Chapter Five
“Do you have to be right here?” Ellie asked with a huff.
“Half the wiring to the second floor runs through this wall, so yeah, I do.” Under normal circumstances, Jack would respond with a simple yes, claim his space, and go about his business.
But nothing about being around Ellie was normal.
She bugged him, got under his skin. Not an entirely unusual phenomenon—his family didn’t call him a curmudgeon for nothing.
But when it came to Ellie, he couldn’t tell if she set him off because he didn’t like her, or because he did.
Ellie’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and had him worrying she could read his thoughts. “Do you have to do it right now?”
Technically, no. But shifting to another part of the house would mean upending the order of tasks he’d created for himself.
He didn’t like changing his plans under the best of circumstances.
Doing so to appease Ellie? Not a chance in hell.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure the homeowner would say safe and functioning electric is more pressing than making the walls pretty. ”
Suspicion gave way to disdain. To be fair, he’d managed to insult her in addition to getting in her way. “Have you even met the homeowner?”
He hadn’t. Honestly, he didn’t need to. He knew his scope of work, the timeline, and the budget. Pablo signed checks and proved competent enough to field any questions or snags he ran into along the way. He’d simply been making a point. He lifted his chin. “Have you?”
Something in her demeanor shifted. “No, and it’s driving me crazy.
I’m going to have to take some artistic license with some of these murals, and I’d really like her to weigh in on her preferences for color and tone.
I’ve never taken on a commission without understanding who the client was and what they wanted. ”
If he weren’t so busy proving his own point, he would have laughed at the vociferating. Not to make fun of Ellie, but because he finally got her. Or, rather, at least part of her. A shared passion for doing a job well and to the client’s specifications officially gave them one thing in common.
He was spared having to say as much when Pablo swept in. “Darlings, I just got a call from Bea. She’s on her way over to tour the progress so far.”
Jack did laugh then—at the cosmic timing but also because Ellie looked like she was trying to decide who punked her.
“For real?” she asked.
Pablo shrugged. “Apparently. She’s going to Montreal for the week and decided to take a detour.”
Ellie nodded, all eager enthusiasm now. “That’s great. I wanted to ask her a few things before I get too far into painting.”
“You didn’t want to ask me?” Pablo pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. Or at least Jack thought he was feigning.
Ellie put a hand on his arm in that easy confident way she had. “Of course I want your opinion. But art is so subjective. There’s no way of knowing that what I like or you like would be at all what Ms. Castleton likes.”
“That, my dear, is truth.” Pablo laughed and put his hand on top of Ellie’s.
Jack studied the gesture. With people like Logan and Clover in his life, it wasn’t foreign. Still. It struck him just how different some people were from, well, people like him.
For all that people liked to say opposites attract, he spent most of his life presuming the opposite.
Like the way Maddie and Sy butted heads at first but were two peas in a pod when it came down to it, and as a result perfect for each other.
Yet, people like Logan—gregarious almost to a fault—wound up in love with someone as reserved as Kathleen.
What did that say about him? And when had he started contemplating the laws of attraction and compatibility? He chuckled at the out of character rumination. Logan would have such a field day.
“Care to share, sir?” Pablo regarded him with a raised brow and amused expression.
“Just lost in my own thoughts.” He turned to Ellie. “You do your thing here. I’ll go up to the attic and work on stripping out the old wires there.”
If she didn’t trust the magnanimity of his offer, she didn’t let on. At least not out loud. “Thanks.”
Jack went for a curt nod, suddenly wanting nothing more than a moment to himself.
He started up the stairs, then realized he didn’t have the tools or the supplies for the job he’d just announced he was going to do.
He turned around and went back the way he’d come before getting into it with Ellie in the first place.
He gathered what he needed from his truck and was about to head in when a vintage Land Rover pulled into the small lot. Normally, he didn’t go for showy cars or obvious displays of money, but damn. She was a beaut.
When the woman behind the wheel got out, he had a similar experience—a bit showy for his tastes but damn. She was gorgeous. He hung back, not wanting to fling himself into a social situation unnecessarily, especially with someone he’d never met.
