Page 11 of Willowbrooke
“You want me to go down there alone!?” I croaked.
Leo raised a brow, biting back his amusement at my terror, and challenging me to refuse.
I gulped, nervous, but still determined to stay in his good graces, and made my way down to the basement, using my phone as a flashlight as I tried to locate the missing furniture. Sound was oddly muffled, perhaps by the stone walls. It felt as though I was in a different house entirely.
I thought I heard a scraping behind me, but when I spun my phone around, nobody was there. I was becoming desperate to find the stupid chairs and debated going back up and admitting defeat, when something touched my shoulder.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream, only to be met by laughter…Leo’s laughter.
“Oh, Penny,” he wheezed, placing a hand around my shoulder, pulling me into his side, in apology, “I’m so sorry.” He held his other hand over his chest, trying to slow his breathing. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What the hell, Leo!?” I pushed him away.
“I came down to help you look,” he sighed, still trying to get over his amusement at just how badly he had frightened me. “I’m sorry, Pen.”
But then a strange thing happened…I started laughing too. I saw how silly I was being, but it also dawned on me that it was the first time I’d heard Leo laugh, and the sound was simply glorious.
CHAPTER 3
Margot
The inspector recommendations Mina made came in clutch, as Joe Mortimer, the inspector Leo ended up hiring, seemed to have been an old friend of his Uncle William, another specter in Leo’s life I had yet to meet. William came up every now and again in conversation, along with Val the housekeeper, Carl the gardener, and his infamous Aunt Margot. Leo’s adoration for his aunt was hard for even his somewhat unreadable demeanor to hide. But none of these people had materialized in the house, despite my growing desperation to gain more insight into the puzzle that was Leo West.
Inspector Joe was as seasoned as he was salty and left nostone unturned or truth untold. While Leo winced at the prospect of having to redo the roof in the next five years, there were a few windows that needed to be replaced in the library, and Joe suggested he could make a return visit once the kitchen had been gutted, if the contractors had any concerns above their abilities. He also mentioned that we should be careful in the basement, but didn’t elaborate, at least not while I was around. Leo was unfazed by the comment.
Joe left with a spate of compliments about how well the house had been maintained for its age and a promise from Leo to say ‘hi’ to his Uncle William on Joe’s behalf.
The plan for the space was quite ambitious, but I felt it was well within my means. The kitchen would be the first and the largest job, with almost full demolition, new cabinetry, new countertops, new flooring, and new appliances. Leo had agreed with me to put a fresh coat of paint on and pull up the carpeting across the entire home with the intention of refinishing the original hardwood floors beneath.
The bathrooms would also require new cabinetry, tiling, and fixtures. If the bathrooms had any original features left, I would have tried to keep them, but the renovation in the eighties had taken out anything worth preserving. The one good thing was that I didn’t plan on doing any major reconfigurations. Otherwise, it was all down to details, like hardware, lighting options, soft finishings, replacing every single dust-laden curtain in the place, and my favorite part, the styling.
If only our other contractors had been as easy as Joe the inspector.
Leo and I spent a week interviewing the entire list of people Mina had given me to lead the actual construction that would be required for the house.
He wasn’t impressed with any of them.
While Leo remained impassive and polite during the interviews, after each was dismissed, he would provide me with a vague determination of why it wouldn’t work out: too inexperienced, too busy, not enough connections with specialty contractors, the list went on. The final straw came when our last potential lead contractor and Mina’s highest recommendation somehow agitated Leo, resulting in him ending the interview early and asking the contractor to leave.
“What was that about?” I sighed in exasperation, after escorting the contractor outside.
Leo’s jaw clenched as he poured himself a glass of red wine, something he frequently did toward the end of the day, although he usually waited until I was on my way out the door to break out his first glass.
“Well?” I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. Hands on hips, I blocked his path out of the kitchen.
“I don’t care to employ misogynists,” he said simply, circumventing me to make his way to the living room.
“What?” I replied, completely confused, and followed right behind him. “What are you talking about, Leo?”
Gracefully, Leo reclined on the new sectional, whichhad arrived only the day before, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, swirling the wine in his glass, but careful not to let a drop spill. “The lot of them spoke singularly to me.” He raised his eyes from his glass to meet my gaze.
“You’re the client,” I replied, still not understanding how he saw them as sexist.
“Butyou’rethe project manager,” he countered before taking a sip of his wine. “You scheduled the meetings, you greeted them, you explained the plans, our needs for the project, and answered every single technical question they had. It couldn’t have been more obvious that you’re the lead on this, and yet, not a single one of them spoke to you—the last didn’t even make eye contact.”
I could feel my brow furrow as I recalled all the interviews, running through each one, trying to identify any relevant exchange that had been made between me and the various men we had interviewed. “I hadn’t noticed…” I trailed off, realizing he was correct.
I sat down next to him on the couch. “I think I’m so used to people just ignoring me at the firm—it didn’t occur to me that they should have addressed me.” I looked down at my shoes. I’d need a new pair of white sneakers in the next couple months, the rubber on the sole was wearing thin. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
