He merely stares at me for a beat, his impassive face giving nothing away. Then he turns and walks around the back to grab my suitcase. Setting it down at my side, he juts his chin at the front door.
“Mr. Taylor should be expecting you. He’ll be able to help get you settled in.”
“Oh… right. Thanks.”
He gives a small nod, then returns to the driver’s seat. A second later, the SUV’s retreating down the drive, taillights glowing as he turns onto the road and disappears among the trees.
For a heartbeat, the silence strangles me. The wintry chill in the air shivers through me.
I pull my coat tighter and start up the steps, dragging my suitcase along. I’m halfway up when the tall double doors swing open and a man is standing there.
He’s older, maybe early fifties, with dark hair gone a smoky gray and a blazer that doesn’t hide his short, stockier build. But that’s not to say he isn’t handsome for an older man—his blue eyes twinkle as he discovers me on his doorstep.
“Ivy Davis,” he says, extending a gloved hand as I reach the top. “Welcome to Silver Hollow.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Come in,”Mr. Taylor says, stepping aside. “You must be tired.”
“That’s an understatement,” I answer, tugging my suitcase over the threshold. “But I’m excited to be here. Thank you for the opportunity.”
To say the foyer is gigantic would be an understatement—high ceilings stretch far above my head, dark beams exposed to give more of a rustic mountain feel, and the space is full of greenery resembling pines.
There’s a woody, smoky scent that lives in the air as I follow him through the giant entry hall, and he announces he’ll give me a quick tour.
“I won’t waste much of your time,” he says plainly, a step ahead of me. “But I imagine you would like to see where you’ll be working.”
“Yes please,” I say. “The more I can see now, the sooner I can get started.”
He inclines his head, then gestures toward a wide archway that opens into what I assume is the rest of the home. I leave my suitcase in the foyer and follow him into the first room.
The living room is even more expansive than the foyer, with a wall of windows facing out toward the forest, glass panes divided into tall vertical sections framing the snowfall like moving paintings.
There’s a stone fireplace dominating one wall, its hearth empty and dark but clean. Two long, cushioned sofas in a deep charcoal gray face each other with a narrow table between them, the arrangement symmetrical and slightly impersonal, as if no one has ever curled up to fall asleep in front of a movie.
“You’ll primarily focus on this room,” he says. “It’s the space most visible from the foyer and the area we use for entertaining, when that occurs.”
“When does that occur?” I ask lightly. I’m being a little playful because the room looks more like a picture out of an architectural magazine than a space that has hosted actual guests.
He ignores the question or doesn’t hear it, moving instead toward the fireplace. “A tree here. Minimal clutter. Nothing garish. I dislike excess.”
“Oh right. Of course,” I say quickly. “Clean lines, subtle color palette, decor that feels seasonal but not saccharine. I can work with that. We can lean into texture. Metallics, warm whites, a hint of deep green?—”
“As long as it doesn’t look like a shopping mall, I’ll be satisfied,” he interrupts, his tone dry and uninterested.
I bite back any other commentary. “Noted.”
He continues the tour in the kitchen.
It’s stainless steel with dark wooden cabinetry, appearing in near-mint condition. I’d be surprised if anyone’s ever cooked in here or used it at all with how pristine everything looks.
There’s no sign of crumbs or the lingering scent of food. No mug left in the sink to suggest a human was sipping on coffee or tea and then abandoned it to wash later.
“I don’t expect you to work in here,” he says. “Perhaps a centerpiece for the island. Something understated.”
“I can do that,” I reply, still determined to make a good first impression. “Simple is not the same as bare. You’ll still know it’s Christmas.”
He gives me a sidelong look that’s difficult to read. “We’ll see.”
