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Her grin wrecks me.
“Who are you? That’s such a sweet thing for a fiancé to say. Almost like you’ve done this before.”
My throat tightens.
I don’t answer.
“And for your information, I’ve only ever broken one bone, so I don’t think you have to worry about that, darling.”
“How?” I can’t hide my curiosity.
“I slipped on water, slid across a tile department store floor, and landed on my elbow hard enough to black out for a second. Um, it was just a second.” She shifts her weight awkwardly.
A chuckle rolls out of me.
“And this is what I worry about.”
By now, we’re up the stairs, and I open the glass door for Paige. “FYI, everything’s way overpriced to support the art endowment. Not a bad thing. The more money we spend, the better it looks. Anything you want, take it. Just tell them to add it to Ward Brandt’s account.”
“You’re paying me enough that I can support the arts on my own.”
“Use my account,” I demand, wishing she’d listen.
I spot Mrs. Winthrope sipping champagne next to a Rembrandt exhibit. The better half of the Winthrope couple looks decent, mostly because she doesn’t share her husband’s eccentric style. She takes a champagne flute.
“There. We need to go talk to her.” I lead Paige over.
“Mr. Brandt, it’s so good to see you!” Mrs. Winthrope squeezes my cheek between her thumb and finger like I’m still seven years old.
So maybe I forgot her attitude makes up for her lack of flash.
She looks at Paige. “You must be the fiancée I’ve heard so much about. Ward was practically raised at these events, so he’s like everyone’s grandson.”
Maybe she thinks so, but her husband doesn’t.
“How do you like working at Brandt Ideas? Oh, it can’t be that bad, right? You’re engaged to the boss.” Mrs. Winthrope beams.
I force a laugh for her joke.
Paige won’t respond well to that and I can’t blame her. I try forming a response, but she beats me to the punch.
“The boss is the worst part of the job, actually. Everyone calls him the Warden because he’s a drill sergeant in a three-piece suit. His concern for work is also his only unattractive quality at home. But he’s a sweetheart, and he’s worried about protecting his company, so who can blame him? It was my dream to work for Beatrice Nightingale Brandt before I knew Ward existed.”
Hold up. She just told my potential client the worst thing about me is that I expect hard work and care too much?
My God, she’s perfect.
“What made you want to work for Beatrice?” Mrs. Winthrope asks.
“When I was in the sixth grade, my parents enrolled me in this fancy academy called Murchinson. The school’s in the middle of a lot of acreage with beautiful trees and flowers, and the building is glass, so you can always see it. There’s a hanging garden in the rafters and a waterway inside. The building was set up to never interrupt the natural scene.”
“Does Murchinson have a boarding option? I think I’ve been there. One of my great nieces goes to school here in the States, because my nephew married an intolerable woman.”
I like Mrs. Winthrope more than her husband. She’s warmer and blunt, if a little heavy at times.
Paige nods. “There’s a boarding option, but my parents were local so I never took it. Anyhow, at first I thought the building was just beautiful, but then I realized with all the natural lighting and scenic beauty I thought better at school. I fell in love with learning. I had to know who designed it because I knew whoever it was—whatever company or person—I wanted to work for them one day.”
“How lovely!” Mrs. Winthrope gushes. “You were blessed with an inquisitive mind.”
“Better. I didn’t expect to find out the place was designed by a woman. That was just icing on the cake. I spent several years following her designs. Most of them are green, striking, and luxurious. That’s a rare combination. When you go the sustainable route, it’s really easy to come across as rustic or too drab. But Beatrice’s work doesn’t do that. She’s modern and sophisticated, in a class all her own.”
“Wow,” Mrs. Winthrope breathes. “I think you might be the most interesting person I’ve talked to tonight.”
“That can’t be true. There are so many people here with more experience than me.”
“A lot of old windbags if you ask me.”
Paige giggles. “I don’t know about that, but I really admire Beatrice. The arts can be cruel to women even now and she was a pioneer. I can’t imagine what she went through.” She shrugs. “I really wanted to learn from her, but she retired right after I started working there, unfortunately.”
I draw Paige closer. “You should visit her. She loves you, and I’m sure she’d still teach you anything you want to know.”
