Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
Malcolm had a hell of a time falling sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about how soft and warm and wonderfully curvy Josie looked in her pajamas. A gentleman wouldn’t have noticed she had nothing on underneath. As much as his mother had tried to raise him to be a gentleman, she’d failed on that front. He’d been unable to not notice. He had only broken up with his girlfriend an hour before, and yet, he found himself consumed with thoughts of Josie. The sound of her laughter. The way her smile lit up her face. The smell of her faint vanilla scent whenever he got close enough.
And the emotion in her eyes when she listened to him tell her about his father’s difficult past, and also when he apologized to her for treating her so badly in high school. Normally, he would pull out his laptop and phone and deal with some business matters before bed. He couldn’t think of the last time he hadn’t checked in on work before going to sleep. But he didn’t feel like it tonight. He’d liked sitting up on the rooftop deck of his boat, staring up at the stars, listening to the owls hoot. He hadn’t done that in a long time. If he wasn’t working, he was going to some fancy gala or fundraiser, or sitting in the most expensive seats at a must-see show, or attending a new restaurant opening.
He rarely spent an evening relaxing, even with his family. More and more over the years, he’d taken to working every spare moment, his commitments leaving less and less time to enjoy life. Sure, he still got out for a hard run along the Thames most days, and he lifted weights three times a week, but those were things he did for maintenance. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played football or rugby, games he used to love. No time. He exercised to stay fit, the way he ate because he was hungry and not because he really enjoyed the food he put in his mouth.
Though he’d thoroughly enjoyed the toasted cheese sandwich tonight, even more than the perfectly cooked high-priced steak. Josie was not only beautiful and cheerful, she could also make a mean midnight snack. He couldn’t imagine any of his exes cooking, especially not something laden with cheese and butter and carbohydrates. Which said a great deal about his taste in women, he realized. Josie was refreshing.
He felt a huge weight lifted now that he’d finally done what he should have done fifteen years ago. He’d apologized to a young woman he’d hurt badly. She’d tried to pretend his behavior hadn’t affected her much, but he’d seen the deep hurt in her pretty hazel eyes. He imagined a cocky young man treating one of his sisters that way, and he knew he’d want to take the blighter apart. Still, he’d finally apologized, and now, perhaps, they could move on.
And maybe he could stop thinking about kissing her again.
She’d given him a book. When was the last time someone had given him a gift for no particular reason? It wasn’t his birthday or Christmas. She’d offered him a book she believed might help him. Was he so much of a workaholic that a woman who helped people work through their issues thought he needed her help?
He’d flipped through Walden and been struck by this line: Let us first be as simple and well as nature.
Had Malcolm been so caught up in business that he’d missed out on the finest things in life? The simplest?
Again, he thought about how much he’d enjoyed sitting out on the roof deck with Josie, enjoying the night. It didn’t get much simpler than that. Or more pleasurable.
Finally, he drifted off, waking a handful of hours later to birds chirping outside and light pouring in through the window of the houseboat’s second bedroom, which he’d never slept in before. The quality of light on the river was totally different from the light in the city. It was no wonder that so many painters had been inspired by this stretch of the river.
He stretched and then realized he could smell freshly brewed coffee. Josie is here.
The thought filled him with warmth. It was nice knowing she was close by, somehow. Usually, he couldn’t wait to be left alone in his own flat, where he could focus on his computers and his phone calls. But he felt quite the opposite this morning.
He dug through the clothes he kept on the boat and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, padding out on bare feet. “Good morning.”
She wasn’t wearing her pajamas anymore, unfortunately, but she still looked great in black trousers that floated around her legs and cinched at the waist, and a white fitted top. “Good morning. I wasn’t sure if you preferred coffee or tea, but I brewed some coffee. I can make you tea, though, if you want.”
“Coffee’s better than okay. I may never let you leave.”
Her face flushed, and she ducked her head out of his line of vision as she poured them two cups. “Milk or sugar?”
“Both.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I was sure you were going to say you take it black.”
He smiled at her. “I’ve always had a weakness for sweet things.”
His flirting was clearly making her uncomfortable, based on that nervous laugh she gave and the fact that when she poured the milk, some of it sloshed over the edge. “I’m not sure who stocked the fridge, but thank you if it was you. I had granola for breakfast, but there’s plenty more and fruit in the bowl.” She babbled on, and he sort of enjoyed knowing he was the cause of her discomfort. “Mari and I are going to look at the space she’s found for the reading retreats today. She should be here soon.”
“That sounds interesting.”
They sipped, and he discovered she made a mean cup of coffee.
