splendid idea, Miss Remington.”
Meredith gave her a questioning look. “What is it?”
“I’d like you to look around this place.... This used to be our home.”
Colette motioned for Meredith to follow her as they walked around the residence, looking through the three bedrooms and the dining room and kitchen area. The main room had been set up as an office, with two very large oak desks facing each other in front of the windows, as well as comfortable sofas near the fireplace.
“My family and I used to live up here above the bookshop,” Colette explained as they walked around.
“You lived up here?” Meredith asked, intrigued by the idea.
“Yes, my four younger sisters, my mother, father, and I all lived here. I admit that it was rather crowded at times! We girls used to help our father run the bookshop and then we took over when he passed away. Since then, we’ve done rather well. We now have two more bookshops in London, the Hamilton Sisters’ Book Shoppe and Mara’s Book Shoppe, and another Hamilton’s in Dublin. My sisters and I have all married and have homes of our own, so now we just use this space for our office. Well, actually, just Paulette and I do, on the occasions that we’re here working in the original shop. Our main offices are in the newer, grander building, The Hamilton Sisters’ Book Shoppe. But this place still pulls at my heart, because it was our home for my entire childhood.”
“It’s truly lovely.” Meredith glanced around, setting down her manuscript on a polished oak table.
“Thank you. I’ve just redecorated it recently. It was time for a fresh coat of paint and some new furnishings and curtains. It’s rather a lovely hideaway now.”
The private residence was decorated in serene shades of blue. Gleaming hardwood floors were covered with dark blue area rugs and the walls were the palest baby blue, trimmed with white molding and white wainscoting. Sheer white curtains adorned the windows, allowing in plenty of light. It was elegant and simple and inviting, devoid of any clutter.
A gilt-framed oil painting hung above the fireplace, depicting five beautiful young girls. They all smiled, looking happy and wearing pretty white dresses. They had to be the Hamilton sisters.
“Which one is you?” Meredith questioned, peering closely at the painting, trying to discern which one of the sisters would be Colette Hamilton. All five girls looked remarkably alike, with varying shades of hair and eye colors, yet with the same delicate facial features.
“I’m the one with my arm around the smallest girl, my sister Yvette. She’s the baby of the family. I’m the oldest of the lot. And the one with the dark hair is Juliette, the one in the middle is Lisette, and the other blonde is Paulette.” Colette beamed with pride. “I was probably eighteen when that was painted as a gift for our mother. This painting is actually a copy I had made, and my sisters each have one also. The original is in my drawing room at home.”
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