Chapter 49 Charlotte
Charlotte
Cole followed me into the kitchen. Sunlight streaked my half-finished mural on the wall. I’d filled the lounge with Hadrian’s Villa and this room was going to be a sunset over the rooftops of Rome.
Cole stood completely still, awe rippling over his expression. “This is incredible.”
My face felt warm, but I shrugged. “I thought I may as well. It’s going to get painted over, anyway.”
“No. Seriously, I mean it. It’s amazing.” He traced a finger lightly over the brushstrokes. His voice was soft. “You brought Rome to Ecclesdale.”
“I’m thinking of doing some frescoes in the hallway. I just need plaster.”
He nodded as though it wasn’t an absurd suggestion. “Then we’ll get you plaster.”
The air was thick with the smell of paint.
Heat crept up my neck as I caught a glimpse of myself in the kitchen window.
Paint caked my overalls and streaked my face and hair.
What must he have thought? Not that it mattered.
I hadn’t invited him here. He’d just turned up on my doorstep. He seemed to be making a habit of that.
Cole smiled in invitation and lifted his mop. “Are you going to put me to work?”
He couldn’t be serious, could he? What did it matter to me? He’d probably get bored after a couple of hours and give up. I passed him a bucket and a bottle of disinfectant. “The cupboards need to be emptied and scrubbed inside. How have you got time for this? Don’t you have a huge empire to run?”
He took the equipment from me. “I’m taking a sabbatical.”
“For how long?”
“For as long as it takes to get this house in order.”
“You can cope with missing work?”
His eyes locked with mine. “I can cope. You just carry on painting. Let me handle everything else.”
“You don’t have to do this. You’ve got better things to do.”
He moved to the sink and filled the bucket with soapy water. “This is the only place I want to be. I cared about Roy, too. If I can help, then I want to.” He transferred the bucket to the floor and knelt down by one of the cupboards. “I’ll make a start. We’ll get it done.”
“You really don’t have to.”
He smiled, small and genuine. “I know. I want to. Let me help you, Charlotte. That’s all I want to do.”
“Thank you.” I met his eyes for the first time since he’d turned up on the drive. “I appreciate the help.”
I took the last of the bubble-wrapped heavy octagonal plates and put them in the box destined for the charity shop. We’d never even eaten from these. Dad had kept all the fancy stuff on the top shelves, and we’d forgotten about it.
“Christmas stuff?” Cole presented a faded tin full of Christmas-tree-shaped cookie cutters and little snowman cake toppers.
“Keep,” I said.
He smiled. “I remember Tiff’s Christmas cakes. I’ve never had better.”
“I’m sure she’ll give you the recipe.”
“Great. I’ll have to give it to Marco.”
He put the tin in the box to go into storage and glanced at the clock. “I’m going to take these boxes before the charity shop closes.” He gestured to the fridge. “Make sure you eat one of Marco’s meals. There are a couple of risottos.”
The first thing Cole had done when he arrived was unload a host of Tupperware boxes from a cooler bag into the fridge.
“Thanks.”
He scanned the kitchen and dusted his hands together. “We’ve made a great start.”
I dumped my brush into a jar of turpentine. “You’re tidying up. I’m just making a mess.”
His eyes landed on the outline of the Colosseum that I’d added to the mural. “It’s not a mess. It’s important.”
“It is.” I couldn’t quite articulate why, but I knew it was.
I needed to do it. Warmth radiated in my chest. It felt so much less overwhelming when I didn’t have to be in this house alone.
He loaded his powerful arms full of boxes, and I tried not to gawk.
Cole always looked gorgeous in his smart suits, but his handyman getup was like a fantasy made real.
Part of me wanted to ask him to stay for dinner, but I bit the words back.
That was too familiar. Maybe one day we could do that in a friendly way.
But not at the moment. The feelings were too raw.
I had to treat this like a professional cleanup operation.
He hitched an eyebrow. “Same time again tomorrow?”
“You really don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” His voice was gentle. “But I want to. Goodbye, Charlotte. Have a good night.”