There was a knock on the door. “That must be Mari,” Josie said with what seemed like relief as she went to open it. Sure enough, Mari stood there looking full of energy.
“Hi, I hope I’m not too early.”
Josie smiled. “No, this is perfect timing.”
The two women hugged, obviously already friends even though Josie had only arrived yesterday.
Then Mari caught sight of him and faltered. “Oh… Malc… what are you doing here?”
He got up and gave the woman he was sure was soon to be his sister-in-law a hug. “It’s a bit of a long story, but suffice it to say I couldn’t stay in my flat last night, and Josie was kind enough to let me crash here.”
Mari’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Couldn’t you have stayed at Mathilda’s? Or in Owen’s cottage?”
He could have stayed at a number of places, including any of the top hotels in London, but something had pulled him here to the island. He hadn’t even planned to stay on the houseboat, had simply come by to get some spare clothes.
“That was the plan, but then one thing led to another, and I ended up here.”
“It was no big deal,” Josie clarified. “We shared grilled cheese sandwiches on the rooftop deck, and then we both hit the sack. It’s really handy that there are two bedrooms.” She couldn’t have been more clear about the state of their relationship unless she had said, Don’t worry, I didn’t sleep with him.
“Okay then, but aren’t you supposed to be at work, Malcolm?” Mari asked, still clearly trying to piece things together.
“I was supposed to be heading to Thailand on vacation today, but things ended with Katrina, so I won’t be going with her and her new lover.”
Mari’s eyes got big. “New lover? When did you guys break up?”
“Around nine last night.” Before Mari could ask, he said, “It’s for the best for everyone. In fact,” he added suddenly, “since I’m free, if you don’t mind, I’d like to tag along and see the space that you’re planning to use for the reading retreats.”
Mari looked at Josie. “Would that be all right with you?”
Josie paused ever so slightly before nodding. “Sure, that’d be great.”
Mari shot him a look. “Okay, then. Can you be ready to leave in ten minutes?”
He picked up his mug and headed into the back. “I’ll take a quick shower and be right out.”
He found himself whistling in the shower as he lathered up. It was funny how much he was looking forward to checking out the retreat locations with the two women. He wasn’t normally anywhere near this cheerful before heading into the office. In fact, it was interesting that he had no urge whatsoever to even check his email. If he had gone to Thailand, he would have worked during the entire trip there, during the bulk of the time in Thailand, and during the entire trip back. But here he was, with no plans, just letting work slide. In fact, between Genevieve and Mabel and the rest of the staff, they could handle most of the work for the next couple of weeks. Unless there was a clear emergency, he’d let the staff he paid so well do their jobs.
Ten minutes later, after Malcolm grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl for breakfast, they were headed out along the towpath toward the center of the island.
* * *
“Pemberton House was once the hub of the island,” Malcolm explained. “It’s a sad story, but it was owned for hundreds of years by the Pemberton family. By tradition, the eldest son was always named Vincent. In the late 1930s, a young and dashing Vincent Pemberton met and married the love of his life. There are pictures in the local archives of the wedding and the parties they used to throw. They had a child, a son, naturally named Vincent. Then war broke out.”
Josie was getting a bad feeling about where this story was going. Malcolm had a real gift as a storyteller, and Josie felt herself becoming invested in these people who’d lived here long ago.
“Vincent joined the Royal Air Force and tragically, was killed defending his country. After his plane went down, his widow was distraught, as you can imagine. After the war, she took young Vincent to America, to Chicago I believe, where she had friends. Anyway, she met an American, married him, and never came back.”
“But how sad to leave this beautiful house.”
Mari and Josie gazed at the empty manor house that seemed bereft without a family to call it home. “I can imagine leaving here and never coming back if anything happened to Owen,” Mari said.
Malcolm continued, “There’s a firm of lawyers who’ve looked after Pemberton House and outbuildings ever since. At some point, the family agreed to open the grounds to the public, but otherwise it’s been left empty.”
Mari took up the tale. “When I read about you, Josie, and got the idea to hold a reading retreat here, I immediately thought of the cottages. It was Malcolm who made it happen.”
Josie felt her interest perk up even more. “Really? What did Malcolm do?”
“Very little,” Malcolm said.
But Mari just smiled at him. “He knows one of the top lawyers in the firm. You’ll find Malcolm knows a lot of influential people in London. Anyway, he persuaded them to get in touch with the owner of Pemberton House and see if I could rent the cottages. To my absolute delight, they agreed, and the rent is affordable. I got the feeling it was more of a favor than anything.”
“But that’s wonderful.” Josie was still staring at the manor house. “But who could own such an amazing house and not want to live in it?”
