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Grinning, she looked over the rail, down at him.
“Is it?”
“It is. I’ll make this work. I can make this work. Your favorite?” She turned a circle before coming down again. “My favorite. By a mile.”
“That’s how you looked when you got out of the car.”
“How’s that?”
“Happy. Alive with it.”
“I fell in love. Boom. When I saw the house. Now I’ve fallen all over again.”
“There’s still more.”
“Nothing’s going to top this.”
Her bedroom—in the twin turret (yay!) with its sweeping view of the sea—came close.
Her own sitting room, which made her wonder why people sat so damn much, opened into the bedroom with its big four-poster, another window seat. A fireplace simmered. A pair of atrium doors opened to the little balcony with a curved wall. The soft blue walls held art—the quiet sort of misty forests, blooming meadows.
Fresh flowers sat on the dresser with its oval mirror reflecting the room.
“It’s just lovely.”
“My sister switched some of it out. She said it was too much a man’s room.”
“It’s perfect. Thank her for me.”
“That’s a fainting couch—according to Anna.” He gestured to the curved sofa in soft blue-and-gold stripes at the foot of the bed. “In case.”
“If I swoon, I’ll try to hit that. The bathroom’s like the kitchen.”
“First I’ve heard that one.”
“It’s got the modern but maintains the character. Claw-foot tub, but a big glass shower. The sweet little washbasin stand, but this old cabinet or dresser converted into a vanity with double sinks. And the tile looks like stone, the sconces like, well, sconces.
“Collin Poole had really good taste.”
“He loved this place, you were right about that. I hope you know he left it to you because he loved it.”
They toured the rest of the bedrooms, and up to what he told her had once been a ballroom—imagine that—now used for storage.
More storage in what had once been the servants’ wing—imagine that, too.
She climbed to the widow’s walk, stood hugging herself against the cold while the snow fell just a little thicker.
“On a good clear day, when you’re not freezing your butt off, you might see whales sound.”
“It doesn’t seem real. It’s starting to not seem real again.”
“Hey, what’s the problem? You found out a few weeks ago your father had a twin brother, separated at birth, who died and left you a big old house on a cliff, a big pile of money—not to mention antiques and art. Only hitch is you’ve got to pack up, move, and live in the big old house where you don’t know anybody.”
He shrugged.
“Happens every day.”
Laughing, she rubbed her arms. “Well, when you put it like that.”
