Chapter Eight
Teddy
Vincent Jeffry was horrified to find Kiara and me washing dishes in the kitchen. Without a word, he snatched the dish towel out of my hands and shooed us both out into the hallway. The kitchen door shut firmly in our faces.
"I think I screwed everything up by firing your chef," Kiara said.
I shook my head. "No, you did us a favor. I was getting sick of runny eggs and cold toast. Chef Nolan wasn't much of a morning person."
She laughed. "So, if I'm not allowed to do the dishes, what I am supposed to do?"
I led her into the grand foyer. "Normally, when our guests first arrive, I take them on the tour of the estate."
Her figure shrunk slightly as she looked up at the opulence of the entryway. I regretted my comment. The last thing Kiara Davies wanted was a tour of my elegant and pristine home when hers was a pile of sodden ashes.
"I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me," I said.
She held up a hand. "No. You have a home you should be proud of. Where do we start?"
"I know," I said with a wink. "Instead of a tour, why don't we do a little exploring? I haven't been down to the cellars since I was a child. It's a maze down there."
Her eyes lit up. "Exploring sounds like fun."
I led her to the secret door underneath the grand staircase. We peered down the curving steps and grinned. "I'm not going to lie," I said. "It's spooky down there."
"Scared of thunderstorms and dark basements?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
I laughed and led the way. "I got lost down here when we first moved in. It took a while for the nightmares to go away. Now, I look at it as a testament to my bravery."
Kiara was not impressed. Instead, she caught my arm on the narrow, curving stairs. "When you moved in? I thought you always lived here, but then you mentioned cooking with your mother in a small kitchen."
I shrugged and recited the line I had been coached to say. "My parents didn't always see eye to eye, so they had separate residences for a while."
I don't know why I couldn't confide in Kiara, of all people, but my father was adamant that my illegitimate birth be kept low profile. It was common assumption that my parents lived together my whole life and were intending to get married all along. The tragic timing of my mother's death solidified the story as truth.
"All right," Kiara groped for my hand. "I'll admit, it is creepy down here. I feel like we're the first people who have been in these rooms in a hundred years."
"More like twenty," I said, happily tugging her closer to me. I held up my lantern and led her down the dusty hallway.
"Wow," she whispered, glancing at the floor. "Even abandoned under twenty years of dust, these floors are beautiful."
I blinked, having never seen the elegant mosaic tiles and inlaid marble that graced the old, basement floors. "We must be near some of the original rooms."
Kiara pulled back as we stepped through a darkened doorway and into a high-ceilinged room. "Are those hooks hanging from the ceiling?" she squeaked.
"Oh my God, what is this place?" I whispered. My smile was threatening to break through.
Kiara stepped forward and squinted into the darkness. She still clung to my hand, but her stance was bold. She was of petite stature, yet I was always surprised when she only came up to my shoulders. It was the way she held herself: tall, strong, and fearless.
My heart flipped as Kiara scanned the ominous room. There was a yawning, a blackened fireplace, a groove worn into the floor where something large was missing, and hanging dust-covers that shielded a myriad of strange shapes. I was about to shout “boo,” in the hopes of making her heart race like mine was when it appeared.
The shadow lifted off from the floor in a cloud of dust and flapped wildly towards us.
"Pigeon!" Kiara's scream was a lot louder than her astute observation warranted.
We found ourselves clinging to each other, her scream ringing in my ear, as the bird hopped out a broken window pane and disappeared.
"Don't laugh at me," Kiara scolded as I began to chuckle. "You jumped, too."
"Recognize the spooky room yet?" I asked, happy when she did not pull out of my arms immediately.
"It's the original kitchen," she said, her laughter turning to awed delight. "Nothing's been changed. It's amazing!"
"I thought you might like it. I didn't expect the pigeon." I leaned over as if Kiara was a magnet.
Her hands softened but still hung on to my shoulders. "I can't figure you out, Teddy Brickman."