Malcolm replied, “Not everyone wants to live in a historic home with old plumbing and creaky floors and windows that let in the rain.”
“Then maybe they should sell the property to someone who would want to.”
“I imagine they will at some point, if no one in the family ever comes back,” Malcolm said.
They resumed walking, and behind the big house was a row of adorable cottages.
Mari said, “I was also able to rent the garden space, in addition to the cottages, for the reading retreats. So we’ll be looking at all of that today, and I’m really hoping you can transform the cottages into a really wonderful space for people to come and get away from it all with a book.”
“A manor house—it’s so thrilling.” Josie smiled at Malcolm. “We Americans, we’re wowed by stuff like this.”
“We Brits are pretty thrilled by it too,” Malcolm said, then turned to Mari. “I don’t believe the cottages have been occupied in decades. Have you been inside?”
“I have,” Mari said, “and there is definitely a reason why I’m able to afford the lease. They are in worse shape than Elderflower Island Books was when I took it over, but not too much worse. I took them as is so I could lease them quickly and at a good rate. They need a thorough clean and some cosmetic stuff that I’m sure we can deal with, mostly a scrub and some paint. Fiona’s got a friend who’s a home stager, and she’s organized couches and chairs and tables that we can rent. If it’s successful, I’ll invest in permanent furniture, but for now, I just want to see if they work.”
Malcolm had a feeling he’d be swapping his Brioni suits and laptop for coveralls and a paintbrush in the near future. Oddly, the idea didn’t put him off at all. In fact, he was excited by the prospect. He’d spent so much of his life in a suit, chasing investors, organizing deals, sitting in boardrooms, that he craved physical labor.
Mari continued, “I love the idea of the reading retreats taking place on the grounds of Pemberton House. It’s so romantic. Plus, it’s so close to the bookshop.”
It sounded like Mari had her heart set on these buildings, so between him and his brother and the rest of his family, they’d do whatever it took to make the project work for her. They’d already helped her turn the dilapidated bookshop around after her father died, so it seemed natural for the family to pitch in and fix up some outbuildings.
“I’m sure it will all be great,” Josie said, positive as always.
Mari smiled gratefully at her, obviously appreciating the boost of enthusiasm. “Here we are,” she announced as they reached the string of attached cottages.
Josie exclaimed, “These are amazing!”
He tried to see them through her eyes and could see the charm. Though on a much smaller scale, the cottages matched the Pemberton House with its exterior of old gray stone, soaring roof, and big windows. The manor had clearly been built by someone who understood proportion and grandeur. The cottages were more intimate, probably built for the staff, but featuring the same gray stone, pretty windows, and slate roofs.
Mari got out a large black iron key that looked like it must be original, and opened the main door.
As she pushed it open, she invited the others inside. Josie gasped again, but this time it wasn’t a good, happy gasp. It was a horrified one.
“I know,” Mari said. “It looks pretty bad, but I think after a good cleaning, it will be so much better.”
Malcolm suspected it wasn’t going to be as simple as giving the place a good once-over with a broom and a sponge. It seemed as though this cottage, and probably the others, had become the junk rooms for the manor house. Broken furniture, bits of china, and even a carriage wheel crowded the space. Everything was filthy, and the place smelled dank. He bet there were mice in the cupboards and bats in the attic.
“I think you’re going to need to do a little more than just cleaning,” he said in as gentle a voice as he could. “Let’s see the rest of the place, and then we can assess the situation.”
“I’ll definitely need to get rid of the junk,” Mari admitted, “but I think some of it might be salvageable.”
Josie went to a window and wrestled it open, letting in light and air, which helped. A bit.
Malcolm kept his comments to himself as they toured the space. There was a lot of work to be done, and if Mari owned the buildings instead of leasing them, he’d want to do some renovations. Mari looked more and more worried as they made their way through the other cottages. It wasn’t the materials that would cost so much. A good scrub and some paint would do wonders. It was the labor. If Mari wanted to hold a reading retreat next week, she’d need labor, and plenty of it. Malcolm knew where the labor would be coming from.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll all help you with this. I know my way around a tool belt and paintbrush, and I find myself with a free week on my hands.” His thoughts flicked briefly to Thailand. Beaches, jungles, sunsets, fine hotels. And oddly, he realized he’d rather be here painting walls so that Josie and Mari could host a reading retreat than holidaying in style with Katrina.
Mari smiled at him gratefully, then shook her head. “You work all the time as it is. I can’t ask you to help me clean up these cottages.”
“Honestly, it’ll be a fun project.” He found himself looking forward to something that didn’t involve a computer, or a meeting over drinks, or a flight to another country. “It really would be my pleasure to help you, Mari.” And an excuse to spend more time close to Josie , said a voice in the back of his head.
