AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The fingers flying—no other word for it—over a keyboard paused. “Good afternoon.”
And there, Sonya thought, was the down east accent she’d wanted to hear.
“Hi. I’m Sonya MacTavish. I have a three o’clock with Mr. Doyle. The second Mr. Doyle.”
“You’ve got the look of him. Poole green eyes. Could use a little more meat you don’t want to get blown off in a nor’easter. Have a seat, I’ll let Deuce know you’re here.”
“Thanks.”
Sonya chose a chair, noted another desk—currently empty—sat across the room.
“Collin’s niece is here. Ayah,” the woman said so Sonya had to bite back a smile.
She hung up the phone, and when she rose, Sonya assumed she’d sat on cushions, as she barely topped five feet.
“I’ll take you back.”
“Thanks. Did you know my uncle?”
“Of course I did. Went to school together, didn’t we?”
She led the way down a wide hallway, paused at a set of pocket doors.
“First boy I kissed. No spark on either side, but you don’t know till you know.” She opened the doors.
“You don’t get coffee unless you drank that tea I made you. And I’ll know if you lie.”
Deuce pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“I drank it, Sadie, and it’s every bit as nasty as I remember from last time.”
She stood in the doorway, eyeing him. Then nodded. “All right then, I’ll get you coffee. How do you take yours?” she asked Sonya.
“Actually, I just had coffee at the bookstore, so—”
“Water then. Keep hydrated.”
Deuce rose as Sadie marched off. “Sadie runs my life here; my wife runs it at home. What I need is a hunting cabin.” He crossed the room to take both her hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to welcome you to the manor.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Just a cold, but between the two women running my life, you’d think I had the plague. Sit, come sit. Tell me how you are.”
He took one of the two wing chairs facing the desk.
“I’m told you’re working up something for Anna.”
“Yes, I sent her some options before I came into the village. I want to thank you, your family, for everything you’ve done.”
“Collin would’ve done the same for mine. What do you think of the manor?”
“It’s a cliché, but truth. The pictures don’t do it justice. My father’s painting…”
Now he reached over, laid a hand over hers.
“I honestly didn’t realize it was your father’s work, and don’t know how that slipped by me. I assumed Collin had painted it.”
“Their styles were similar.”
