year earlier,” she said wistfully. “To be the first graduating class of the century…”
“Not many people can say that,” he agreed. They were getting to the end of the field, and he lifted the discs on the hydraulic and then made the slow sweeping turn back towards the barn. “I think I’m ready for some of that breakfast you made us. Are you hungry?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 10
Carla
Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate. The most pure.
This kiss left them all behind.
~Grandfather in The Princess Bride
After arguing – and losing – that she should be the one to empty out the picnic basket and spread the goodies out on the ground, Carla leaned back on her hands, legs crossed in front of her, and watched Christian with a happy sigh. She could get used to having someone else take care of her.
“Did you hear the latest about the Roberts’ mansion?” she asked lazily, turning her face up to the warmth of the sun.
“No, what’s happening with it now?”
He was nearing the bottom, where she had the cheesecake stashed away for dessert. She had no idea what food he liked to eat, so the whole meal had been a giant stab in the dark, with a heavy emphasis on “giant.” She’d packed food for an army, figuring that if she offered enough variety, she was bound to bring at least a few items that Christian liked to eat.
“I’ve heard a woman is interested in it,” she said, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth. Nothing was better than early summer weather. She tilted her head towards Christian and cracked one eye open, eager to see his reaction to the news. “She came all the way from back east somewhere to look at it.”
There was a moment’s pause, and then they both burst into laughter.
“Some lady flew all the way here to look at the Roberts’ mansion?” Christian finally got out, and shook his head in dismay. “I hope she brought her hazmat suit with her. I don’t mind mucking out horse or cow shit, but mice and rats’ poop and piss? Hell no.”
Carla shrugged and moved to sit cross-legged. “It…wouldn’t be my cup of tea,” she said tactfully, “but that mansion is beautiful. Four stories? Seventeen bathrooms? I can’t remember how many bedrooms, but yeah. The place is huge. With enough money, someone could turn it into a hotel or something.”
“And every square inch of the place is stuffed to the rafters with shit,” Christian said, passing one of the paper plates in its bamboo holder to her, and then began loading up his own. “I don’t care how pretty the stained glass windows are. There isn’t anything wrong with that place that can’t be cured with a match.”
“Christian, no! You’re one of those who thinks the county should ‘accidentally’ set fire to the joint, aren’t you?” She shook her head in dismay. “Homes of that age and stature aren’t replaceable, you know.”
He paused with his breakfast burrito partway to his mouth, thinking. “I do like older homes with character,” he finally allowed, “but in the case of the Roberts’ mansion, there are mountains of trash between you and that character. There wasn’t a newspaper or receipt or junk mailer that Mrs. Roberts didn’t love. I think if you dug deep enough, you might find the stone tablets from Moses buried in there.”
“Exactly!” Carla said, delighted that he finally understood. “Think of what treasures are buried among the junk. Sure, you have to dig through a lot of empty tin cans and newspaper circulars from fifteen years ago, but I bet there’s some really cool stuff in there.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Let me guess,” he said dryly, “you’re one of those who thinks there are gold bars buried under the trash.”
“Maybe,” she said primly, not sure if she wanted to admit to the fact that the idea had flitted more than once through her mind. “I don’t know. Mrs. Roberts does seem the kind to hoard gold bars.” Christian laughed at that, and she sent him a quick grin. “But whether the famed gold exists or not, I’m interested in her years as an interior decorator. Did you know that she used to have clients who’d sit on a waiting list for a year, just for the privilege of paying her to decorate their homes?”
“Oh wow,” Christian said, his chocolate-brown eyes going a little wide at the