Page 2 of Willowbrooke
The thought of leaving the firm was equally terrifying and exhilarating, but still one that kept me very motivated to secure the contract.
With five minutes to go until our scheduled interview time, I got out of the car, adjusted my blazer, and checked my makeup in the driver-side window. I attempted to tame some flyaways, before tucking my portfolio under my arm, and marching across the gravel driveway to the front door—not an easy task in heels, especially when I rarely wore anything other than my favorite pair of white sneakers, that couldjustpass for professional work attire.
The exterior was pristine, even if, in the gloomy weather, the house looked both formidable and somewhat oppressive.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed small signs of neglect, previous exterior renovations which had not only been poorly executed and maintained, but that had also compromised the integrity of the original design elements. But the damage I could see was only from the last few decades, as it seemed the home had been well-loved and maintained prior to that.
I wondered if the outside was within scope of what Mr. West had wanted to accomplish. As it was already late August, nothing could likely be done to the outside until spring, and it would stretch the project out quite longer than I had initially anticipated.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the massive wood double doors and used the knocker to announce myself. The heavy door creaked gently as it swung open a moment later.
I visibly gulped when I first laid eyes on the mysterious and persnickety Mr. West, who couldn’t have been much older than myself, much to my shock. Mina and I had frequently joked over the past couple weeks about what kind of shrewd, stodgy blue blood he would be.
But Leo West didn’t seem to be any of those things.
He was quite handsome, with perhaps an air of melancholy about him.
Standing tall in a crisp white button-down, with the top two buttons undone casually, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the hem tucked into his well-fitting black slacks, he left me speechless.
I don’t know exactly what I had been expecting, but itwasn’t him.
“Mr. West?” I questioned, robotically sticking my hand out to shake his.
“Leo, please.” He gave me a tight smile, assessing me as he shook my hand.
“I’m Penny Abbot,” I replied, feeling like the sound of my own voice was foreign, far away, and small.
“Please, come in.” Leo stepped back, allowing me room to cross the threshold into the foyer.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on the flexed muscles of his forearm as I slipped past him, avoiding eye contact and trying desperately to ignore the sudden flutter of a foreign feeling in my belly. Was it nerves, excitement…attraction?
“Welcome to Willowbrooke,” he said evenly, closing the door behind me.
I was immediately overwhelmed as my senses went into overdrive. I didn’t know where to focus my attention. A flurry of dust assaulted my allergies, momentarily distracting me.
Squinting to see past the dim light of the foyer, I was surprised that all the curtains in the home were drawn, making the gloomy morning appear more like dusk. The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, immediately making me feel like I was in a hospital.
I remembered Mina had told me while doing research on Mr. West—Leo—for her firm, that his father had passed away recently, which she suspected was the impetus for the project, and would explain the melancholy.
“You have a beautiful home,” I fumbled, trying to say something that would fill the silence. My tone might have come across as disingenuous, but I saw the potential all around me.
A grand staircase to my left led up to the second floor, and one of the past renovations had knocked down a good chunk of the interior walls, leaving the kitchen, on my right, completely open to a large living room and dining room space beyond.
If the curtains had been opened, it would have offered a stunning view of the cliffside and ocean behind the house. Absently I thought that I might be able to find old records of the original blueprints filed with the city, which would help with any required restoration.
In a rare moment of candor, Leo raked his hand through his hair, mussing it more than it had already been. The action seemed bashful. “It needs a lot of work,” he sighed. “Do you want a tour?”
I nodded and followed behind Leo as he escorted me out of the foyer. “The solarium and my bedroom are down that hall.” He pointed to the left, past the main staircase. “No work is required in either space.” He led me through the open living and kitchen space without providing any additional notes.
A sectional sofa that was too small for the space, upholstered with a ruffled floral fabric that was at least twenty years old, was the only place to sit in the living room.It faced the hopefully original fireplace, with a chunky, chipped wood coffee table standing guard between the two. Off in the corner was a bulky, squat TV stand, with a TV that was almost as large and almost as square, bowing the particle board on which it sat.
In contrast, behind the living room was a beautiful vintage dining table, with eight dining chairs neatly arranged around the curves of the table legs. That would definitely be staying, but it would have looked much more stately in natural light and with a fresh floral arrangement in the center.
Opening a door at the end of the room, he extended his arm, encouraging me to proceed before him. “The library.”
Again, the room was devoid of natural light. “Can I open the curtains?” I asked.
“No,” Leo replied flatly.
