“I love thinking about how people lived a few generations back. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that people would go and shoot game for their dinner! The Victorians in particular fascinate me.”
“Victorians…” Lacey repeated. “Shooting.” She clicked her fingers. “I have an idea!”
Something about Suzy’s wide-eyed enthusiasm had made the dusty cogs in the abandoned part of Lacey’s interior designer mind grind back to life. She led Suzy into the auction room and along the corridor toward the office.
Suzy watched on with intrigue as Lacey opened up the safe and pulled out the wooden case containing the flintlock rifle, before clicking open the latches, raising the lid, and carefully removing the antique weapon.
Suzy drew in a sharp breath.
“Inspiration for your B&B,” Lacey said. “Victorian hunting lodge.”
“I…” Suzy stammered. “It’s…”
Lacey couldn’t tell if she was appalled or astonished.
“I love it!” Suzy gushed. “It’s a brilliant idea! I can just see it now. Blue tartan. Velvet. Corduroy. An open fire. Wood panels.” Her eyes had gone round with wonder.
“And that’s called inspiration,” Lacey told her.
“How much is it?” Suzy asked eagerly.
Lacey faltered. She had not been intending to sell the gift from Xavier. She’d just meant for it to be a creative springboard.
“It’s not for sale,” she said.
Suzy’s bottom lip stuck out in disappointment.
Lacey then recalled Gina’s accusations over Xavier. If Gina thought the rifle was too much, then what would Tom think when he found out? Maybe it would be better if she did just sell it to Suzy.
“…Yet,” Lacey added, making a snap decision. “I’m waiting on some paperwork.”
Suzy’s face lit up. “So I can reserve it?”
“You can indeed,” Lacey said, returning the smile.
“And you?” Suzy asked, with a giggle. “Can I reserve you, too? As the interior designer? Please!”
Lacey hesitated. She didn’t do interior design anymore. She’d left that part of her back in New York City with Saskia. Her focus was on buying and selling antiques, learning how to auction them and building her business. She didn’t have time to work for Suzy and run her own store. Sure, she could put Gina in charge, but with the increased tourist trade, leaving her to man the shop alone seemed a little unwise.
“I’m not sure,” Lacey said. “I have a lot on my plate here.”
Suzy touched her arm apologetically. “Of course. I understand. How about you just come by and check the place out tomorrow? See whether you’d like to take on the project once you’ve got a better feel for it?”
Lacey found herself nodding. After everything that had happened with Brooke, she thought she’d be more wary of letting new people in. But maybe she’d be able to heal from that whole ordeal after all. Suzy had one of those infectious personalities that was easy to get swept along by. She’d make an excellent businesswoman.
Maybe Carol was right to worry.
“I guess there’s no harm in taking a look, is there?” Lacey said.
This time next week, when Lacey was looking back on this moment with Suzy with hindsight, the idiom famous last words would spring to mind.
CHAPTER THREE
Lacey drove along the seafront in her champagne-colored Volvo, windows cranked, a gentle midday sun warming her. She was on her way to the former retirement home, soon to be Wilfordshire’s newest B&B, with a surprise for Suzy in her passenger seat. Not Chester—her trusty companion had been far too content snoring in a sunbeam to be disturbed, and besides, Lacey was pretty certain Suzy was scared of dogs—but the flintlock rifle.
Lacey wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing by parting with it. When she’d held the rifle, it felt like it belonged to her, as if the universe was telling her she was supposed to take care of it. But Gina had planted a worm in her ear over Xavier and his intentions and she just couldn’t see through the clouds.
“I guess it’s too late now,” Lacey said with a sigh. She’d already promised to sell it to Suzy, and it would look very unprofessional to back out of the sale now because of nothing more than a funny feeling!
Just then, Lacey passed Brooke’s old tearoom. It was all boarded up. The refurbishment she’d done in transforming the old canoe shed into a swanky eatery had all gone to waste.
Thinking of Brooke made Lacey feel on edge, which was really the last thing she needed to add to the disquiet she already felt about parting ways with the rifle.
She pressed her pedal to the ground, speeding up in the hope she could leave those horrible feelings behind her.
Soon, Lacey reached the east side of town, the less populated area untouched by the sprawl of stores that spread from north to south and west to center, the area that, according to Carol, Mayor Fletcher was going to change for the worse.
Just then, Lacey saw the turning that led to the former Sunrise Retirement Home, and took a left turn onto it. The bumpy road sloped upward, and was lined with beech trees so tall they formed a tunnel that cut out the sunlight.
“That’s not ominous at all…” Lacey said sarcastically. “Not in the slightest.”
Luckily, the trees soon thinned out, and daylight reached her once more.
Lacey got her first glimpse of the house nestled into the hillsides. Her interior designer’s mind switched immediately into gear as she assessed the exterior. It was a fairly modern-looking, red-brick, three-story mansion. She guessed it was a 1930s property that had been modernized over the years. The driveway and parking area were made of gray concrete—functional but unsightly. The windows of the manor had thick, plastic white frames—good for keeping out burglars, but a terrible eyesore. It would take more than a few strategically placed shrubs to make the exterior look like a Victorian hunting lodge.
Not that that was Lacey’s problem to solve. She’d not made any decisions yet regarding Suzy’s offer. She’d wanted to ask Tom for his advice, but he was working late fulfilling a last-minute order of rainbow-frosted cupcakes for the local YMCA’s annual summer extravaganza. She’d also put a message on the thread she shared with her mom and younger sister, and had received a “Don’t work too hard” response from the former, and an “if she’s paying good $$$ then go for it” from the latter.
Lacey parked her car in the concrete parking lot, then headed up the steps that ran alongside a large, unsightly wheelchair ramp. The disabled access to the property—and presumably, within it—would be a huge plus. Neither Carol’s B&B nor the Coach House Inn were suitable for guests with disabilities, neither having external access from the cobbled streets, and having narrow internal stairs with no elevator inside.
At the top of the steps, Lacey reached a large glass conservatory-style porch. It was so ’90s it reminded her of a leisure center.
The
