Page 9 of Passion and Privilege

I drove up the expansive driveway, rounding the corner, and saw an imposing figure waiting in front of the doors. I stepped out of the truck and approached the man. He wasn’t the guy who had busted me hopping the fence. “Miss Jacobson?” he said.

“Yes, but please, call me Catherine.”

“My name is Bennet Edmundson. We spoke on the phone.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said and shook his hand.

“Likewise. Mr. Hastings is in his office. I’ll show you up.”

The moment I crossed the threshold, my breath caught in my throat. The interior of Gloriana Manor unfolded before me like a forgotten masterpiece. It felt like I should take a moment to appreciate it. The air was rich with the scent of aged wood and maybe dust. The history of the house was embedded in every creak of the floorboards.

Bennet led me through a grand hallway adorned with timeless portraits and elaborate wallpaper that looked to be from the twenties or thirties. I felt a sense of reverence, as if I had stepped into a living time capsule. I almost forgot the reason why I was here. I just needed to soak it all in.

Original features were meticulously preserved, paying homage to the Queen Anne Revival style that defined Gloriana Manor. The wide plank flooring, the ornate trim, the vintage tiles—every detail spoke of a bygone elegance. I wanted to run my fingertips over the trim. I would have dropped to the floor and inspected the planks if I was alone.

Bennet guided me through the house with practiced ease. “This way,” he said as we walked to the grand staircase.

Again, I nearly dropped to my knees to worship the craftmanship. The opulent banister was a beautiful cherry mahogany, its surface a mirror-like sheen. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering above the banister, unsure if I should touch this relic of time.

Bennet must have noticed my hesitation. He smiled knowingly and nodded his head toward the staircase, his way of giving permission to touch the masterpiece. “His office is upstairs.”

“Remarkable,” I murmured. “Truly beautiful.”

My hand made contact with smooth wood, sending an electric thrill through me. I couldn’t believe I was inside the manor and getting to touch the banister.

As we ascended the grand staircase, I took in the glorious stained-glass windows that bathed the interior of the house with a warm, colorful light. I felt like I was climbing up into another time.

“I’ve always wanted to know what the inside of the house looked like, and it’s better than I ever imagined,” I admitted breathlessly.

Bennet was seemingly pleased by my reaction. “I’m glad you can appreciate it,” he said.

We approached a set of imposing double doors. “Wait here,” he said.

I took a moment to absorb the history around me. I could see things I could do to return it to its former glory.

“Mr. Hastings will see you now,” Bennet said and opened the door wide.

“Thank you.”

I stepped into a large office, prepared to impress the owner of the home. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of the man leaning against his desk, studying my bid. It was the same man I had encountered in the garden yesterday.

“Not who you were expecting?” he said with a knowing smile, his gaze locking onto mine.

I stared into his blue eyes. “You’re not as old as I imagined you’d be,” I deadpanned, a hint of embarrassment coloring my cheeks. I truly did believe Mr. Hastings would be much older. I did not expect a man that I guessed was in his late thirties or early forties. He had a very dignified look about him. His black hair was cut short and perfectly styled. He wore jeans and boots with a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up like the first time I saw him.

He chuckled and motioned for me to sit. As I settled into the chair, he continued to lean casually on his desk, a picture of confidence and control. His feet were crossed at his ankles.

“Are you the representative for Jacobson and Sons?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m one of the sons.”

He looked at me with his brow arched. “I see.”

“This bid, did you put it together?”

“I did,” I said, nodding.

He asked a series of questions, probing into the details of my bid. “Tell me about your vision for the house,” he said.