“We’ve finished what we can. Some of the rooms have been transformed. The walls have been white washed, and you should see what Flick’s done with the bits of furniture left behind. It’s surprising what you can do with a few tins of chalk paint.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Problem?”
Nate gave her a knowing look. He could see she was weighing him up, deciding whether or not to trust him.
She sighed. “I keep wondering if she’s made the right decision, that’s all.”
“You don’t think she should sell?”
“No, it’s not that. According to her, she doesn’t really have a choice.”
Nate watched Brenda take another drink.
“I’m probably being daft, but we’ve only been here two minutes and it feels a bit, well, rash, I suppose. And disrespectful.”
“To her dad?”
Brenda nodded. “And I know she’s thinking the same, even if she won’t admit it.”
“She’s bound to feel a bit ambiguous, but I’m guessing she knows what she’s doing.”
Brenda didn’t look so sure. “Does she? She’s been through so much, I have to wonder if she’s thinking straight. First losing her dad and then Matthew, although the less said about him the better… It’s a lot to deal with. I’m beginning to wonder if I should have waited a bit longer before bringing her here.”
Nate wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. “Things might have still turned out the same. Renovating a chateau is a big responsibility. And costly.”
“Tell me about it.” She fell quiet for a moment. “I just can’t help thinking that once of a day she’d have loved the chance to try something new and exciting. And let’s face it, you can’t get much more exciting than owning a place like that.”
Nate had to agree. Although as he listened, he appreciated her daughter’s quandary. The chateau did, indeed, provide Flick with a myriad of opportunities. And yes, she had been quick to make her decision, a decision she may well come to regret at some point in the future. But from what Flick had said she didn’t exactly have the means to turn the chateau around, which in her view clearly meant there was no point in trying. Not that he was prepared to remind anyone of this. When it came to mother and daughter relations, no way was he going to take sides, even if that little voice of his wanted to.
“Anyway,” Flick’s mother said, as if sensing his caution on the matter. “Tell me about you. What brought you here?”
The sudden change in subject surprised Nate. Usually quite prepared when it came to these kinds of questions, words suddenly failed him. He tried to appear laid-back as he took a sip of his drink. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his past and her enquiry felt too close for comfort.
“Living in the middle of a forest must be a far cry from life back in England. I mean what do you do all day?” Brenda continued. “When you’re not cutting down trees.”
Nate studied her for a moment, watching her gently stroke Rufus’s ears as she waited for Nate to answer. She didn’t appear to be probing and determining she was only making conversation, he decided there was no need to panic. Still, better to keep any chit-chat in the present, he reasoned, rather than to let it drift back into the past. And what better way to do that than to show her exactly how he spent his time. “You really want to know?” he asked, more than happy to oblige.
Brenda nodded.
He downed the rest of his drink and putting his mug down, rose to his feet. “Then follow me.”
15
Ensuring Rufus stayed indoors, Nate led Brenda outside to a wooden outbuilding. He could see Brenda was intrigued, her eyes widening as he opened the door so she could step inside.
“Wow! These are gorgeous.” She turned to look at him. “You made them?”
“I certainly did.”
She took in the tools of his trade, mainly chainsaws, chainsaw bars, angle grinders and the generator he used to run them. “With those?”
“Yep.”
Able to relax again, he smiled at her awe as she looked back at his handiwork, focusing first on the beady-eyed owl sitting on a log and then the cuddly brown bear that had caught a salmon with its fishing cane. “They’re so beautiful,” she said, approaching another of his pieces, this one the bust of a horse. She reached out, her fingers stroking the long mane that twisted from the back of the horse’s head, round to the front and down its chest. “And very life like.”
Nate appreciated the compliment. “I should hope so after the amount of effort that went into them.”
