The Billionaire's Temporary Bride (Scandal, Inc #3)(42)

"You're just darling," Angela said. She turned to Jack. "I like her. Charlotte, would you like me to show you where you'll be staying?"

Charlotte watched Jack nod yes. "Of course," she said. "I'd love that."

Angela took Charlotte down a long hallway into the kitchen, where she dumped the glass of wine into the sink. "The master suite is beyond the other side of the living room. You and Jack will be staying in his old room upstairs. Don't worry, we've updated it since he was a boy."

As she followed Angela up a back staircase, Charlotte remembered standing in her bedroom with Jack. Stepping into her room again had been like stepping back in time, and having Jack there had made her feel even stranger.

"Here we are," Angela said. She opened a door, and Charlotte's jaw dropped. Jack's room was enormous, with sweeping views of the ocean from a large, three-windowed dormer that stuck out from the steeply pitched roofline. The bed was on the opposite wall under two windows that gave a view of the beach stretching off into the distance.

"The bathroom for this room is through here," Angela said, indicating a door on the other side of the room, "but all seven are kept clean and stocked with fresh towels, in case you find another you fancy better. There's a walk-in closet through the other door. You should have plenty of storage for the weekend."

"There are seven more rooms like this?" Charlotte asked.

"Four bedrooms, including the master on the first floor, each with an attached bath, facing the water. The others face the forest and the marsh, but come on. I'll show you the rest."

Angela led Charlotte through the rest of the house, going room by room and explaining the different stages of renovation the house had gone through over the past several years.

"After Jack's father passed, I thought about renovating the house and giving it to my children, but I don't think I could ever leave. Besides, I don't know if I'll ever be done. An old house like this always has something that needs fixing," Angela said. "Jack thinks I've spent too much money on this house. I probably have, but I'm old and sentimental, so I guess I can give myself a pass."

After Angela finished showing the house, leading Charlotte through the library, a separate study and her craft room, all while going up and down three different staircases, she finally reached a small mudroom at the side of the house and handed Charlotte a heavy, fleece-lined sweatshirt.

"Come walk with me through my gardens," Angela said.

"I can't imagine much is growing at this time of year," Charlotte said.

"The beach is just beyond, and it's beautiful all year. I used to keep a greenhouse going in the winter, but I don't have the energy for that anymore. If Jack had brought you in the fall, I could have brought you to pick beach plums."

"Beach plums?" Charlotte asked as Angela swung the door open. The frigid New England air swirled into the room.

"They grow on bushes along the dunes," Angela said. "Jack used to love to pick them when he was little. They're small, and they're sweet. When they first blossom in spring, it looks like a fresh coat of snow has fallen up and down the beach."

Angela led Charlotte down a narrow path across the lawn. The grass was close-cut but dead, and Charlotte could hear the ocean crashing on the beach somewhere below. As they reached the edge of the yard, the ocean came into view below them. A wide and well-worn path cut back and forth down to the beach. Angela held a handrail on one side of the path as she started to make her way down. The surf broke and crashed against the sand below, foamy and turbulent. It looked like it was trying to reclaim the hillside for its own.

"This view hasn't changed in fifty years," Angela said as she looked out over the water. "I've spent the last few years wondering if that's a comfort or something else entirely. The water beats against the cliffside but hasn't moved more than an inch closer in all the time I've lived here. Sometimes, I wonder why the ocean isn't at my doorstep when I wake in the morning."

"It's beautiful," Charlotte said. "Does it ever get lonely with such a big house and so much land?" Charlotte asked before realizing her comment could be taken the wrong way.

"It didn't used to," Angela said. "There are always people around. Rick the groundskeeper, my personal chef Greta, Amos who runs the staff… and there's a cleaning woman who comes in a few mornings every week. We used to have more — maids and nannies, drivers and assistants. It was all too much. I've scaled back over time. With the kids back today, I gave everyone the day off. Whit brought lobsters from Maine. I figure we can't screw up boiling some water."

"My mother used to say if anyone could burn water, I could," Charlotte said.

"We'll put you on cake duty then," Angela said. "When Jack's father, John, asked me to move out here, I couldn't believe my luck. I thought that this would be the happiest home in the world. We used to bring the children down here to go swimming when they were still little. If you could only have seen how it was then."

The wind swirled off the whitecaps of the rough, black water.

"A summer wedding would be so wonderful, like a fresh start for this place." Angela turned and looked back up toward the house. "I've already started a list of improvements we'll need to make between now and then to accommodate everyone."