"You're surprised that I'm a real person," I said, slipping my arms around her slim back. "I've always looked like a caricature to you from across that lawn."
"Did I look like a stray dog?" she asked.
I pressed her tighter against my chest, ignoring the blooming heat where her pert breasts rubbed against me. "Never. You looked like Little Red Riding Hood, ready to take on any wolf. And I was jealous of you."
She shook her head and realized just how close we were when our noses almost brushed. "Don't lie."
"It's true. Where you lived looked warm and safe, while where I lived felt like this," I glanced around the forgotten room.
"I don't know," Kiara smiled. "I kind of like it in here."
I gave into her gravity with a soft groan. Her lips were still curved in a smile when I tasted them—just a soft sip to satiate my curiosity. I pulled back, jolted by my own hunger.
Kiara rose up on her toes, her lips parting as she kissed me. I was engulfed by the taste of her, the daring brushes of her tongue, and the way she moved against me like a rolling wave. I caught her closer and felt my hunger growing. There was no holding back, no cautious give and take; there was only the all-consuming heat of the kiss.
She pulled back, breathless. "No. Don't get the wrong idea."
I swayed forward, but stopped. "What wrong idea? That you might actually like me and want to kiss me?"
"No," she said. "I don't want you to think I'm only showing gratitude. Or that I'm trying to ensnare you to get what I want. Or that I'm the kind of woman who goes around throwing herself at rich men."
I pressed a finger to her mouth, only regretting it wasn't another kiss. "I have to admit, I wasn't thinking very much during that kiss."
She stilled. "So, I can stop babbling?" she asked with a rueful smile.
"And start exploring," I said, reluctantly letting her go.
#
I caught Vincent Jeffry as he skulked around the house, carefully checking rooms and turning off lights. He turned off the lights in the ballroom, took one more scan of the cavernous room, then turned around and gasped.
"Storm got you jumpy, too, Vinny?" I asked with a chuckle.
He drew himself up to his full height and tugged down the cuffs of his sleeves. "I apologize, sir. Is there something I can help you with at this late hour?"
Kiara had said goodnight an hour ago and left me prowling the lower floors, wondering what to do. It was perfect that just after I settled on a course of action, my housekeeper had appeared.
"I noticed how comfortable and beautiful Kiara looked today. I think it'd be nice to furnish her with more of a wardrobe. You helped her find those clothes. Can you tell me what size she wears?" I asked.
Vincent Jeffry's eyes widened, and he strode past me into the hallway. "No, sir. I wouldn't want to be indiscreet."
"Come on. I want to do something nice for her while she's staying with us. What woman doesn't like a few new outfits?" I asked, following him as he marched away.
He stalled by checking the library, even though no one had gone inside it for over a week. "Ms. Davies might get the wrong idea."
I laughed. "You know, Kiara spouted something about the wrong idea earlier, too. What's with that?"
His cheeks grew pink. "What happened earlier?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"Aha. You aren't a robot, after all," I said. When he didn't even feign a smile, I poked him in the ribs with my elbow. "Come on, Vinny. I just want to know what size to tell my personal shopper. She could have the clothes by mid-morning tomorrow."
"She may not like that," he intoned as he sidled into the grand foyer.
I shook my head. "Nah, she'll be fine. I just have to make sure she doesn't get the wrong idea."
"The wrong idea about what?" Kiara asked from the stairs.
Vincent Jeffry jumped right alongside me, but as I stepped forward, he melted into the servants’ hallway and disappeared. I faced a frowning Kiara on my own.
"I was just saying how if I knew what size you wore, I could have my personal shopper drop off a few outfits by midmorning."
She scowled. "I'm not a doll for you to dress up, Teddy. I have clothes at my apartment in Brooklyn. I just need to go get them."
"So that's what he meant by 'the wrong idea,'" I muttered. "Fine. Forget what I said. What are you looking for? Is there something you need?"
She stalked down the rest of the stairs and made a wide circle around me. "I don't need anything. I was just hoping to borrow a book."
