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I shrug, returning to my meal. Ryan turns back to speak with Sarah, and Beau is still chatting with Max and Tiffany. Angie is quietly eating her squid, so I join her in watching Uncle Bill flirt back with Robyn, while David glowers alternatively at his plate and the side of her face, drinking more wine than he should be.
“I’d live in Paris,” Angie blurts out as the dishes are cleared away and our wine glasses are topped up. I glance at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow.
“If I could live anywhere in the world, I’d live in Paris.”
I stare at her for another long beat, my mind racing. I don’t know what’s so special about Paris. It’s nice, but not somewhere I’d want to live. Too hot. “Uncle Bill doesn’t own a home in Paris.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “He wouldn’t be invited, so it doesn’t matter if he owns a home there or not.”
She turns to smile with thanks as they place the main meal, a chicken dish, in front of her. Okay. I’ll bite. I can admit to being more than a little intrigued by Uncle Bill’s mystery guest.
“Where in Paris?”
My question throws her. Angie glances at me in surprise, pursing her lips like she’s considering the question. “Fifth arrondissement. Near enough that I could hear Notre Dame’s bells, but not super expensive. I’d get a nice little studio in a fifth-floor walk-up and wake up to the sounds of the bells every morning.”
I stare at her with fascination. That is not the answer I was expecting. That’s not an answer anyone would be expecting. “A fifth-floor walk-upstudioapartment in a moderately priced neighborhood? That’s where you’d live in if you could live anywhere?”
She smirks at me, arching an eyebrow to match mine. “Careful, your privilege is showing.”
I blink back at her, doing a double take. What is that supposed to mean? Angie rolls her eyes at me. “I’d live therealone, so I wouldn’t need more space. Anything bigger would be a bitch to clean. Unless I get a cleaning service in this magical money-free world.”
Okay, maybe I sounded like a dick with my studio apartment comment. I couldn’t imagine living in a fifth-floor walk-up, but we’re not discussing my dream. We’re talking about hers. I already lied about mine.
Angie’s eyes flicker again down towards Uncle Bill. “I don’t think she’s going to last the five weeks.”
I turn my head to follow her gaze to Robyn, my eyes lingering on David’s grinding jaw.
“Probably not.”
“Pity. I liked her,” Angie murmurs. My head snaps around in disbelief. She can’t be serious. The entire time we were in the drawing room, Robyn was a complete bitch who sneered in Angie’s direction and ignored her every time she spoke to her.
“Youlikedher?”
I have no skin in the game, andIwas ready to snap at Robyn to be nicer to the poor woman. Angie smiles fondly down the table. “Yeah. It was like being back in QB.”
I hide my grin in my wine glass. Whatever the reason for her appearance on this vacation, I think Angie Shepherd will make these an enjoyable five weeks.
Chapter Two
Angela
I am impeded on my journey to my room after dinner by a traffic jam on the narrow corner staircase at the end of the building. For some reason, Timothy and Maxwell, along with Maxwell’s girlfriend, Tiffany, have all paused in the hallway at the top of the stairs. As I come to a halt behind them, muffled shouting floats down to me.
“Excuse me.” I try to squeeze between them to get to my room, but Timothy grabs my upper arm, holding me back.
“Maybe just give them some privacy.”
I turn my head toward the shouting. I’m going out on a limb and guess it’s David and Robyn. They didn’t come through to after-dinner drinks in the drawing room. This must be where they disappeared to. She’s definitely not lasting five weeks.
“They’re not exactly standing in the hallway,” I point out, eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t release his grip on my arm.
It’s just as well that he doesn’t. He knows his brother better than I do because a door opens halfway down, and a screaming, sobbing Robyn is shoved into the hallway, a suitcase overflowing with half-packed clothes abruptly following her. Finally, David’s angry face appears.
“It’s the middle of the night, in the middle of the countryside. I can’t get a cab to London,” Robyn wails, but David stands firm, rolling his eyes at her.
“Maybe you should have thought of thatbeforeyou came here with me and tried to seduce my uncle. In front of me, no less,” he sneers. Robyn chokes out another sob.
“It’s the middle of winter. You can’t just kick me out.”
