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“They’re renovating a wing, and they’re aware that not everything can be kept for all eternity.”
“Oh well, that’s a good reason to get rid of things. And also true. Sometimes you have to part with treasures. We’ve renovated a few of the bedrooms in Spark House over the years. They each have a different theme partly because they all came from different estates. It’s a bit eclectic, but that’s what gives it personality.”
“That’s smart.”
“We thought so. Moving them was a challenge, but Avery’s fiancé and all of her friends were great about helping out, and young enough that a case of beer and some pizza was more than enough payment.”
“You’ve worked hard to get where you are, haven’t you?”
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Spark House is Avery’s baby. She loves organizing events and coming up with ideas on how to make them really stand apart from anyone else’s. And I love my sisters, and I didn’t want to lose the connection we have, so I stepped up to the plate when my grandmother retired.”
“Is this what you always wanted to do?” He parks the car.
“Go to estate sales?” I unfasten my seat belt and grab my purse from the floor.
He grins. “Run Spark House.”
“I figured eventually I would take my place in the family business, but I thought I wouldn’t have to do it until later. After I’d had a bit of time to pursue my own passions. Or at least I thought I’d have the time to do both. Spark House keeps growing, and there’s only the three of us to run things.”
“You have other staff, though?”
“We do, but the management side of things is just me and my sisters, and it’s not entirely natural for me. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. It’s just that there isn’t a whole lot of time left over for me to do other things.”
“What about all the centerpieces? Do you enjoy making those, or is that a chore?”
“Oh, I love making those.” We both open our doors.
Somehow, he manages to make it around the front of the car and is at my side, offering me a hand before I even have one foot on the ground. I brace myself for the jolt, and this time, I manage not to make any weird noises. I’m still covered in goose bumps, but that’s preferable to any of the possible alternatives.
Jackson’s fingertips rest at the small of my back as we make our way up the front steps. I feel those tiny points of connection like a current running through my body. Combined with my excitement over the estate sale, and I feel a lot like I’ve consumed an entire pot of coffee and snorted a pound of sugar.
“I need to warn you about something, Jackson,” I blurt when we reach the massive front doors. They must be twelve feet high, a stunning pattern carved into the black stained wood.
“I’m listening.”
I tip my head up and find him staring down at me intently. His cinnamon-y breath breaks across my cheek. He’s so close, I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I really love estate sales.”
He grins, and if my lady parts could, they would sigh. “I already knew that.”
“No, I mean, I really, really love estate sales. My gran and I used to go all the time when I was a kid. I get a little giddy. Sometimes too giddy. So I’m going to apologize in advance if I do or say anything embarrassing.”
“I don’t know that a preemptive apology is necessary, but I suppose the warning is appreciated. How giddy are we talking? Like kid-in-a-candy-store level giddiness? Or more like first time at Disney World?”
He’s smiling again, and I get lost in the warmth of it for a moment before I respond. “More like first time at Disney after having eaten six bags of cotton candy.”
Jackson’s eyes flare. “Ah, that’s a fairly high level of giddiness. I look forward to witnessing this.”
I don’t have a chance to say anything else because the front doors swing open. I half expect a butler or even two, but instead, an older man wearing a bright smile and in a gray tweed suit is standing in the opulent foyer. “Jackson, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Instead of extending a hand, he pulls Jackson in for a brief, very real hug.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long, Harmon. It’s been a busy year.”
“No apologies necessary. I heard about your time in Peru. Very noble. Your parents would be proud.” He turns his attention to me, his eyes alight with curiosity. “And you must be London Spark. Jackson has told me wonderful things about you.”
I swallow down my surprise and confusion and extend my hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, sir.”
“London, this is Harmon East. He owns Enviro Enterprise, one of the leaders in green paper product manufacturing. You’re already affiliated with a number of the smaller local businesses that he has partnerships with,” Jackson explains.