“Of course, I’m happy to help too,” Josie said. “The house I grew up in was an old Victorian that always needed work.” She flexed her hands. “I’m pretty handy.”
“You’re so sweet to offer,” Mari said, “but that’s not what you came here to do. I want you to choose the books and lead the retreat. You didn’t come here to paint walls and take broken tables to the dump.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and appeared troubled. “I let my enthusiasm get away from me. I can’t imagine we’ll be ready to host a reading retreat before you have to fly home.”
Josie looked at Malcolm with a silent but clear question in her eyes . If we work on these cottages, can we get this off the ground for Mari?
He gave her a tiny nod, and she turned back to Mari with a smile. “Actually, I think this makes the project even more exciting. I’ve never been quite this much on the ground floor of a project before. Heck, it’ll be like the heroine of a great story who finds herself in a foreign land, helping to bring a historic property back to life.”
Mari laughed. “You mean a gothic castle. Well, if both of you are sure—”
“I am,” both Josie and Malcolm said at the same time.
Just then, Mari’s phone rang—the ringtone the chorus of a Beatles love song. She blushed. “That’s Owen. Do you mind if I take it?”
“Go ahead,” Josie said.
“Hi, Owen. What’s up?”
Malcolm watched Mari’s eyes light up. He’d seen a huge change in his brother ever since he and Mari had started dating. Where Owen had been too serious for many years, Mari seemed to have lightened his whole personality. And it was obvious that his brother had done the same for Mari, given how devastated she’d been by the death of her father.
Mari went to the corner of the room and spoke softly while Malcolm moved closer to the walls to see how much needed doing before they were ready to paint.
Josie turned slowly in a circle as though she were on a stage about to deliver a soliloquy.
When Mari ended the call, her eyes were huge. “You’ll never guess what Owen just told me! The London Bookseller wrote an amazing piece about the bookshop and our Mathilda Westcott connection. It’s the entire front page of the mystery section. I had no idea anybody was even thinking of doing a piece about it. He’s sending me a copy, but he says Mathilda was interviewed and raved about the shop, especially the re-creation of the living room where her fictional sleuth works. I can’t believe she didn’t mention the interview.”
“She wanted to surprise you,” Malcolm guessed.
“Congratulations,” Josie said. “That’s fantastic news.”
“It really is. Your shop is going to become even more popular in the very near future,” Malcolm said.
“I don’t know. Does an article in the paper make that much of a difference?” Mari asked.
Before Malcolm could respond, her phone rang again. This time, it was her shop assistant, Grace Whitmore, calling. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out what was being said, and Mari confirmed it when she hung up. “Grace says there’s a line outside the shop already, even before we opened.” She sighed. “Seems Mathilda decided to announce an impromptu book signing. I guess that article really did make a difference.” She glanced at them both. “I really need to get back to the shop. It’s too much for Grace to handle on her own.”
“We’ve got this, Mari,” Malcolm told her. “Go back to the store and sell books to all those customers.”
Mari looked at Josie. “Is that okay with you? I didn’t intend to leave you all by yourself on your first day here.”
“Absolutely, you should go back to the shop. And don’t worry, I’m not alone. Malcolm’s going to stay to help, remember?”
Mari put her hands to her cheeks. “Yes, sorry. I’m just feeling sort of flustered by this news.” She gave them both a hug and then hurried off in the direction of the shop.
“Looks like we’d better get these cottages fixed up quick. Now that the bookstore is suddenly so famous, the reading retreats are sure to become extremely popular too,” Malcolm said.
Josie nodded. “I agree. I think Mari’s absolutely wonderful, and I want to help her any way I can. Should we just begin a thorough inventory of the cottages and everything in them? And then we can compare notes and work out what needs to be done?”
He nodded. “That was precisely what I was going to suggest.”
She gave him another one of those sunny smiles, and though it made his heartbeat pick up, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He’d always been brilliant at focusing, no matter the distractions. But he’d never known anyone quite like Josie. And though he would never call her a distraction, it was certainly true that he hadn’t been able to completely focus since he’d picked her up at the airport. She was always somewhere in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. Thinking of her in a way that he had never thought about another woman. He was attracted to her—frankly, more attracted to her than he could remember being to anyone else. But it was more than that.
He also truly liked being around her. He was interested in what she had to say. And he was interested in her story and how she’d come to be who she was today. He found himself wondering what had shaped her. What did she love? What was she afraid of? What had her childhood been like?
All questions that, honestly, he’d never really had about any of the women who had come before her.