Chapter Twenty-Nine
Isla remembered to wait until Pete opened her door for her.
Brooke sauntered by casually, with Jackson not far behind.
He was always observing, and from Isla’s short experience, he was one of the few who could keep Brooke at bay.
They were walking out the front doors, watching them, and Isla glanced away, not wanting to give the woman any excuse to resent her more than she seemed to already, or to punish Pete, who Isla promised would not see the wrath of anyone.
She rather hoped he’d be her assigned driver if she were to have one.
Isla saw Holland waiting, waving and practically bouncing on the balls of her feet like a giddy little kid, still in her practice gear, with her fencing jacket open, revealing her white T-shirt underneath.
Isla was touched that someone was happy to see her.
The warm feeling turned cold when Brooke stepped up to join her daughter, her expression anything but welcoming.
Brooke stood erect, folding her arms across her chest. Her sharp eyes looked down on Isla from her perch above, every bit the madam of the house .
. . in control and very displeased. Her bloodred lips were set in a firm line as her perfectly manicured nails tap-tap-tapped impatiently against her elbow, like a ticking bomb counting down to boom.
She raked her eyes over Isla, not bothering to hide her disdain and suspicion.
When Holland realized it was her mother beside her, probably when she felt the frigid gust of wind suck the joy from her soul, Holland’s arm came down, and she wiped her face smooth.
She couldn’t play it cool entirely, because her body was still fidgeting nervously beside her mother, her eyes widening and darting between Isla and her mother when Isla joined them on the top step, her smile bright and polite, though her pulse quickened as she readied herself for whatever came next.
Brooke appraised her and found her subject sorely lacking. “Ah, the illustrious and lucky brand-spanking-new documentarian.” Her voice dripped with such condescension and contempt that Isla wondered exactly what she had done to warrant this type of behavior. “Welcome back to our humble home.”
Isla couldn’t restrain herself, scoffing at the understatement of the year. If this place was humble . . .
“You find me funny?” Brooke asked sharply.
Isla shook her head, clearing her throat and tapping the base of her neck as if something was caught in her throat.
“Never, Mrs. Corrigan.” She offered Holland a reassuring smile before the girl had a stroke.
“Thank you for the greeting. It’s a pleasure to be here.
” Isla refused to let the iciness get to her, at least on the surface, painting on such a wide smile, her cheeks strained from the effort.
“Let’s get you back to your room,” Holland cut in, reaching to grab Isla’s wrist and tugging at her to follow. Isla hesitated, sensing more was coming.
Brooke’s mouth twitched, and her light-hazel eyes held no warmth at all.
“Not so fast, honey.” She never broke eye contact with Isla, gearing herself up.
“Since my daughter seems to have a penchant for charity cases and my unpredictable and sometimes irrational husband has given you permission to create this absurd profile or whatever the hell you claim you’re going to do for this extremely important award that you better not screw up”—she took a quick breath, preparing herself for the rest of her delivery while Isla braced herself—“you’ll be well compensated for this work you actually volunteered to do.
And so those who are in our employ and will be on the premises reside in staff quarters. ”
Isla didn’t show the slight deflation of her body or the sigh of relief she eased out slowly. Was that all? Isla had seen the building where the staff lived when they were on duty rotation. Not even guest housing, though. Staff. This woman was a real nasty piece of work.
Holland gasped, her mouth dropping to her chin. She was appalled and embarrassed. “Mother, Isla’s a guest. What do you mean she’s staying in staff housing? You can’t put her there—she’s a guest.”
Brooke barely batted an eye. “She is not.” She finally looked at her daughter, her gaze softening slightly as she took her daughter in.
She shook her head as if she felt bad for her child, as if she weren’t the one causing the issue.
Then she returned to Isla, everything about her rehardening.
“We can’t make exceptions, even if what she does falls under Special Projects, and even if she helped you in a pinch.
And I hope, Isla, that mentioning how you helped out my daughter will be the last drop you will milk of that whole situation. That cow has dried up,” she said.
“Oh, but, Mrs. Corrigan,” Isla said, her voice sweet, innocent, and seemingly deferential, “I haven’t mentioned that at all.
It’s you who keeps bringing it up, and frankly I’m a little embarrassed by all your attention.
Oh, hey there! Are you part of the welcoming committee too?
Geez, you guys are really too much. I’m overwhelmed by the hospitality. ”
Brooke had been revving herself up, incensed by Isla’s audacity.
She pointed a finger at Isla, ready to fire back.