I led the way to the library, hoping I could redeem myself. "They might be a little dusty, but take your pick."
Kiara softened. "Don't let Vincent Jeffry hear you say that or he'll be insulted."
I turned on a few lights, and the room filled with a warm glow. The multi-colored bands of leather-bound books made for a cheerful atmosphere. Titles winked in gold leaf as we walked along the first shelves. Farther back, the library boasted four parallel shelves with a tight aisle between and books lining both sides. Kiara was drawn into them, and I couldn't help but follow.
She frowned as she found herself cornered. "Don't get any ideas, Brickman."
"Why does everyone always think my ideas are wrong?" I asked, wounded.
She smiled. "As if you aren't used to getting everything that you want."
I puffed up my chest. "My father was a firm believer in making me earn everything I wanted. He also docked my earnings any time I bent one of his many, many rules. So you can quit thinking of me as spoiled."
Kiara selected an illuminated book of poetry and slipped past me. She stopped at the door and tossed me a mischievous smile. "Who says I'm thinking about you at all?"
I caught up to her and stepped in close. Kiara, in typical Davies fashion, did not back down, and we ended up toe to toe. I leaned down so my lips were only an inch away from hers and heard her soft intake of breath.
"Maybe you will now," I whispered. Then, I swung past her and into the grand foyer.
The sound of her laughter as she headed back upstairs stopped me in my tracks. Her laugh chimed throughout the old, empty house and banished all the dreariness. As I paced around the palatial first floor one last time, I felt a difference.
It suddenly felt like home.
#
I caught Kiara the next morning at an insanely early hour. I just didn't tell her that I had to set four alarms to make sure I beat her to the kitchen. Instead, I handed her a steaming mug of coffee and pointed her towards the front door.
"You made coffee?" she asked, sniffing the mug.
"I had a good teacher," I told her. "Plus, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up before your drive."
She stopped sipping her coffee and planted her feet in the grand foyer. "What drive?"
"To your apartment to get your clothes," I said, pulling open the front door.
"Teddy, wait. I didn't tell you, but my truck was completely totaled in that accident. You might not remember-"
"Of course I do," I said.
Her eyes rounded in surprise, but she kept going. "And I can't afford the cab fare. I'm just waiting for my last paycheck to clear before… Whose truck is that?"
I finally led the way out of the front door. "Yours. Old Jim told me about your pickup, so I bought this one for you."
"You bought a truck for me to use?"
I tried again. "I knew you'd be too stubborn to use any of my sports cars, so I bought a truck for you. To keep. It's your truck."
Kiara spun around on the front steps with a dark frown. "Just like that, you bought me a truck?" she asked. "I can't accept that, Teddy. What is wrong with you?"
I chased her back into the grand foyer and caught her arm. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Trust me, that truck barely cost a thing. Why can't I give you a gift? If anyone else helps you, its kindness, but if I do, it’s the 'wrong idea.'"
Her dark eyes flashed. "You don't understand."
"Where are you going?"
"To get my things and leave. I'll find my own way back to Brooklyn, thank you very much. If you wanted me out of here so badly, you could have just said something. You didn't need to go that far." She stomped up the stairs and left me speechless.
The echo of her words reminded me of an argument I’d had in that very same spot with my father. He'd bought me a fancy cell phone and laptop, but I was mad because that meant he was leaving. My father had insisted I keep the gifts because then we could keep in closer contact, but I had refused. What I was really upset about was being left alone again. My father knew that, but was trying to buy my affection.
No wonder Kiara is getting the wrong idea, I thought. I was trying to be affectionate, but all I knew how to do was buy her things her pride wouldn't allow her to keep.
I wandered into the music salon and sat down at the grand piano. The song was complex, both melancholy and lilting. When the music crescendoed and filled the room, I finally felt like I could think straight. Somehow, playing the piano had always been a comfort and an oasis for me. When I was playing, the mansion felt full, and I was not lonely.
The melody cut off as my fingers stilled. Kiara stood in the doorway with her arms crossed tight.
