Heron's Landing. JoAnn Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ it turned out to have been painted by Whistler.”

      “The Whistler? As in James McNeill Whistler?”

      “The very same. The original owner of this place had seen one he’d painted on the dining room in the home of some wealthy Liverpool shipowner and wanted something like it for this house. The fact that he was an American pulled a lot of weight with the historical committee.”

      “That makes it even more special. If I make a separate page for it on the website, it might even bring in historical art lovers wanting to stay here. Whistler’s got to have a following, right?”

      “Could be,” Seth agreed. “The same way people go around the country searching out certain architects’ work.”

      “Though, of course, that alone might not cause them to stay more than a single night. Fortunately, with the National Park and the proximity to the coast, and Victoria, BC, we’ve lots of other local things for visitors to do that will keep them here for at least a weekend, or longer. I’m going to make a list and put together packages on the site.”

      “You’ve thought this through if you’ve gotten to planning a website.”

      “It’s a nineteen-hour drive and a two-hour ferry ride from Las Vegas to Honeymoon Harbor. That gave me a lot of time to think. And I can tell from the expression on your face that you think it’s just a whim, but it’s not. Maybe the idea sounds impulsive, but it’s been percolating in the back of my mind for a long time. It just took an inciting incident to bring it to the surface.”

      Seth thought about asking what incident that might be, wondered if it had anything to do with a guy, then decided the less he knew about Brianna’s personal life, the better.

      “Except for updating all the wiring in the place to keep the house from being a fire hazard, the second floor hasn’t been touched,” he said as they walked toward the back stairs.

      Bandit usually took the opportunity to patrol the perimeter for renegade squirrels if no worker was around to mooch from, but today he seemed to have decided to tag along with the pretty new lady.

      “The circular stairway in the front entry is a showcase, but if it were the only one, the owners—who I guess would now be you—would have to keep running into guests.” Which he personally wouldn’t enjoy. Then again, ever since his wife got blown up, no one would refer to him as Mr. Hospitality on his best day.

      “Good point,” she said.

      “The third story attic’s been turned into a penthouse with its own kitchen. The previous owners intended to live there.”

      She shuddered. “I remember bats.”

      “They’re all gone. Though there is a bat house at the far end of the property, not far from the pond. Not only are they good for pollinating plants, one little brown guy can eat a thousand mosquitoes a night.”

      “That’s a plus,” she allowed.

      “All the windows, including those in the attic dormers, have been reglazed,” he assured her. “That wavy glass was a better insulator back then and, hell, it just looks better.”

      Brianna paused on the landing leading up to what was once an attic crowded with junk. And mice. And, yes, bats. She’d gotten one tangled up in her hair one night, he recalled. He’d managed to free her, but not before she’d practically blown out his eardrums with her screeching.

      While Zoe had long dark curls, Brianna’s hair was the color of caramel streaked with gold. As he got a whiff of its citrusy scent, he wondered if the streaks had been created by the blazing desert sun, or if she’d paid for them in some chichi salon. Not that he cared. It was just a random thought.

      “I can tell why you deserved to win that award,” she said, thankfully unaware of his thoughts. “You really care.”

      “Harpers built most of these old buildings,” he said. “It only makes sense that I’d want them to stay true to the original vision.”

      “Yet with your credentials, you could work anywhere. You’d undoubtedly be in demand in lots of big cities where you could make more money.”

      “I have all the money I need. And I like it here just fine. Though I have done a couple jobs, for cost, in Portland and Seattle for preservationists wanting to save them from the wrecking ball.”

      She gave him another slanted-head look, as if working for free hadn’t been a concept in her high-flying world. Which, he figured, it probably hadn’t been.

      “Let me show you the penthouse.” As he followed her up the stairs, it would have been impossible not to notice that she had a very fine ass filling out the back of those skinny jeans.

      Off-limits, he reminded himself firmly.

       CHAPTER NINE

      “OH, WOW.” Brianna stopped in the doorway of what she’d remembered as a spooky, cluttered bat attic. “This is an amazing space.” She walked in and turned around, arms outspread. “You could have the entire cast of Swan Lake dancing on these floors.” Which were natural light maple coated to a soft sheen.

      “Different strokes. I pictured the Trail Blazers running up and down the court.”

      “That’s ’cause you’re a guy.” A fact that, as she felt herself drowning in two deep pools of hot fudge, she was all too aware of. She glanced a long way up. “I don’t remember the ceiling being this high.”

      “It wasn’t. We raised the roof another four feet, which brought it to twelve feet.”

      “I couldn’t tell from the outside. But this makes it so bright and airy. Especially with the open beams and skylights you’ve added to the original dormer windows.”

      She walked over to the window and looked out over the water, where a successful haul had a pair of fishing boats moving slowly and heavily into port. A gleaming bridal-white and grass-green ferry chugged across the bay. In the distance, the wooded islands appeared like emeralds on a bed of sapphire silk.

      He gave her a brief tour, showing her the small three-quarters bath with a large shower with two walls glass, and the other two subway tile with gray grout. There was also a long counter with double sinks. She would have liked a tub, but lounging in a tub probably wasn’t something she’d have time for anyway.

      The walls had been painted a soft grayish sage that blended with the various shades of green outside the windows. A kitchen area with maple cabinets and a gray quartz counter ran along one wall, and a large island divided the living space. The new gas fireplace featured a surround created by vertical strips of marble in grays and whites.

      “It’s interesting that they chose such calming colors when the exterior is so discordant,” she mused.

      “I figured they thought people would expect bright colors on a Queen Anne,” Seth said. “Or maybe they’d always dreamed of owning a painted lady of their own back home in San Francisco.”

      “Whichever, paint can always be changed. Meanwhile, this space is lovely. You’ve almost made me forget the СКАЧАТЬ