“I want to create a more understated elegance. I want class with that comfort.” She closed her eyes while she thought, leaning back against the colorful cushions.
You want you. Maybe Miss E. wasn’t wrong about bringing Lydia Montgomery in. She knew what women wanted. “Understated elegance and comfort costs money. How far are you willing to go to get that?”
“I have money. Not as much as Reed Watson, but enough to cover my third ownership.”
“Who is this Reed person?”
She opened her eyes. “I haven’t met him since he’s away dealing with a family emergency. I do understand he’s a good friend to your grandmother.”
Hunter needed to check up on Reed Watson. “What do you consider elegant?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “Renaissance, Italy. Beautiful gowns, beautiful furniture. Elizabethan England. Regency England. Or maybe art deco, art nouveau. Or maybe Paris in the thirties. Josephine Baker, Langston Hughes, James Baldwin. Imperial Japan was beautiful. I can just see serene gardens and koi ponds like the one in the lobby.” Her eyes went dreamy and far away as she recited her litany of possibilities. “Napoleonic France.” Her face glowed with her ideas.
“These times of incredible beauty were always precursors to incredible disasters and upheavals,” Hunter said. Her enthusiasm was contagious. He just wanted to impress her. Who the hell didn’t want to do that for her?
She opened her eyes and glared at him, her dark eyes shining. “Mr. Russell, I am impressed that you know your history, but you’re ruining my dreams with your knowledge.”
“Hunter. Please call me Hunter. I’m an architect and being practical goes with my job description.” He understood the importance of artistic aesthetics, but they warred with functionality every time. His specialty was the preservation of historic homes. He’d never built a spa before. If he accepted the challenge, he would be spending time with Lydia, getting to know her. He turned over all the possibilities in his mind.
“You smell a challenge,” she said.
“I’m not sure I like that smug look on your face.”
“You’re in. I can tell.”
“I’m thinking.” Hunter didn’t like knowing how easily anyone—especially Lydia—could read him. “Why are you doing this?” Thoughts whirled around in his brain and the idea of a spa started to appeal to him. He would have to do some research, but research was something that came naturally to him.
She was silent for so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer him. Finally, she said, “I don’t want my daughter to grow up like me.”
She surprised him with her honesty. He definitely wanted to know more. What had happened in her childhood to make her want something so different for her daughter? She was an interesting mix of sophistication and naiveté. “What’s wrong with you?”
She took a deep breath. “I was raised to be a...a decoration—first for my parents and then my late husband. If my daughter sees me doing something of value then she will know there is more to life than hosting cocktail parties and rearranging flowers.”
Hunter could think of nothing to say after that statement. He had a feeling not one ounce of fun had been built into her youth.
Maya came running back into the living room. Miss E. followed at a more sedate pace. “Momma, Miss E. and I were talking about horses. She thinks I should have one.”
Lydia gave Miss E. a long, thoughtful look. “She does, does she?”
Maya nodded enthusiastically, hands clasped in front of her, eyes pleading. “Can I have a horse, please, so I can ride with my prince?”
Hunter forced himself not to smile. Miss E. was at it again. His grandmother was the pied piper.
“Every young girl should know how to control a huge beast like a horse so she can learn how to control the two-legged kind.”
Hunter gave his grandmother a sharp look. “Is that how you learned?”
“My daddy raised bird dogs and I grew up with horses so I learned at a young age about horses and dogs and later on, children.”
“You raised us like we were puppies?”
“And look how you turned out. I should write a book.” Miss E.’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Raising your children to bark on command.”
Lydia burst out laughing. “At one time I wanted to take horseback riding lessons myself.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She sighed. “My parents didn’t consider it an acceptable sport for a proper young lady.”
Now that was sad. His parents and later his grandmother indulged all of them in their interests. He was beginning to dislike Lydia’s parents. “What are you going to tell her?” He gestured at Maya.
Lydia hugged her daughter. “I’ll consider it.”
Miss E. leaned over Hunter and whispered, “She’s in.”
As if Hunter didn’t already know that. Frankly, so was he. He was just going to make them work a bit harder for it.
Maya leaned against her mother’s knee, her eyes pleading. “Please, please, please.”
“I said I’d consider it. Horses bite.” Lydia brushed a few flyaway tendrils of her daughter’s dark hair away from her face.
“We’ll find one that doesn’t bite,” Miss E. said, a note of finality in her tone.
Oh, yeah, Maya was getting a horse. And he was getting a new job...at least for a while. He would have to call his partner and arrange for him to take over his clients. He needed to call his assistant and let her know. A list formed in his mind. The logistics of what he was about to do made him wonder if he was the one who was insane.
* * *
Lydia didn’t realize how bored she’d been with her life until she met Miss E. Miss E. lived a life Lydia could only dream about. She’d lived on her luck and her wits while raising her grandchildren. She’d taken risks, never knowing if she would win or lose, while shaping her own destiny. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she might have been jealous. Lydia wasn’t very comfortable knowing that about herself. Jealousy was bad. Jealousy was a sin. She had heard that often enough from the pulpit of the Baptist church her parents attended.
Lydia grinned at her daughter flying through the suite, putting her clothes away. Lydia had wanted a pony, too, but her parents had enrolled her in ballet in order to learn to be graceful and fluid. Yes, she had learned gracefulness, but also how to appreciate music and be resilient, how to balance and develop her eye-hand coordination. She had loved ballet as a child, but she’d really wanted a horse, just like Maya.
“Your son is very forceful,” Lydia said to Miss E. after Hunter left. And handsome. She was glad he was gone because he made her feel...she wasn’t sure what. But whatever it was left her uncomfortable because for a brief second her gaze had settled