"I didn't know you played piano," she said.
"It's like your cooking," I admitted. "It makes me feel better."
"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," she said, joining me at the grand piano.
I stood up. "No, I'm the one who’s supposed to be saying that."
"How about if you play another song, I'll cook up the best salmon you've ever had," she suggested.
"Speaking of cooking," I said, sniffing the air. "Does it smell like something is burning?"
We rushed towards the kitchen, but Vincent Jeffry appeared to block our way. "Everything's fine, sir. Sorry if I disturbed you."
"Something is definitely burning," Kiara said.
Vincent Jeffry blocked us both and shook his head. "The fire is out now. Everything is fine."
"What's going on, Vinny?" I asked.
My housekeeper’s inscrutable face slipped and a look of despair washed over him. "I've burned dinner. Not just some of it, but all of it."
Vincent Jeffry let us in the smoky kitchen as he continued. "The potatoes boiled over and singed the stovetop. The roast is completely blackened, as are the carrots. Pot roast and mashed potatoes. It was going to be a simple, but decent meal for you and Ms. Davies."
"Oh, Vinny," Kiara said, giving him a hug. "I would have cooked. We were just talking about how I love to cook. I find it comforting."
"Couldn't you find a new chef, old man?" I asked.
Vincent Jeffry composed himself. "I was unable to find a decent replacement, though I have hope that someone will respond by tomorrow night. I will not let this hang up any of your weekend plans, sir."
"Don't worry about any weekend plans, Vinny. Just air the place out and let Kiara have a little fun."
Kiara was already throwing out the charred roast and cleaning up. While she went to the back pantry to get cleaning supplies, Vincent Jeffry grabbed my sleeve and dragged me out into the hallway.
"Have you forgotten about the party, sir?" he asked.
My stomach dropped. "Whitney's whole garden party thing?" I groaned. "Oh my God. That's this weekend? Kiara will never stay with all that happening."
Vincent Jeffry flapped his hands to get my attention. "We are hosting fifty people with no chef, sir."
I clapped an arm around Vincent Jeffry and drew him back into the kitchen. "You, sir, have just given me a great idea."
Kiara came out of the back pantry and stopped when she saw my wide grin. "What now?"
"Sir, please-"
I cut off Vincent Jeffry. "You like cooking, right?" I asked Kiara.
"Yes."
"And, you are currently deciding on a new career path because your heart wasn't in law, right?"
She put the spray bottle and handful of cleaning cloths down. "You think I should consider being a cook?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of personal chef. The Brickman Estate is in desperate need of one. Can you stay the weekend so we don't starve?" I asked.
"Of course." Kiara laughed. Then she gave me a sly look. "I might even consider a few new outfits as payment."
"Done!"
#
I was still congratulating myself on the clever turn of events when Vincent Jeffry burst into my room the next morning.
"Whoa, what happened to your manners?" I asked.
He took one look at what I was wearing and rushed to my wardrobe. "It is a formal weekend, sir; you must have a suit coat on to greet the guests."
"The guests? It's not even ten o'clock yet," I objected.
His hands flapped as he tossed me a navy blazer, a light-blue shirt, and a pair of dun-colored pants. He then dove back into my wardrobe and came out with what looked like a silk scarf.
"What is that thing?" I asked, amused by the panic in his movements.
"A cravat, sir."
"Oh, no. I think I can draw the line there. Vinny, you gotta calm down," I said.
"The first guests will be arriving in ten minutes. Their driver just sent me a message," Vincent Jeffry said.
I took on some of his panic and tugged on the light blue shirt. "Really? This early?"
"A formal weekend, sir, starts with refreshments in the parlor followed by a luncheon. Is Ms. Davies out shopping?" Vincent Jeffry asked.
We both froze.
"I didn't tell her about the party." I unbuttoned the top button of my dress shirt, but still could not breathe. "She's going to hate me. She's going to head right out the back door."
"No," Vincent Jeffry howled. "I need her help. Put on that cravat and get to the front parlor."
