before a towering wrought-iron gate. Beautiful and ornate, it depicted scrolls, gilded flowers and acanthus leaves. The iron barrier was set in massive stone posts, topped with elaborate wrought-iron lanterns.
Kalli noticed Pal turn and glance up to his left. She followed his gaze, but didn’t see anything at first. After a minute of puzzled scrutinizing, she spotted a small camera mounted unobtrusively in a niche on the pillar, nearly hidden by branches of a towering cedar.
After a short pause, the gate began to open to the accompaniment of a low mechanical hum.
Kalli was surprised Pal didn’t have to say anything. “Do they have eyeball prints of every employee, or something?”
He drove through the open gate without responding to her wisecrack.
She shifted to look back, and watched as the magnificent iron blockade made its ponderous return trek to block access to the Varos property.
“You were telling me something about disappointment, Miss Angelis?”
“Oh!” She jumped in surprise, something Pal seemed everlastingly good at making her do. She couldn’t recall reacting so powerful to any other man who merely initiated a conversation. What was it about Pal that could coax her to the brink of a conniption fit.
“Disappointment?” She shook her head, trying to refocus. The sight of the majestic gate had reminded her why she was here, and she experienced a surge of excitement about the project for the first time since—well, since the proposition of refurbishing the property had been made via Mr. Varos’s lawyers, when the marriage deal was being hammered out.
She swallowed, her throat dry. It was hard to believe she’d even considered such a daft idea as an arranged marriage. “Oh—right. Disappointment.”
She strained to see over the treetops, and thought she spied a spire here and a chimney there. She would see the house very soon. Her heartbeat sped up and she gave Pal a disgruntled peek. She would be rid of her disagreeable escort, too.
That knowledge made her bold.
“I’ll tell you about disappointment!” she said, allowing her resentment free access to her mouth. “Disappointment is being picked up at the airport by a big, grouchy bear. Disappointment is having to spend these past two, unending hours with a snarling sorehead. And real disappointment is discovering that same big, grouchy bear of a sorehead is Greek, a cruel, ugly blot on an otherwise wonderful people!”
Belligerent and full of vinegar, she leaned toward him, hopeful her aggressive slant would rattle him just a little. “That’s real disappointment, buster!” She flicked him hard on the arm. “That’s bottom-line disappointment—Pal!”
They headed around a bend and up an incline. Out of the corner of her eye, Kalli saw a flash of color that wasn’t part of the verdant landscape. She turned instinctively as the Varos mansion rose before her amid a paradise of blooming shrubs, flowers and the heavy perfume of wisteria.
She sucked in a breath, experiencing a warm, rosy feeling she could only describe as love-at-first-sight. The Victorian residence had a fairy-tale quality—a delicate castle, created from a romantic marriage of brick, stone and wood.
It was a three-storied cornucopia of Victorian elements, cleverly mingled from its gables, dormers and Palladian windows to the wraparound graystone veranda and lofty tower. The dwelling was unique and whimsical—a charming reflection of childhood fantasies and make-believe.
“Oh,” she cried, her passion for her work cresting and overflowing. “There’s so much—so much—” Her voice broke, so she waved a broad arch in the air, indicating its potential. The home was not merely plaster, board and stone to Kalli. It was a living, breathing entity—a being with a soul and character, who, over the years, had been wronged and degraded with regrettable paint choices and injurious additions.
To be given the chance to save such a treasure, to restore it to its original glory, would be a dream-come-true to anyone in her profession. Kalli gawked, overwhelmed that Mr. Varos would entrust such an undertaking into her care.
The mansion began to quiver before her eyes, then blurred. As the sports car pulled to a stop, she blinked, dislodging tears of gratitude.
“I gather the house is a real, bottom-line disappointment?”
Pal’s cynical remark coming so near her ear made her cry out. She jerked to glare at him. “You scared me!” She swiped at the tears with the back of her hand, not even slightly embarrassed that he’d seen her cry. Some things were simply worth crying over, and this superb mansion was one of them.
He shifted to lounge against the leather and draped an arm across the back of her seat. “I thought you knew I was here,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “I’m sorry.”
If she’d ever heard a you’re-a-pain-in-the-neck anti-apology, that was it. She bounced around, presenting her back to him and focusing on the house. Her hands trembling with anger, she busily straightened her suit jacket and finger-combed her hair.
“You really should be sorry, you know!” She spun back to glower at him. “And to answer your question, no. The house is not a disappointment. It’s wonderful. I’m deeply moved that Mr. Varos wants me to refurbish it. There’s such innate beauty, such graceful transcendency. With the right creative hand, the right artistic eye, Mr. Varos’s home could become a work of art.”
He lifted his chin, a clear indication his attention had moved in the direction of the house, somewhere behind and above her. She gave him a hard, offended look. Why was she bothering to explain? He wasn’t listening. Besides, this insensitive part-time-chauffeur-handyman-all-round-disagreeable-underling couldn’t possibly understand how aesthetics could stir the receptive spirit.
“Oh—never mind.” Shaking her head, she indicated the rear of the car. “If you’ll pop the trunk, I’ll get my bags. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
“I’ll get your bags, miss.”
This new male voice came from behind and slightly above her. She jerked around. A trim, white-haired man in black stood midway down the brick staircase that led to the arched entry. The servant wore white gloves and a reserved, yet welcoming, smile. Kalli heard a click as the car trunk popped open.
Without waiting for further evidence of permission to retrieve her bags, the man descended the steps and headed to the rear of the car. Kalli pushed open her door and got out, only partly in a desire to help with her bags. One unruly portion of her brain had an urge to turn and gaze just once more at—well, it was a stupid urge, and she fought it by leaping from the convertible.
As she shut the car door, another man emerged from the shadows of the wide, covered porch. This new arrival was tall and thin, wore a dark suit, green-and-navy striped tie, and carried a black leather briefcase. His long, pale face and receding hairline seemed familiar. Kalli paused to scrutinize him, digging into her memory. When his glance shifted to meet hers, he came to a dead stop, his eyes going wide. That was it! That startled doe look told her exactly were she’d seen him before. She gasped, wagging an accusing finger at him. “But you said you wouldn’t be here!”
She didn’t like the panic in her voice. She’d meant to sound stern, all business. She noticed her finger, still wagging in his direction. It looked so moronic, she dropped her hand to her side, struggling to keep her lower lip from trembling. She felt rotten about what she’d done to Mr. Varos, and she
