The Summer of Sunshine and Margot - Susan Mallery Page 0,19
He’d created the life he wanted and he was content. There were no highs, but also no worries that he would become unhinged.
She rose. “I won’t keep you any longer,” she said. “I just wanted to say hello and make sure we were both clear with the ground rules.”
“Of course.” He stood. “Have you discussed them with my mother?”
“I will and I’m confident she’ll be in favor of them.”
He allowed himself a slight smile. “We’ll see.”
“I can be stubborn and disciplined.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but Bianca has a way of making things happen that are more to her liking. She swoops in and rearranges until you’re left wondering how exactly things got that way. It’s a gift.”
She laughed. “You mean it’s a curse.”
“Not for her. Just us lesser mortals.”
“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to proving you wrong.”
“I am rarely wrong, Margot.”
“Neither am I.”
* * *
By nine-thirty that night, Margot was nearly giddy from her excitement about the house. She’d spent an hour in the small chapel, only leaving when it got dark. She’d checked out the empty guest room, the guest lounge and most of the kitchen. She’d made herself a sandwich for dinner and had discovered that the cookie jar was full of cookies. Homemade cookies with frosting or chocolate chips, all soft and gooey and if this kept up she was going to have to up her exercise routine. Or buy bigger pants.
Later in the week, when she had some free time, she was going to explore the gardens. The grounds were extensive—at least three acres—and she wanted to discover every inch.
It was late enough that she knew she should head to her room, but she just wasn’t ready. Bianca had gone out and Alec was somewhere—possibly his office or the media room and she planned to avoid both—so it was as if she had the entire house to herself.
She thought briefly about heading into the basement, but decided that might be too much for her first night. At some point she really did have to get some sleep. Just not quite yet.
She walked to the stairs leading to the second floor and told herself to be a responsible adult and just go to her room, only to hear someone coming up behind her. She turned and saw Alec leaving the kitchen. His gaze met hers and they both froze.
She recovered first and smiled. “It’s just me. I’ve been exploring.”
“Did you find anything unusual?”
“Not yet. What would count as unusual?”
“Old documents would be excellent. Artifacts, that sort of thing.”
“I doubt there are many hiding spaces left. The guys doing the remodel would have found them all.” She laughed. “What about a skeleton?”
“No, thank you.”
“Because it would creep you out?”
“Because it would bring too many people here.”
“Of course. The police, the coroner, reporters. You want something intriguing that won’t set off an invasion. I’ll do my best to make that happen.”
“Thank you.”
She expected him to excuse himself but instead he gestured toward the living room. “Would you care to join me for a cognac?”
She wasn’t sure a man had ever invited her “for a cognac” before. “Thank you,” she said, and followed him into the living room.
While Alec walked over to the wet bar against the far wall, Margot took in the high ceiling and clerestory windows across the entire east side. She would guess they had once been stained glass, no doubt removed when the property had been sold. Converting the monastery into a home must have been quite the job.
She took a seat in one of the wingback chairs by the sofa. Alec handed her a glass, then took a seat opposite her.
“Any ghost sightings?” he asked.
“I’m not sure I believe in ghosts. Do you?”
“I have yet to see one.”
“And seeing is believing?”
“When it comes to ghosts, yes.”
She took a sip of her drink. The cognac was rich and smooth.
“Edna mentioned something about ancient texts,” she said. “That if I saw anything that looked like old paper to not touch it.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I assure you, you will not find ancient texts lying around. They are all cataloged and protected.”
“Whew. Because I was really worried. I wouldn’t want to get a sweaty glass ring on the one document that could further our understanding of a language.”
“That would be a tragedy. Now you can rest easy.”
“So is that what you do? Study languages?”
“I’m more interested in what the texts say than the language itself. What was considered so important that it