I finished getting dressed with numb fingers. After two hopeless attempts making the cravat look like anything else but a bloated snake around my neck, I tossed it on the bed and headed downstairs. The full staff of Brickman Estate was present, including maids in uniform and footmen waiting to help the guests with luggage. People I only vaguely recognized waved as they crossed the foyer and followed the footmen to their guest suites.
I jogged down the grand staircase and made a beeline for the kitchen. Vincent Jeffry appeared as if by magic and spun me in the direction of the front parlor. "You already have guests waiting. Pour champagne, greet everyone, and don't say anything about food."
"Is Kiara all right?" I asked, trying to dodge around my determined housekeeper. "How mad is she? Please tell me she didn't leave."
He frowned. "She didn't leave, but she's not really speaking right now."
"I have to go see her. I have to tell her it completely slipped my mind." I sparred with Vincent Jeffry, but he was fast and surprisingly strong for such a lanky man.
"Ms. Barnes is waiting for you. She is quite anxious for you to join her in the front parlor."
My muscles went weak. "Whitney? Oh, God, I forgot she planned this whole thing to make me pantomime perfect couple with her. I can't do it, Vinny."
"You have to," he hissed and shoved me down the hall.
Whitney's face was bright with elegant cheer as I joined her in the front parlor. I ran on autopilot, which was probably why she didn't scold me under her breath. I poured champagne when she told me to, greeted everyone whose names she supplied for me, and moved around the room at her elbow—until we reached the back wall.
"And Teddy has a grand amusement planned for tonight, don't you, dear? Teddy?" Whitney called for me as I hurried along the servant's hallway.
She hadn't seen me slip into the hidden doorway and was quite flustered, but I heard her recover with a practiced laugh. "We must be out of champagne," she covered.
I had to see Kiara. That thought kept me from getting lost in the rabbit warren of servants’ hallways that ran behind the walls of every room. When I finally stumbled into the kitchen, I was surprised to see Kiara smile.
"Oh, thank God. I thought you might try to hit me with a meat cleaver or something," I said.
Kiara snorted. "I might. You could have given me a little more warning."
"I completely-"
She held up both hands and stopped me. "Vincent Jeffry already explained that you forgot about the party, and I believe him. It sounds exactly like something you would do."
"So, you're not mad?"
She shook her head and unloaded the groceries Vincent Jeffry had ordered from her list. "Actually, I think this could be really good for me. The more I think about it, the more I know that cooking is what I want to do. I don't have any fancy schooling or experience, but if I use this weekend to showcase what I can do, then I might be able to find my first job."
I took a deep breath and was surprised that I could do so. A weight was off my chest. I had to admit that most of it had to do with the smile on Kiara's face. I had been worried she might never smile at me again.
The rest of it was the sudden ease I felt. Standing with Kiara in the kitchen was the first moment in hours that I truly felt myself. The rest had been swallowed up in the social graces of Whitney's perfect weekend.
I started sweating. The one thing I thought best to keep to myself was Whitney's involvement. I was determined to keep Whitney away from the kitchen all weekend. I couldn't even imagine the choice words Whitney would have for me if she found out I had hired Kiara and she'd all but moved in.
Suddenly, I didn't have to imagine it. Whitney was there in the kitchen door with her normally pert mouth in a tight frown. "You brought her home like a stray dog?"
"Whitney, please. Kiara is helping us out of a jam. Chef Nolan was a disaster," I said. I wanted to cross my arms and shield Kiara from Whitney's cutting looks, but it was too late.
"Oh, Teddy, please. She thinks she can cook? I'm telling everyone that your one job this weekend was to plan the menu. I won't take any credit for this farce." Whitney spun and stalked out of the kitchen.
Kiara was pale, but a blaze burned in her eyes. "Like I said. This weekend will be a good test for me."
I knew that look. Kiara was ready to prove herself, and I knew she'd do great. The only thing I worried about was what Whitney would do to retaliate.
So much for a relaxing weekend, I thought.