Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Not that these people needed the money.
Set your guilt aside, Rory. You deserve to know where you came from. And if one of these men chose to abandon you…well, he owes you an explanation at the very least.
I heard the distant ringing of the front door chime just as a little black furball in a plaid sweater came trotting into the room and I sucked in a breath, bending over and extending my hand as I called to the little fellow. He ran directly to me and I scooped him up in my arms and placed him on my lap. “Well, hello. Aren’t you a cutie? What’s your name?”
“Bartholomew!” Mrs. Bellamy scolded. “You bad dog. Scat now. Where’s Marta?” She looked over her shoulder. “Marta!”
The front door chimed again. “Oh, it’s okay,” I said, scratching Bartholomew under his chin as he looked up at me. I could see by his white chin whiskers that he was an elderly dog. “You’re a proper gentleman, aren’t you?”
He yapped once in response.
“Oh goodness. He’s been in a mood since his nanny went on maternity leave,” Mrs. Bellamy said before she called for this Marta again. “Where is she?” Mrs. Bellamy murmured. “Bartholomew!” She snapped at him and then pointed at the floor next to her. He looked over his shoulder at her and then jumped from my lap, his head held high as he walked over to her and lay down on the carpet, crossing his paws regally. “Marta simply doesn’t have the time to cater to him. I think he misses his walks,” she said.
Bartholomew had a nanny? “If you need someone to walk him, I’d be happy to,” I said.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask that of you, dear,” Mrs. Bellamy said. “You’re here to work at the gallery.”
“Yes, but I love animals. I left my own dogs with a family member and I miss them already. I’ve been walking Faith’s dog, Coco, in the mornings to get some exercise—I’d be happy to include Bartholomew. I could come by tomorrow morning at seven?”
“If you’d like to, you’re certainly more than welcome,” Mrs. Bellamy said. “Marta has a dog too if you’d like to take her along.”
“Oh, I’d love that.”
“Very well. I’ll have Marta have their leashes ready.”
“Thank you,” I said, my face breaking into a smile. I shot Bartholomew a wink and I swore that little dog rolled his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bellamy. There was a situation in the kitchen,” the woman who rushed into the room said, her hair in slight disarray.
“That’s all right, Marta. Please answer the door and then come collect Bartholomew.”
“I just answered the door but there’s no one there,” Marta said as she smoothed her hair quickly. “They must have left.”
“Speaking of which,” Faith said, standing, “we should go too and leave you to your afternoon plans.”
I began standing when movement at the window made me suck in a breath. I clapped a hand over my mouth as a familiar face peered in the glass, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of me.
Mrs. Bellamy sucked in a startled breath. “Is that Gage Buchanan?” she asked as she brought a hand to her chest. “My goodness, he scared the wits out of me.”
Gage knocked on the glass and pointed at me, mouthing something.
“Well, we’ll go now,” Faith said breathlessly, pulling on me so that I stumbled after her. But my head remained turned, eyes wide and glued to Gage. What was he going to do? Call me out here and now in front of Mrs. Bellamy? Call out Faith? God, this plot twist in our plan had really complicated things.
But I couldn’t let this affect Faith. “Mrs. Bellamy, do you have a back door we can use?”
“A back door? Why ever—”
Gage knocked at the window again, what he was mouthing now clear. Stay there. He disappeared, likely heading back to the front door where Marta would let him in.
“That man at the window thinks I’m someone I’m not,” I said in a rush.
“I’m worried Gage has a drinking problem,” Faith said as she picked up the bag of art. “The last time we saw him, he was running around half-naked.”
“Drinking problem? Gage Buchanan? Absolutely not. He’s one of the most upstanding men in Calliope—”
“Mrs. Bellamy, he’s in your garden knocking on your window.”
She frowned. “He did look quite agitated.” The doorbell started chiming. “And you do have to scale a stone wall to get into that garden.” She paused for only a moment. “I’ll call his mother. These things should be dealt with quickly and quietly. Turn right down the hall and there’s a back door off the kitchen that circles around to the driveway.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bellamy,” Faith called as we fast-walked out of the room, breaking into a run when we entered the hall, and swallowing down nervous giggles. Thank God someone was baking something sweet in the kitchen because the heavenly scent of sugar and cinnamon told us exactly where to turn.