I blink. “Mackenzie said that? My Mackenzie? The one who told me this morning I attract crime scenes like a magnet attracts metal shavings?” Not to mention I’m a fire hazard in the kitchen.
Sloane smiles. “She also said you’re the smartest person she knows. And that if anyone could figure this out, it’s you.”
“Huh.” I’m genuinely surprised. “She usually just threatens to murder me herself if I find another body.”
“I suspect you’re being modest.”
“I’m really not.”
Her phone buzzes in her clutch and she glances at it, her expression tightening for just a second before smoothing back to pleasant.
“Sorry,” she says, silencing it without looking at the message. “That’s my husband. He’s dealing with a client situation. Someone unhappy about timeline delays.”
She says it casually, but there’s something in the way she saysclient situationthat sounds rehearsed. Like she’s said it a hundred times before.
“Renovation projects always have unhappy clients,” I say.
“They do. Occupational hazard.” She tucks the phone away. “But speaking of renovations—I’ve been thinking about that sunroom addition you mentioned. Off the library, right?”
My entire face lights up. I can feel it happening and I don’t even care.
“You remembered?”
“I did. And I’ve been thinking about it all week.” She pulls out her phone, swipes through what appear to be architectural sketches. “South-facing exposure, floor-to-ceiling windows, French doors leading out to the gardens. We could use reclaimed wood to match the existing library architecture,keep everything feeling cohesive. Add heated floors, UV-protective glass so the books don’t fade. Maybe some built-in window seats?”
She’s describing my dream. Literally. I’ve been sketching this exact sunroom in the margins of my planner for over a year, let alone in my mind for at least five.
“That sounds perfect,” I say, and I can hear the excitement in my own voice. “I’ve wanted to do something with that space forever, but every quote I’ve gotten has been astronomical.”
“Historic properties are tricky,” Sloane agrees. “A lot of contractors don’t know how to work with them properly. They either want to gut everything or they’re too scared to touch anything. But my husband and I specialize in this kind of work. It’s what we love. We just finished a gorgeous project for the Hendersons over in Rolling Oaks—added a conservatory to their 1890s Victorian. It turned out beautifully.”
The Hendersons. Rolling Oaks. It sounds impressive, and I make a mental note to ask around about them later. Just to see the finished work, obviously.
“When do you think you could start?”
“How about after the Fourth?” She tucks her phone away. “We’re actually booked solid through September, but I could squeeze you in if we get started right away. I’d just need a deposit to get things rolling. We typically ask for fifty percent upfront to secure materials and the architect’s time. Then I’ll have our architect draw up some preliminary plans. He’s amazing. He can turn plans around in forty-eight hours. You and Jasper can review everything before we break ground.”
Fifty percent seems highfor a deposit, but then again, I don’t know anything about construction costs. And if it means getting the sunroom done by fall...
“I’ll need to talk to Jasper first,” I say, trying to sound responsible even though I’m already mentally decorating the sunroom. “But I’m very interested. Really interested.”
“Of course. Talk to him. Think about it.” Sloane’s smile is genuine. “But honestly, Bizzy, if you decide to move forward this week, I can stop by the inn whenever works for you to pick up the deposit check. And we’ll get the ball rolling right away.”
Perfect,she thinks.Can’t wait to get this ball rolling. It feeds my account and it meets her needs, win-win all the way.
She’s not wrong there.
“I’ll talk to him tonight,” I promise.
There’s a commotion back at the table with Georgie’s voice rising above the others—something about needing me right this second—and both Sloane and I turn to look.
Mom’s waving at me with a frantic energy that suggests either someone’s injured or Georgie has said something she can’t take back.
“Duty calls,” I say as both Sloane and I move toward the group.
Sloane meets up with her cohorts who have all moved away from the tables and are now dipping their toes in the water.
But back at the table, Georgie is doing something that can only be described as a crime against fancy dinner parties.