He busied himself with every intention of waiting until she’d gone in, but it was not meant to be. He made the mistake of looking up too soon. She homed in on him, made eye contact, and he was stuck. He lifted a hand and tried for a friendly smile. “Good morning.”
“And a very good morning to you.” She strode over with all the confidence of a woman who owned the place.
Jack froze. Did she own the place? Was this Beatrice Castleton? The eccentric heiress who’d bought Hampstead for who knew what reason and was bankrolling what had to be a several-million-dollar renovation? Context clues told him it must be, though he’d expected someone older, starchier.
“I’m Bea.” She extended a hand. “I’m the one with the bright idea to fix up this place.”
Jack shuffled the supplies he held to accept the handshake, surprised by its firmness and vigor.
With the proximity, he realized his initial assessment might have been off by a decade or so.
Threads of silver streaked through Bea’s hair and the lines around her eyes hinted at mid-forties rather than thirties. “I’m Jack, your electrician.”
“Delightful. How’s it going?”
He nodded, unsure whether she really wanted to know or if it was a rhetorical question. “It’s progressing. I’ve never seen so much knob and tube in my life.”
She quirked a brow. “I’m going to assume that’s old wiring lingo.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Yes. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I should probably know at least a little, right, as the person who bought it?”
He certainly thought so, but Maddie had trained him not to voice it to homeowners who had no interest in understanding the guts of their houses. “Just know that, by the time you move in, it will be fully upgraded, safe, and good to go for the next hundred years.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Despite the fact that Jack’s hands were full, she hooked her arm through his. “Walk me inside.”
He awkwardly set down his tools and the roll of wire he’d planned to take up to the attic, knowing better than to say no. “So, what inspired you to buy this place?” he asked, figuring that was a safe enough topic of conversation to get them through the door.
“Oh, just your standard midlife crisis.”
She’d said it casually, but Jack had the feeling he’d stepped on a landmine. “In a good way, I hope,” he added, not sure how else to cover his tracks.
“Absolutely. My parents died, and I inherited a company I didn’t really want to run. I decided to sell and be that weird lesbian who lives in a big house in the middle of nowhere, entertaining my equally weird friends and pretending the real world doesn’t exist.”
Jack scrambled for an appropriate response. It sounded sort of ideal—especially the part about hiding away from the real world. And yet everything about it sat so wholly outside his lived experience, he wasn’t sure he should pretend to relate. He settled on, “That’s quite a plan.”
When they got to the back door, Bea released his arm and stepped to the side, clearly waiting for him to open it for her. He did, and she gave him a slow once-over and a knowing smile. “Perhaps you can be one of those friends.”
She swept past him and into the house, not waiting for a reply.
Pablo was waiting for her, and effusive greetings and hugs ensued.
Jack stood in the doorway for a moment, not sure if he should follow or if he’d been dismissed.
When Pablo gestured in the direction of the foyer, she headed that way without a backward glance.
It was enough of an answer for him. Unfortunately, Pablo caught his eye and waved him in.
Jack sighed and spared a longing glance at the supplies he’d set down.
They wouldn’t take a walk in his absence, but at the rate he was going, he was going to spend more of his day making trips back and forth than getting anything done.
* * *
Ellie heard Bea before she saw her. She had a loud laugh and the kind of voice that came with being the center of attention. Ellie hovered in the foyer while Pablo rounded up the rest of the crew and made introductions. She reminded herself not to be intimidated.
Bea turned out to be charming and enthusiastic, if a little extra. Well, extra in the attention she showered on Jack. It wasn’t even remotely subtle and left her struggling to keep a straight face. It did make her a hell of a lot less intimidating.
Pablo dismissed everyone back to their work so he and Bea could do a walkthrough of the house.
Despite her vague discomfort, Ellie asked if she might beg a few minutes to go over some stylistic decisions that would affect the final look and feel of the downstairs murals.
Bea agreed, and Pablo disappeared into the study to make a call.
Ellie did her best to explain the options in laymen’s terms. Bea listened—intently for about a minute and then impatiently for another thirty seconds—before making a face.
“Am I overwhelming you?” Ellie asked.
Bea laughed. “Maybe.”
“I just want you to be satisfied with the result.” She resisted saying pleased, but barely.