It Started At Christmas…

“What’s wrong? I made a fool of myself today. I lied to get an interview with you, and then I had a panic attack in the middle of it. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.” She forced herself to stop talking. If she couldn’t get her emotions under control, she deserved to go home to Mom. Maybe she’d find some nice job in a furniture store selling people plaid sofas.

“Come on, you had a panic attack. That’s a physical condition that’s out of your control.” His hand dropped to rest on the mattress next to hers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Clearly, I’m a long way from okay. You’ve been kind, but I’ve taken enough of your time. I need to go.”

“Stay…” His hand rested on hers, and he stared at it as if he was as surprised as she was.

They both heard Mel’s footsteps, and quickly pulled their hands away from each other before she walked in. She looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously before fixing her gaze on Amanda, who was wiping the last of the tears from her face.

“What happened?”

“I’m fine.” Amanda’s hands were shaking. She tucked them under her arms and tipped her head toward the box Mel carried. “I’m also starving.”

Her cousin stared hard at her, then shrugged. “If you’re up to it, there’s plenty of food.”

They ate together at the kitchen island, Blake and the two women. Mel was staring at him with sharp skepticism. And Amanda wouldn’t look at him at all. He set her sketchbook on the marble counter.

“I looked at your drawings.”

Amanda straightened. “You went through my bag? While I was unconscious?”

Mel started to stammer. “N-no, honey. I did. I wanted him to see your portfolio and the sketchbook was there, so…”

“Those were just dash-offs, not something I’d ever show to a client, Mel.”

Blake spoke before Mel could respond.

“Amanda, you were right this morning. I did like your original proposal. That’s why I set up an appointment with someone who turned out to be you.” He smiled at the flush of color on her cheeks. “And these sketches really make your ideas come to life.” He opened the book. “I mean, a sectional in the living room? With a wide-screen TV? You seriously think that can work in a castle?”

“Sure. Victorian is all wrong for this place, and for you, I’m guessing.” He grunted in agreement. He hated all the pink and green wallpaper. She nodded with a smile. “Halcyon’s architecture is solid enough to support whatever style you want. I’d stick with the classics but give it a modern twist with some pops of color and fun accent pieces.” She was in her element now. She might be young, but she knew her stuff. Her proposal had been highly detailed and professional. Even those dashed-off drawings were compelling.

“You really think this can be done?” He gestured to her sketch of the office.

“Of course. It’s mostly cosmetic work. There’s no actual construction, other than the bookcases in the office. The only reason the budget is so high is because of the sheer size of the place and massive amount of horrible wallpaper you have to remove.”

“I need it completed before Christmas. Is that doable?” Nathan clearly had no interest in giving Zach a family Christmas, so it was going to be up to Blake. His chest grew tight. He’d never bought a Christmas decoration in his life, but he had to do something for the boy. Amanda was staring at him with wide eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re hired.” He set her sketchbook on the counter. He didn’t believe in impulsive decisions, but this just felt right. “You’ve sold me on your vision. So tell me how long.”

“Aaand this just turned into a business meeting,” Mel laughed, “which is my cue to leave. I might still make my spa appointment after all.” She gave Amanda a quick hug. “I knew you could do it, sweetie.” Mel looked at Blake. “You’ve made a good decision.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet.” Amanda’s chin jutted out in defiance.

Interesting. A few hours ago she’d been begging for it.

Mel laughed again. “You two don’t need me to figure that out. Just don’t overdo it after this morning. Got it?” That last question was for him.

“Got it.” Satisfied, she left them alone.

Amanda looked a little shell-shocked, and he wanted to give her time to absorb her new job. But her silence dragged on so long he started having doubts. He flipped through the sketchbook again.

“Are you suggesting painting the wrought-iron chandeliers orange? That’s not a pop of color, it’s… I don’t know…an explosion?”

“It’s not orange, it’s paprika.” She sounded prim and defensive. “It’s a spice color. It brings a touch of fun and whimsy to the space. This should be a home where you feel free to kick off your shoes and relax without feeling guilty about it.”

“I doubt fun and whimsical are words people normally associate with me.”

“So surprise them.”

He looked back at the drawings. “You’ve surprised me. Are you taking the job?”

She hesitated. “Don’t hire me out of pity, Blake. I don’t want your charity.”

He gave her a steely glare that usually had his employees quaking in their shoes. She blinked, but didn’t look away when he spoke. “I run a billion-dollar business. I don’t make decisions based on pity. You’re a designer out of work. I’m looking to hire a designer. Do you want the job or not?”

Her willingness to walk away from a job she needed and obviously wanted surprised him. Finally she sighed and pushed her plate away. “Let’s take another look together and discuss it.”

“I promised Mel we wouldn’t over—”

“I’m not talking about taking a grand tour. But this kitchen is too modern—it’s an add-on, right?” He nodded. The 1990s kitchen was efficient, but generic. Amanda grimaced. “I can’t feel the house in here.”

Blake had no clue what that meant, but he followed her into the main hall. She rested her hand on the mantel and smiled a secret little smile that made his pulse quicken.

“This was once a home so full of love.” She looked up at him through long lashes. “Do you know its history?”

“Yes. The stories are full of romance and tragedy—”

“Tell me the stories.” Her gentle smile wasn’t a secret this time. It was aimed at him, and it caused him to stutter.

“T-tell you what?”

“Tell me the stories of Halcyon. Knowing the history of a home helps me get a feel for its personality.”

He shook his head. He wasn’t a storyteller. No one had read him fairy tales as a kid. No one had read him anything. Even the nannies were too busy for such frivolity. He wondered if Zach liked stories. Had Tiffany used to read to her son? “There are plenty of people around who know the history better than I do. I just wanted the land, not the legend.”

“There’s a legend? Now you have to tell me!”

He leaned against the mantel and racked his brain for the history of Halcyon. He’d been disgusted with the whole stupid story right up until the moment Amanda Lowery fell in love with it.

“The house was built in the late 1800s by a wealthy banker from New York named Otis Pendleton. His young wife, Madeleine, fell ill, and they thought the country air might cure her. She got better, and apparently Otis had money to burn, so he built her a castle here. He stayed in the city during the week and came here on weekends to see her and the kids.”

Amanda walked over to the ebony staircase and sat on the steps. He followed her.

“Are you tired? We can do this another time…”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m fine, just taking it all in. Finish the story.” He stared at her, and she gestured for him to get going. She was a bossy little thing when she wasn’t a nervous wreck. He sat on the stairs below her, stretching his legs out in front of him.