Daisy smiled, cautious and small. “Yes. We can go.”
Daisy stared out the SUV window as they drove through the affluent hills of Hillsborough, California. Jameson’s realtor spoke, too many details bleeding past, about schools and acreage and proximity to his mother. It was only twenty-five minutes from the city; close enough but still removed.
Hilda Beck had been Margot’s realtor. She’d helped Margot buy her home and was confident she could find Jameson everything he wanted.
The first two houses had been busts. Immaculate, expensive, and exactly what Daisy expected, but Amelia vetoed both because the distance between her room and Jameson’s was too great. Daisy learned quickly that Jameson didn’t care which house he took; he only wanted Amelia’s approval. So Hilda directed most of her salesmanship to the little girl.
“You’re going to love this one, sweetie. Five bedrooms, five baths, and the room that will likely be yours has a charming view and a treehouse right outside your window, and it’s close to the primary suite,” Hilda promised.
“Finally,” Amelia mumbled.
“And the property is almost two acres… plenty of room for more kiddos,” Hilda added, eyes flicking between Jameson andDaisy. Both their faces warmed. “Two Jacuzzis, one near the pool, and one off the primary’s balcony. Very romantic.”
Daisy coughed, awkward.
When the gate opened onto the drive, she was surprised to find the exterior much more understated than the last two, grand but quieter, which she liked.
Before Hilda climbed out of the passenger seat, she remarked, “Oh, and this one is on the lower end of your budget.”
Daisy gaped at the eight-figure price tag Hilda casually rattled off.Must be nice.Her parents had money, but this was a different kind of wealth. Wealth that didn’t blink at eight figures and bought multiple homes in different cities.
They followed Hilda into the entry. The foyer’s ceiling rose impossibly high. A library opened to the right; a long hallway led to a kitchen that overlooked the backyard. It was like they were stepping into a piece of history.
Amelia burst through the sliding glass door and ran out into the yard. The pool was Olympic in scale, and the stretch of grass behind it ran back to tennis and basketball courts.
It was massive. Daisy felt a flicker of envy at what she’d never be able to give Amelia. She chased the thought away and watched her daughter frolic.
“Be careful, Amelia. You wouldn’t want to fall in,” Jameson called from the veranda.
She returned, breathless. “Where’s my room?” she asked Hilda.
“Be patient, sweetie,” Daisy said.
They toured the downstairs guest room and movie theater, then climbed one of two staircases to what would likely be her bedroom. It was painted in princess pastels; the ceiling a parade of mystical creatures. Amelia was mesmerized. So was Daisy.
“This is it. I love this house. We’ll take it!” Amelia declared.
“Amelia, you can’t choose a house solely based on your room,” Daisy warned.
“Then let’s hurry and see the other rooms,” Amelia said, impatient.
They saw two more bedrooms and then opened the double doors to the primary suite. The room unfolded into a private living space, a wet bar, and a balcony with an outlying view of the Pacific.
“And this is the Jacuzzi I mentioned,” Hilda announced, unveiling the bubbling spa on the balcony. “As I said, very romantic.”
Daisy’s insides curled. She instantly pictured Jameson with a woman, lounging in that Jacuzzi, sipping champagne. Jealousy prickled hot and ridiculous.
“I don’t like it,” she said, stunned that she actually verbalized her opinion.
Three heads turned. “But it’s awesome, Mom. Who has a Jacuzzi on their balcony?” Amelia asked, astonished.
“It can always be removed,” Hilda said smoothly. “May I ask why you’re not fond of it?”
Daisy shrugged and lied, “Just seems a little tacky and dangerous.”
They watched her. Jameson’s smirk told her he knew exactly how jealous she sounded. Her cheeks burned.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not my house,” she mumbled.
