in defiance.
Interesting. A few hours ago she’d been begging for it.
Mel laughed again. “You two don’t need me to figure that out. Just don’t overdo it after this morning. Got it?” That last question was for him.
“Got it.” Satisfied, she left them alone.
Amanda looked a little shell-shocked, and he wanted to give her time to absorb her new job. But her silence dragged on so long he started having doubts. He flipped through the sketchbook again.
“Are you suggesting painting the wrought-iron chandeliers orange? That’s not a pop of color, it’s… I don’t know…an explosion?”
“It’s not orange, it’s paprika.” She sounded prim and defensive. “It’s a spice color. It brings a touch of fun and whimsy to the space. This should be a home where you feel free to kick off your shoes and relax without feeling guilty about it.”
“I doubt fun and whimsical are words people normally associate with me.”
“So surprise them.”
He looked back at the drawings. “You’ve surprised me. Are you taking the job?”
She hesitated. “Don’t hire me out of pity, Blake. I don’t want your charity.”
He gave her a steely glare that usually had his employees quaking in their shoes. She blinked, but didn’t look away when he spoke. “I run a billion-dollar business. I don’t make decisions based on pity. You’re a designer out of work. I’m looking to hire a designer. Do you want the job or not?”
Her willingness to walk away from a job she needed and obviously wanted surprised him. Finally she sighed and pushed her plate away. “Let’s take another look together and discuss it.”
“I promised Mel we wouldn’t over—”
“I’m not talking about taking a grand tour. But this kitchen is too modern—it’s an add-on, right?” He nodded. The 1990s kitchen was efficient, but generic. Amanda grimaced. “I can’t feel the house in here.”
Blake had no clue what that meant, but he followed her into the main hall. She rested her hand on the mantel and smiled a secret little smile that made his pulse quicken.
“This was once a home so full of love.” She looked up at him through long lashes. “Do you know its history?”
“Yes. The stories are full of romance and tragedy—”
“Tell me the stories.” Her gentle smile wasn’t a secret this time. It was aimed at him, and it caused him to stutter.
“T-tell you what?”
“Tell me the stories of Halcyon. Knowing the history of a home helps me get a feel for its personality.”
He shook his head. He wasn’t a storyteller. No one had read him fairy tales as a kid. No one had read him anything. Even the nannies were too busy for such frivolity. He wondered if Zach liked stories. Had Tiffany used to read to her son? “There are plenty of people around who know the history better than I do. I just wanted the land, not the legend.”
“There’s a legend? Now you have to tell me!”
He leaned against the mantel and racked his brain for the history of Halcyon. He’d been disgusted with the whole stupid story right up until the moment Amanda Lowery fell in love with it.
“The house was built in the late 1800s by a wealthy banker from New York named Otis Pendleton. His young wife, Madeleine, fell ill, and they thought the country air might cure her. She got better, and apparently Otis had money to burn, so he built her a castle here. He stayed in the city during the week and came here on weekends to see her and the kids.”
Amanda walked over to the ebony staircase and sat on the steps. He followed her.
“Are you tired? We can do this another time…”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m fine, just taking it all in. Finish the story.” He stared at her, and she gestured for him to get going. She was a bossy little thing when she wasn’t a nervous wreck. He sat on the stairs below her, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Pendleton lost everything in the stock market crash in the twenties. He took his own life, jumping out the window of his twentieth-floor Manhattan office.” Amanda gasped. “Some people insist his brother pushed him. I guess there was bad blood there. The children were sure Otis never would have left Madeleine alone, because they were so much in love.”
Amanda sighed wistfully, looking around the empty hall. He had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t seeing an empty room. She was picturing it as the Pendletons’ home. He wasn’t surprised she was a romantic. He was only surprised that he suddenly felt a bit of a romantic himself just telling her.
“Madeleine was grief stricken and took to her bed upstairs. She died before they could evict her and auction off the house. Supposedly she haunts the place.”
“It’s haunted? Have you seen her?”
He rolled his eyes. “Have I seen Madeleine Pendleton walking around Halcyon? Uh, no.”
Amanda looked over her shoulder and up the winding staircase. He knew she was hoping to see some ghostly apparition, but there was nothing to suggest the place was actually haunted. Well…nothing other than some creaky stairs at night and the odd scent of roses in the solarium.
“What happened after Madeleine died?”
“Halcyon’s been a little of everything—a boardinghouse, a motel…rumor has it, it was a brothel for a few years. It was deserted for a long time. A young couple with more money than good sense bought it back in the nineties and poured their penny stock fortune into it, trying to make it into a bed-and-breakfast.” He glanced up. She was hanging on every word. “They’re the ones that added the kitchen and the elevator. But there wasn’t enough income to cover all the work they did. They closed it up ten years ago, and I bought it last year.” It was surprising how comfortable it was to sit here and talk with her. He looked up at the wood ceilings, feeling more affection for the house than he’d felt since he’d bought it. “Most buildings fall into disrepair very quickly when empty, especially old ones, but this one held up surprisingly well.”
“You’ve told me the stories, but what’s the legend?”
He groaned. “Legend has it that Madeleine won’t be happy until the place is a private home again, and that’s why no business has survived here. I guess that means you’re right. It wouldn’t be a good idea to put offices in here.”
She smiled, but it faded quickly at his next question.
“Are you taking the job?”
“I don’t know, Blake. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
“You don’t think you’re capable of a project like this?”
She sat up sharply. “Of course I’m capable. I specialize in period homes. I can handle this.” She gestured around
