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“But you didn’t take care of it, did you?” she asked gently. “Because Mr. Knight came back. I suppose you’ve been stealing my mail as well.”
Both women ducked their heads.
“Only the ones from him,” Betty mumbled.
“Glad to hear it. I expect to see them all on my desk by the end of the day. Understood?”
They nodded and shuffled their feet like naughty school children.
“I know you meant well.”
“You may as well know,” Mavis began without raising her eyes, “that we sent letters in reply and put your name on them.”
Kat’s lips twitched again. “Oh, dear. And what did these letters say?”
“They included a ridiculous list of demands and conditions of sale,” Sterling interjected. “Which I now suspect was intended to stop me pressing the matter. Fortunately, I’m not put off so easily.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “What kind of demands?”
“Things like maintaining the building in its current condition, keeping the long-term tenants—”
“Feeding the stray cat,” Betty added with a cheeky grin. “I thought that was a particularly nice touch.”
Kat chuckled. “You two are terrible.”
“We just didn’t want you to worry,” Mavis said. “You’re too busy to fight off corporate leeches who want to suck out your soul.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic?” Sterling asked.
Kat ignored him. Though Betty, Mavis and their friends had been completely out of line, their concern warmed her on the inside. “You didn’t need to do that. I can handle these things. You don’t have to wrap me in cotton wool.”
“We love you, Kat,” Betty said. “That’s all.”
“And I love you, you crazy old bats.” She thought she heard Sterling Knight scoff as she bent to kiss each of them on the cheek. “Now, be off with you. I think I hear the garden calling your names.”
“No, that’s Nell,” Mavis said smartly.
Kat raised an eyebrow and they obediently trotted away, casting hateful glares back over their shoulders at Sterling Knight from Lockwood Holdings. She gave him a once-over herself. He was tall and lean, with tidy blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones. His face was unlined, as though he rarely laughed or smiled, which made it difficult to determine his age. She’d hazard a guess at early thirties, but wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was a few years older or younger than that.
He was undoubtedly handsome, though in a distant way. Like a model on a runway who you could look at but not touch. He gave off “stay away” vibes, and if she came within two feet of him, he’d probably move back to maintain the space between them. He seemed like a man who appreciated his personal bubble.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Knight. I’m Kat.”
