Page 6 of Passion and Privilege

“Expand our search for contractors,” I said. “Go beyond the confines of New York. Hell, put out a worldwide call for help.”

He nodded. “I’ll do that, but you know that will delay things.”

“Start scheduling one-on-one meetings with these contractors,” I continued. “I want to hear their ideas, their plans for restoring the manor to its former glory. No one is getting hired unless I see their plans. And maybe make it clear I’m not interested in making my house look like some Hollywood celebrity’s modern mansion. I don’t want clean lines and all that shit. I want the dark wood, just like it has now. I don’t want LED lighting. I want the old fixtures, and if that isn’t possible, I want the fixtures to look old.”

Bennet nodded in acknowledgment. “I’ll get on it right away, Timothy.”

As Bennet left to make the necessary calls, I found myself standing alone in the garden. The late spring air was a stark contrast to the bustling cityscape I had grown accustomed to. I walked back inside, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. I wore jeans and work boots with the anticipation of this being a workday. It was different than the usual three-piece suit I wore for my day job. But those days were in my past. I was done with the corporate world. The lack of air-conditioning in the massive house was a bit of an issue, but thankfully, the high ceilings and lots of open windows helped get the air flowing.

The view from the kitchen window framed a section of the overgrown garden outside. I remembered my mother growing her own herbs. She was so proud of those herbs. As I gazed at the neglected greenery, a flash of blonde caught my eye. The sudden movement drew my attention. I watched in disbelief as a woman stumbled and fell over the overgrown garden wall.

“What the hell?”

Chapter Four

Catherine

I COULDN’T RESIST. It was like the last piece of candy in the world and it was dangling in front of me. No one had that kind of self-control. I needed to see the place. I wanted the chance to make a bid. I knew it was a big job and I probably wouldn’t get it, but I had to try. I had to see it before it was gutted and destroyed. I knew my dad wasn’t interested in the job, but that was because he didn’t think we could handle it. He didn’t want to apply because he assumed our bid would be overlooked for one of the bigger companies.

But what was the harm in trying? I had used images from online and old blueprints I pulled from the county. I needed something to occupy my time after my disastrous romantic life fell apart. I barely slept all weekend. The bid I put together was probably not going to be chosen, but it felt good to at least be in the running.

I drove up the hill to the property. There she was. Gloriana Manor. A large wrought-iron gate stood as a formidable barrier between me and the dream that seemed to be just out of reach. As I approached the gate, a security guard materialized, his stern expression making it clear that my uninvited presence was unwelcome.

“I’m here to drop off my bid for the renovation project,” I said with a bright smile. I wasn’t above using my feminine wiles to get through the gate.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Hastings. I have a bid that could save this house from whoever’s about to ruin it.” Desperation tainted my words. I was trying to keep the crazy under control, but a lack of sleep and sustenance left me feeling a little twitchy.

The guard eyed me with skepticism, a smirk playing on his lips. “No appointment, no entry. Come back with proper authorization.”

Frustration welled up within me. I had no idea who Mr. Hastings was or how to secure an appointment with him. The mansion loomed behind the gate. Trucks and vans were parked in the driveway, a sign that someone had already taken the initiative to start working on the house. Panic surged through me, the fear that my dream of restoring the beautiful old home would crumble under the hands of those who failed to understand its significance.

“Please,” I begged. “Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s by appointment only. We’ve got every curious looky-loo trying to see the place. It’s not happening.”

“I’m not a looky-loo,” I said, sighing. “I’m a carpenter. I have a legitimate reason to be here.”

“Unless you have an appointment, you’ll have to come back later.”

“I can’t just come back later! Whoever’s in there might ruin the integrity of the house!” I pleaded, desperation making my voice a little higher pitched than normal.

The guard remained unmoved, his indifference infuriating. “Rules are rules. Get an appointment or leave.”

Defeated, I retreated to my truck, sitting in the driver’s seat as the weight of frustration settled over me. But then, a spark of defiance ignited within me. Glancing back at the stone wall surrounding the mansion, overgrown with ivy, an idea took root.

I could climb the wall, slip inside, and confront the person responsible for the potential desecration of Gloriana Manor. The thought of my dream slipping away fueled a surge of determination and maybe recklessness. I had spent years waiting for this opportunity, and I wasn’t going to let a gate and an indifferent security guard stand in my way.

I smiled and waved at the guard and drove down a way before parking my truck out of view. No stinking wall was going to keep me from seeing that mansion. I might not get a chance to work on it, but I could at least see it before it was destroyed.

I approached the ivy-covered wall and studied it, looking for the best way over. Unsure of the stability I pushed on the rock wall. It didn’t budge. With a deep breath, I started climbing, my fingers gripping the ivy-covered stones. The adrenaline surged through me. My dad used to tell me I was one of the most stubborn and determined people he had ever met. When my mind was made up, nothing would stop me.

As I reached the top, I peered over, surveying the grounds and feeling a thrill of excitement. The mansion stood before me. It was gorgeous. Beautiful. I couldn’t get over the rooflines and the tower. It was all so unique and a testament to the Queen Anne style. I threw one leg over, preparing to jump with the bid proposal in my hand. I lost my balance, teetering precariously on the stone wall, trying to get my balance, but it was no use.

I tumbled over the wall and into a bush below.

The impact was softened by the foliage, but my paperwork scattered in the wind, leaving me scrambling on my hands and knees to gather the pages.