Page 6 of Hearts of Wealth

“She’s not supposed to have a phone right now,” I replied, my jaw clenched with frustration. “Regina told me that’s why I couldn’t talk to her.”

“She’s a teenage girl,” Catherine said. “It would take a force of nature to keep her from a phone.”

“True,” I muttered.

“You haven’t spoken to Paisley since Regina took her?” Catherine asked. “At all?”

I shook my head, my stomach churning with guilt at the realization of how much I had failed Paisley. “No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought she would call me. I have asked Regina several times to let me talk to her, but she always has a reason why she can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine said. “It’s such a mess.”

Regina’s manipulation knew no bounds. I couldn’t bear the thought of Paisley suffering because of it. She must hate me. I hated that she thought I sent her away. “I should have known,” I said.

“She asked me to talk to you,” Catherine said. “She promised to be good.”

I groaned and actually bent forward in physical pain. “I hate that woman. I cannot fathom how I ever thought I loved her. Why in the hell did I marry her?”

“I’m sure she was different when she was trying to reel you in.”

“She was,” I agreed. “I should have known.”

“But you did get to be in Paisley’s life,” she reminded me.

“I guess that made it worth it.” I gave her a kiss. “The chef made dinner. We should eat it while it’s hot. Have a seat and I’ll go get it.”

“I can help.”

“No. Sit. I’m sure he’s dished everything up. I’ll be back.”

As expected, the chef had prepared two plates and left them in the warming oven for us. I grabbed them and carried them to the dining room. Catherine was at the bar in the corner, pulling a bottle of wine from the wine fridge. “Red?” she asked.

“Perfect.” I nodded.

We sat down to dinner, but I couldn’t shake the thoughts of Paisley believing I sent her away. I had to find a way to get a message to her. Maybe I could fly over there and talk to her. That might be the only option.

I didn’t want to bring Catherine down. She had already been patient enough. “How was the house?” I asked her.

Catherine gave a soft sigh, running a hand through her golden hair. “It’s beautiful. Rather, it will be beautiful. The owner wanted to gut it. He’s upset that the Historical Society has forbidden such things.”

“He didn’t know that when he bought it?” I asked.

“Apparently not,” she laughed. “I think I’ve talked him off the ledge. I’m going to put a bid together for him. It certainly needs some work.”

“But of course you’re the woman for the job,” I teased.

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling at the compliment. “Well, I certainly hope so.”

I was glad she seemed to be enjoying the challenge of the house, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Paisley. “Do you think you’ll get the job?”

“I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “The man is a little different.”

“Different?”

“He seems like he doesn’t want the house,” Catherine said. “It’s a beautiful house in a gorgeous neighborhood. The kitchen is a little dark and very outdated, but it can be fixed up. He just doesn’t see the potential. He seemed upset I don’t have one of those fancy programs that produces real images. I have a feeling he’s going to be a difficult client. He’s going to try and push the limits. I hope he knows I’m not going to go against the Historical Society rules.”

“He sounds... interesting,” I commented, trying to hide the hint of jealousy that simmered beneath the surface.

Catherine chuckled softly, a playful gleam dancing in her eyes as she met my gaze. “Jealous, are we?” she teased, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.