Maybe even kick Isla out and ban her for life, damn what Victor had instructed, but her retort was quickly swallowed when she realized there was now an audience of two, and Isla had addressed them.
Bennett and Myles were standing off in the corner and observing the exchange.
Bennett leaned casually against the stone railing, clearly entertained, as if he were watching a live performance.
Meanwhile, Myles was in what Isla deemed his own uniform of dress slacks, shirt, and vest, since it was the only way he seemed to wear his suits.
She wondered what he wore when he relaxed .
. . if he even knew the word relax. He watched them inscrutably, unreadable—she couldn’t tell whether he was enjoying the confrontation, like his younger, carefree brother, or if he, too, couldn’t tolerate her, like his stepmother.
Isla kept her composure, channeling the fake charm she’d perfected, if only to needle the woman.
Perhaps this was the best way to get Brooke to crack and find out how she might have played a part in Eden’s departure.
Because Isla had a feeling that Brooke had definitely had something to do with it.
Brooke was too nasty not to have wanted anyone who didn’t come from her out to clear the competition.
That was why Isla was in staff housing instead of in the main house.
To shame her. Put her in her place. To drive Isla out.
Of course this woman would think this an insult.
The staff housing looked better than many of the homes Isla had lived in.
But Brooke didn’t know who she was dealing with. Isla was ready for whatever this woman had to offer. Still, she toned down her enthusiasm to a manageable level. She wanted to come across carefree and awestruck.
Isla addressed Holland, who was stressed beyond words, making Isla feel immediately sorry for her behavior.
She’d have to make sure not to needle Brooke when Holland was around.
Holland couldn’t handle it. Holland reminded Isla very much of Eden, highly sensitive, and that drove Isla to squeeze her hand into a fist at her side from the guilt.
Holland and Eden would have been the best of sisters.
Isla said, “It makes perfect sense for me to be in staff housing.” She was interrupted when Bennett cursed in surprise.
The brothers had missed the part of the exchange that had gotten them all to this point.
Myles straightened, his hands still in his pockets.
But he was clearly upset and struggling with whether to say anything.
“I am here to work. I shouldn’t forget that.” She dropped her eyes, sneaking a tiny look through her lashes to gauge the room. Brooke seethed but held her tongue. Holland looked like she wanted to wrap Isla in a huge hug. Isla couldn’t see the brothers, but they were still watching.
“The accommodations you’ve put together for me will be more than enough while I do this.
And it’s farther out on the grounds, so I get to enjoy the property more as I walk around conducting my interviews.
” And launching my investigation, Isla thought.
“I even get to check out your solarium, Mrs. Corrigan. I hear it houses some of the most beautiful, exotic plants around.”
“And deadly.” Myles spoke up, surprising them all.
Isla agreed wholeheartedly. “Oh, definitely. Beautiful and deadly. I’m sure that’s why they’re flourishing so well under your care.”
Isla couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. It was like Myles served, whether he meant to or not, and she volleyed. She’d do better. Next time.
Holland gasped, eyes going wide again. The girl was going to need eye drops with all that eye widening she kept doing.
If Brooke’s expressions were any indication, she’d be shoving some of her deadly plants down Isla’s throat.
But she didn’t matter. Bennett emitted a low whistle and stifled a laugh, his face reading as impressed.
That could work for her. He signaled his approval, and, satisfied Isla could manage Brooke, he left as quickly as he’d materialized.
They were left with uncomfortable silence hanging over them like a rain cloud about to burst. Tense air crackled between them as Isla waited for Brooke to continue her pissing match.
Finally, Brooke plastered on a tight smile. It looked like it pained her to have to do it, and Isla wondered why she even bothered pretending politeness with Isla. Maybe it was a rich-lady thing.
“Well, I’m glad you’re . . . enthusiastic about the arrangements.”
Isla dipped her head graciously. “Absolutely, whatever makes it easiest for everyone. And I am very grateful, for what it’s worth.” Isla realized she meant that. Not because of Brooke but because it was really Holland’s kindness and Victor wanting to shake things up on his own terms.
Brooke nodded curtly before turning on her four-inch heel with the red sole. Even though she was shorter than Isla, Brooke still managed to look down her nose at her. Isla decided being this nasty was a talent. “Holland, please show Miss Thorne to staff housing. Make sure she gets settled, hmm?”
“I look forward to speaking with you more in depth later!” Isla called out as Brooke left them, reentering the house with Jackson in tow.
Holland threw Isla an apologetic glance before heading back down the steps with her to the waiting golf cart that would whisk them away to Isla’s new neck of the woods.