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“This is a light, airy space, and we can do a great deal with it. What, is up to you. What do you want this space to say? What do you want to achieve?”
I’m not sure if she’s mocking me or not—we’ve never had a professional conversation before. “What I want is something classic that doesn’t date and doesn’t need redecorating every year.”
Oliver smiles in approval. “Yes. Pragmatic,” he pipes up.
“You sound just like Kit,” Caroline huffs, and a tangle of conflicted emotions fill my throat. Kit. My half-brother.
And Caro doesn’t know. “Thank you,” I mutter. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
She smiles. “It was meant as such.”
“Let’s see the common areas so you can have an idea of the extent of the work required,” Oliver says, his gaze intent on Caroline.
She offers him a polite, cool smile. “I can sketch some plans and take a few photos as we walk through.”
* * *
Alessia is paying attention to Jennifer Knight, their social etiquette instructor and the owner of the school. “And our mission is to empower all of you to present your best selves. You’ll have the confidence to walk into any room and know exactly how to behave. From the boardroom to the banqueting hall, you’ll be equipped to handle any work and social situation. We’ll start with the basics: introductions—both formal and informal—what forms of address you should use, and while mainly focusing on British etiquette, we’ll touch on cultural differences that you should be aware of to make those you meet and greet feel respected and comfortable in your presence.” Jennifer gives the class a broad smile. “If you’ll turn to the first page in your workbook, we can begin.”
Alessia does exactly that, while Tabitha is trying and failing not to look bored.
* * *
“I think I have all I need,” Caroline says.
“Excellent.” Oliver gives us a rare, relieved smile.
“Do you have a budget in mind?” Caro looks to me.
“Do the designs and give us options,” I state, and Oliver nods with approval again—I think—which is heartening.
“Okay. That shouldn’t be too difficult. If we’re done, can we grab a coffee, Maxim?”
“Sure. There’s a café across the road. Oliver, I’ll see you back at the office.”
“Of course. I’ll wait to hear from you, Caroline,” he says stiffly.
What is it with these two?
“Something troubling you?” I ask, watching Caroline slide into the banquette.
“Yes. Rowena. Have you managed to track her down and ask her?”
I take the chair opposite Caro as I struggle to find something to say. “Ask her what?”
“About Kit! The genetic stuff.”
I clear my throat. “Yes. Of course. I did. And she said there was nothing to worry about.”
Caro narrows her eyes, pinning me with her most intrusive gaze. Inside, I’m flailing. This is not a conversation I expected to have just yet. I’m still coming to terms with my mother’s bombshell.
“What are you not telling me?” Caro’s tone is terse. She’s irritated.
“Nothing.”
“Maxim, you’re lying. I can always tell. Your whole face becomes completely immobile while your brain frantically works out what to say.”
“It does not! And I told you. She said there’s nothing to worry about.”
“It was all a false alarm?”
I make a noise in my throat that I hope passes for agreement. I don’t want to lie to her.
“I’m trying to organize Kit’s memorial service, and you won’t confirm the date, and Rowena is not taking my calls.”
“Oh.” Hell. Kit’s memorial had slipped my mind.
“It’s not like her,” Caro continues. “I don’t know if I’ve offended her. But it must be something. Can you talk to her?”
“She’s not talking to me either.”
“Really? Why? Do you think she’s okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you talk to her?”
“Over the weekend.”
Caroline huffs. “Maryanne’s disappeared too. Perhaps they’ve found some late winter sun together.”
“Maybe. Do you have a guest list for the memorial service?”
“Yes. I’ll send it over, and you can add people. I’m waiting for your mother’s additions.”
“I told Rowena I’d write the eulogy.”
“Can we discuss readings?”
“Of course. Whenever. We’re around. Alessia is on that etiquette course this week.”
“Good. She’ll feel a lot more confident afterwards. And she should make some friends.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you worried?” Caroline scoffs. “For heaven’s sake, Maxim. She’s a grown woman.”
“I know. I know. But the kidnapping. I… I…” I shrug. What can I say? Alessia’s safety is my priority.
“Of course. But she’s here now. With you. She’ll be fine.”
“Incidentally, what did you say to Charlotte Hampshire at Dimitri’s party?”
“Nothing!” she says far too quickly and holds my gaze, but I’m not sure I believe her.
“Caro?” I arch a brow in warning.
What did you say?
“Is this about the photograph? It’s everywhere. Are you in trouble?”
“Was that your intention? To cause trouble between Alessia and me?” I glare at her, and the temperature between us drops to below zero.
Caroline’s eyes widen. “No! Why would I do that?” she says in a gush of faux indignation. “Is that what you think?”
