Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
So, when Heidi announces it’s time to return to my confinement on the other side of the property, I’m more than relieved. I’m ecstatic to get out of this room.
She takes care of my laundry and packing before walking me to the car. It’s a sunny afternoon. I’m pathetically giddy about leaving the house. Going outside has never felt like such a privilege. The expanse around me is a precious gift. The endless stretch of mountains, sea, and land is just a different kind of imprisonment, but on the other side of the property, I can move around freely.
When we arrive at the new house, I get out of the car and take in the surroundings. The difference leaves me gobsmacked. The yard is clear of the junk. New pots replace the broken ones, and the discarded plants are transplanted. Shrubs and herbs dot the dove-grey gravel that covers the mud. The different greens of thyme, rosemary, and lavender compliment the blueish green leaves of an olive tree that stands in the center.
“How did this happen so fast?” I ask Heidi, gaping as I look around.
“I knew you’d like it.” She closes the car door with a grin before getting my bag from the trunk. “Mr. Russo knows a landscaper.”
“I bet he does,” I say under my breath as we make our way on the brand-new path to the veranda. I’m sure he knows lots of people who jump when he clicks his fingers.
“We’re lucky the weather permitted for the plants to be planted. Normally, this high up, we have frost at this time of the year. It must be the climate change.”
I’m not going to thank the climate change for making a new garden in winter possible, no matter how beautiful it is.
The door opens before we reach it. A tall, slender man with unruly rose-gold curls matching the copper color of his short-trimmed beard steps out. I pause, taking in his skinny dress pants and tweed jacket. As per the latest high fashion, the pants are tailored to end just above his ankles. The moccasins he wears without socks remind me so much of Colin that an untimely pang of longing stabs into my heart.
“Mrs. Russo,” he says, holding out his arms as he skips down the steps. “Welcome.” He swings a hand in my direction when he reaches me. “Fabien Pelletier at your service.”
I shake his proffered hand. “Are you the landscaper?”
He looks around as if noticing the garden for the first time. “Oh, no.” He laughs and then shivers as if landscaping horrifies him. “I’m Mr. Russo’s personal shopper. I was tasked with fitting out your new house.” He leans closer and adds with a conspiratorial wink, “I dare say you’re a far more beautiful gem than this stunning piece of property, definitely Mr. Russo’s most precious jewel.”
Hmm. I’m sure Angelo will disagree.
“Come.” He hooks his arm around mine and guides me up the steps. “Let me show you around your new domain.” He emphasizes the statement with a flick of his hand. “You’re going to love it, darling.”
Heidi makes big eyes from where she’s walking on the other side of Mr. Pelletier before shooting me a smile.
Mr. Pelletier leads me through the door and extends an arm. “Ta-da! What do you think?”
My mouth drops open. The house is handsomely furnished and decorated in neutral colors with touches of gold. The sofas and blinds are white, forming a contrast with the long-hair caramel-colored rug. Vases filled with white flower arrangements stand on the coffee table and mantlepiece. A beautiful watercolor landscape hangs above the fireplace. A fire that burns with a soft crackle adds warmth and coziness to the interior. While the furniture is in good taste, the focus is on practicality and comfort. I have to admit, Mr. Pelletier has a talent for decorating.
On top of the fact that everything looks brand-new, the house is also squeaky clean. The windows are spotless, and the floors are polished to a shine. The walls were either repainted or scrubbed. I’m leaning toward the latter because the odor of fresh paint is absent. Instead, a smell of lavender hangs in the air.
“Well?” Mr. Pelletier prompts when I don’t say anything. “Do you like it?”
Heidi goes upstairs with my bag without looking twice at the new environment. She must’ve already seen the changes.
“Come,” he says, waving me closer.
He checks that I’m following before walking with long, crab-like steps to the kitchen where he opens a cupboard with a flourish of his hand. “If it’s not to your taste, we can change anything you want. I can get different colors or styles.”
Rows of dove-gray mugs and plates line the shelves. The crockery looks handcrafted. Mom would love it.
He continues to fling open cupboards, exposing crystal wine glasses, silver cutlery, and gourmet groceries. Modern appliances are arranged on the counters under cable lights that hang from the ceiling. A bottle of champagne and two flutes stand on the island counter.