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For fuck’s sake, does she ever actually drink it?
“I’ve been on other jobs the last couple of years,” she said. “About a year before I got this one, I was hired to help restore a hotel in Galena, Illinois. It was older than the Campbell House by about twenty years, and in much worse shape. Before that, I had back-to-back projects in southern Ohio.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been able to stay with my aunt Daphne and Richard when I’m back here, so buying myself a place didn’t really make sense.”
I grunted.
She sighed. “You’re not going to tell me why you were looking at the plans, are you?”
“Nope.”
Charlotte leveled me with an annoyed look and moved her coffee mug next to the sink. The mixing bowls were gone, and Isaw her glance at the cabinets, reluctant curiosity stamped all over her face.
“They’re underneath the drawer with the silverware, by the mixer.”
“They’re harder to reach down there,” she said. “We’re tall, Burke.”
“How often have you used those mixing bowls, Charlotte?”
Her jaw set mulishly, and I fought the smile that threatened.
“When do you return to the Orange State again?”
“Probably not soon enough for you.”
She smiled sweetly, gathering books into her arms. “How very, very true.”
Chapter Nine
CHARLOTTE
It was my yell of distress that had Burke thundering from the yellow bedroom. His dark hair was still wet from his shower, sticking up at odd angles that shouldn’t have been endearing.
“What is it?” he bellowed.
Sheepishly, I pointed at the TV. “I was just ... watching that and got a little worked up.”
He heaved a great big breath, and I did not notice that the T-shirt he’d pulled on was sticking to the wet spots on his broad chest. “Seriously?”
I winced.
“I thought someone was breaking into the house,” he said.
“No,” I answered slowly. “But he was about to sell that at a garage sale.”
Burke blinked. Took another deep breath.
I gestured wildly at the screen. “That’s a Duffner & Kimberly leaded-glass shade,” I said.
His face went blank. “And?”
“That lampshade is worth, I don’t know, fifteen thousand dollars?”
The blank face was gone. In its place was horror. “That? It looks like my nephew made it in art class. My nephew is nine and not all that good at art.”
“It does not. I would kill to have one of those at the Campbell House.” I pointed at the light fixture hanging over the small, round table in the carriage house. Not a leaded-glass shade worth fifteen grand, but it was cute and warm and added character. “See? They add visual interest. They fill the negative space in the room, warm it up.”
“Just because something’s old doesn’t mean we have to use every ugly piece of furniture you can find.”
“That’s it.” I pressed a hand over my heart. “You are ...”
