The Art of Inheriting Secrets(99)

I laughed. “Okay, Heidi Klum.”

“I won’t stay with it forever. But like it. Being outside all day. Minding my own business, making something beautiful.”

In my ear, the phone buzzed, then buzzed again. “I have to go. I’m getting calls.”

He chuckled. “The life of a famous countess.”

“Right. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m proud of you, Olivia. Good night.”

He hung up before I could reply.





Chapter Twenty-Three

By Saturday morning, I had accomplished enough at the flat to pack up my things and move when Pavi came by to pick me up. It was very early, just after sunrise, and she carried a lassi with her. “Try this,” she said. “It’s rose. But I think it needs a little something more.”

“Rose lassi?” I said and smiled. “That sounds so romantic.” The taste was subtle, not as bright as the strawberry but delicious anyway.

We dropped my suitcase at the flat, and Pavi turned in a circle. “You must have worked like a demon. This place looks amazing.”

“It’s been a very long stretch since I had a place to call home. I was motivated.” The bed was made, and I dropped my suitcase there. “I ordered groceries for delivery,” I said, swinging open the American-style fridge. “How posh is that?”

“You’re going to have to learn to drive,” she said.

“I am.” I took a breath and spun around in a circle. “Yay! Home!”

We’d left the door open, meaning only to stay for a moment, but a cat—the cat—came sauntering in. Seeing the two of us, he sat down just three steps out of reach and swung his tail in a tidy circle around his feet. “Well, hello, Meow Meow.”

“Meow,” he said.

“I actually remembered to buy you some food,” I said. “Wait right there, and I’ll get it for you.”

“You’re going to feed a stray cat? He’ll never leave.”

“He’s my cat,” I said and realized I meant it. “He’s been showing up since I arrived.”

“Just don’t get your heart broken, sweetie. Who knows how old he is or if he’s healthy.”

I lifted a shoulder, pulling the lid off a can of cat food, which I dumped onto a saucer and put down on the floor. “It’s all yours, Meow Meow.” I backed away.

For a moment, he eyed me suspiciously, looked at the plate, then back to me. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and stood, then walked over to the plate as if he did this every day.

And wolfed down the food.

“Oh, look, he’s starving!” Pavi cried.

“He’s probably not starving, but it’s nice to eat cat food.” I glanced at my phone. “We should get over to the site. He can stay. I’m going to leave the door ajar.”

“Is that safe?”

I gestured around the room, barely furnished. “There’s nothing to steal but my good pots, and anyway, it would be awkward for people to come over here.”

“Fair enough.”

My phone buzzed with a text. “That’s Samir,” I said. “He’s made it to London and will be here when he’s had a shower.”

“Good.” She shook her head, frowning. “I wish Samir would stop it with this whole thatcher thing. I don’t like Tony. He’s capricious and erratic.” She narrowed her eyes. “I also think he’s got something going with that Rebecca person.”

“Do you think so? I thought that the first time I met them.”

“I just don’t like him. And anyway, it’s dangerous for Sam to be climbing up on those roofs all the time. I worry about it.”

I didn’t feel I had a right to say anything about that. As we walked up the hill, I did say, “I’ve been reading his books.”

“And?”

“He’s a wonderful writer, but he’s much better with the science fiction than the literary stuff. The first one is great and funny and real, but—”

“Science fiction?” She halted.

“Damn,” I said, quietly, and paused. “Let’s just leave this right here, okay? I can’t say anything more.”

For a moment, she narrowed her eyes at me. Then she smiled, and the dimple appeared in her cheek. “You’re right. And I’m so, so glad he’s writing again.”

Miming a zipper across my lips, I tossed away the key.

“I understand.”

By ten the trucks and tables were in place, and although a few clouds scuttled over the sky, it looked to be a beautiful day. Some of the women tenants had gathered flowers into wild bundles they tucked into canning jars of various colors, and crews of moms from the elementary and preschools made sure the tablecloths were secured and that there were plenty of paper plates and cutlery. A bake sale to benefit the local mobile library set up just outside the Rosemere kitchen, and they asked if they could charge a pound for tours of the kitchen, which had more takers than I would have ever expected.

I changed into a fluttery dress, which made me think of the first day I met the earl and his garden party. It had not been long ago at all, and yet he’d made his way into my heart.

But I felt the part of a countess as I greeted villagers and other locals who made their way to the picnic. The hem of my dress fluttered around my knees, and a soft breeze brushed through my hair. Children tumbled over the grass, and the men—and some of the women—gathered around pints of good brown ale, and the music was exactly right.