Not even the artwork?”

Sheldon Lankford considered the paintings and shook his head. “My parents waited until they were fifty to adopt me. I never met any of these people. I was raised by a series of nannies and knew my parents through weekends and the occasional summer vacation.” Sheldon kept looking up at the vast walls that filled the room, which hosted thirty-foot ceilings. “Did you ever go to boarding school?”

Avery sighed. “Yes.”

Sheldon focused on her as if surprised. “Then you know.”

At thirty-five, Sheldon inherited his parents’ wealth with the passing of his mother.

His father had died eight years prior from a sudden heart attack. His mother had lived out her years in a mausoleum of a home with a full-time nurse and a truckload of medication. From what Avery knew, Sheldon made sure his adoptive mother was being cared for and that no one was squandering the accumulated wealth of the Lankford family fortune.

And it was quite a sum.

Sheldon had learned of her services through her ex-husband. When Bernie heard that she was working, he offered to cut her another check. As tempting as that sounded, Avery liked that she was providing a service and being paid for it. Since most of her clients were in the upper ends of the tax bracket, her payday matched her spending habits . . . or it was getting there.

“Family photographs?”

Sheldon shook his head. “I’ve already taken what I want.”

“Okay, then. A house this size will take some time to go through. I have a questionnaire.”

Sheldon frowned. “Homework?”

She smiled. “People collect crazy stuff in their lives. I need to know what your parents held value in. Did your mother collect art? Did your dad have a habit of buying antique flasks or pens? I’ll bring in the experts needed to place the pricey items in the correct auctions. You’re paying me a percentage to take the burden off of you. A few questions and I’ll make sure the overlooked frame old Grandma Beth is in isn’t discarded. Once I’ve farmed the stuff of known value, I’ll hold the estate sale.”

Sheldon nodded. “What about the house itself?”

“You’re selling?”

“Could you live here?”

Dark, dingy . . . full of spiders—she cringed at the thought it was the exact opposite of how she lived. “Do you want to sell as is or get top dollar?”

“Are you suggesting remodeling?”

“I don’t think dark paneling and dated kitchens sell homes. But the location would bring in investors and people who can’t afford to come into the neighborhood at a high dollar. That said, it is Brentwood. You’ll make millions walking away, regardless.”

Sheldon took a breath and Avery cut him off. “But since you’re hiring me to go through the interior, I would urge you to get as much as you can from the home itself.”

“I don’t want to deal with any of it,” he confessed.

“Then we sell.”

“I’m also allergic to work.”

Avery grinned. “Let me come up with a couple of contractors and bids for the basics. Do you have a Realtor in mind?”

Sheldon shook his head.

“I’ll find a couple . . . get an idea of what we’re talking about. Money invested, time . . . and bottom line, money in your pocket.”

“What do you charge for that?”

“I can’t say I’ve done it before. So nothing. I have to be here to sift through a lot of stuff, so inviting a real estate agent or two over to give their opinions on things isn’t going to take any more time from me. You’ll have to pick who you like and what you ultimately want to do.”

“You’re obviously not allergic to work.”

“I used to be. Then I bored of spending money . . . or more importantly, I realized that I needed to work in order to shop the way I wanted to. Growing up in a world of boarding schools and pretentious parents made this job perfect for me.”

Sheldon turned on his leather loafers and tugged on the silk sleeves of his two-hundred-dollar shirt and looked her up and down as if for the first time.

For a brief moment, Avery felt a chill.

“How long is this going to take?”

“You want it done right or fast?”

“Right.”

“It’s an eight-thousand-square-foot house with fifty years of living.” She set out a timeline they could both work with, taking into consideration the smaller estate she was working with in Seattle that she was wrapping up. At least Brentwood was closer to home.

By the time Avery left the Lankford estate, she had the keys and a signed agreement for her services. Services that apparently now included obtaining a Realtor and a contractor. It was time to start hitting the networking circuit and finding contacts.





Chapter Seven



“I used to hate these things,” Shannon told Avery as they walked into the mixer wearing professional, I’m more than just arm candy attire.

Of course the designer shoes, clothes, and attitude completed their professional yet high-class facade.

They approached the reception desk and gave their names. The intern wrote each name on a standard sticky label and handed it to them.