Page 89 of A Change of Location
She presented the box of pastel macarons that had magically appeared in her hotel room. “For Isobel.”
“She has surprise, too, is so heppy to show you.”
A front hall connected to a spacious sitting room. A set of glass doors at the far end of the kitchen opened onto a paved patio.
Isobel was seated in a lounger. The small lump of fur in her lap stirred and raised its head, revealing round brown eyes.
“A puppy!”
“From Martin, for my birthday. Ernie is a cavalier spaniel, not quite two months old. They’re both training with Susan. Macarons—my favorite!”
The little dog hopped down and shook his long, fluffy ears. As he sniffed Hannah’s shoes, she placed the confectionary box on the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Each day there’s noticeable improvement.” At the sound of vehicle doors shutting, Isobel said, “That will be the gardeners Martin sent from Stanwell to plant my rose bushes.”
The gate opened to reveal a man wearing work clothes and wellies. He pushed in a wheelbarrow overflowing with shrubs, and his co-worker followed with a bag of compost.
“You gentlemen certainly don’t require supervision, so we’ll leave you to get on with your task. Step inside, Hannah. I’ll put the kettle on, and we can sample those sweets.”
While waiting for the water to boil, she gave Hannah a tour of the cottage. Ernie padded after them on miniature feet, his tail constantly wagging.
“I know better than to offer you the spare bedroom,” Isobel said. “Martin says you turned down his invitation.”
“I’ve got to stay within shouting distance of Liz. Although she’s making an effort to follow her husband’s advice to avoid stress. Tom is constantly telling her to pace herself.”
“I can’t imagine how she produces a major movie and meets the needs of a husband and an infant. I borrowed my son’s copy of Forsaken Fortune. A cracking good tale, as he says. Even if you weren’t making the film here, I’d be eager to see it.”
“We hope the rest of the world feels that way.”
After their tea-drinking session, Hannah promised to return soon.
Seeing her to the front door, Isobel said, “If you happen to be available when it’s time, come back to help me put my tulip and hyacinth bulbs in the ground. I’d love to boast that Wendy Edney’s daughter planted some of them. And do, please, give Gwen and Neil my best. Your uncle as well. Those days in Maine are a happy memory for me. And Martin.”
Hannah studied the sage-colored minivan parked near her hire car. A new logo was printed on its door beneath the full name Milverston Estate in classic lettering. Martin had taken possession of his fleet of electric vehicles.
Her introduction to the spaniel pup led to an impromptu visit to Stanwell. Not in connection with her job, but because she wanted to see Jewel.
She found both dogs in the kitchen, watching Jan whisk egg whites in a copper bowl.
“Hello, girls. Behaving yourselves?”
“You should know better than to ask,” said the cook, returning to her task.
As Hannah knelt on the stone floor, Jewel lunged forward, almost knocking her back. She ran a hand along a glossy black shoulder. When she hooked her arm around the lurcher’s neck, the other dog responded with a jealous snarl. “Mind your manners,” she chided.
“They’re jumpy today, like they can sense Martin’s due back from the city.” After this remark came a disparaging sniff. “All these years I believed my mortal trial was dealing with his antics. Now there’s caravans everywhere, engines running constantly, electric wires all round. Ron and Nico and the security men had to tuck away all the valuables. Gosia frets because she can’t clean the rooms as thoroughly as she wants to. At day’s end, we almost have to tie Freya down to stop her putting furniture back where it belongs. And our Poppy goes about looking like a thundercloud.”
“A temporary disruption,” Hannah reassured her. “If you have specific concerns, let me know, I’ll pass them on to the location manager.”
“To be honest, I expected worse. Though I did grumble t’other day when I got to Milver Cross and found the cars stopped and hardly any pedestrians allowed through. Now the paved walk at St. Anne’s church is covered over with dirt, all the way to the lych-gate. When it rains, what a mess that’ll be!”
No part of this commentary was unfamiliar to Hannah.
“And,” Jan went on, “when Martin’s away, those poor beasts are shut in here, or put into Ron’s quarters. Can’t have them knocking over any of that expensive equipment blocking the passages.”
Hannah, dividing her attention between the two dogs, said, “Martin wanted this house to become a film set.”
“If he didn’t hare off to Newbridge or London so often, he mightn’t be so keen.”
