“Most of my life. When Miles inherited it from his grandfather, he retired from the Army and moved in. He hired my parents first. I was two.” Coop looked around the next room, a satisfied expression on his face. “His grandfather had let everything go, and it’s taken twenty years to get it this far. Miles had some pretty grand ideas for the place.”
“Lia, can I help?” Mellie skipped in just as my phone vibrated with a message from Ezra that she was heading my way. She stopped in the middle of the room and turned in a circle, her little jaw hanging open. Captivated, she went up to one of the intricately carved stones, intermingled with the regular ones that made up the wall, and ran her fingers over it.
I looked a little closer, scanning the room to see if I could make sense of their placement. Like on the library fireplace, they seemed random. I guessed it was meant to be artistic to scatter them irregularly around the room. Mom would know, being the decorator-type.
“Can my room have one of these pretties?” Mellie asked.
“I’ll bet your family will be living in the east wing.” Coop knelt down beside her so they were closer to the same height. “The servants lived in that wing.”
“Aw. Servants don’t get pretties.” Mellie’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
“Why do you think that?” Coop kept his tone serious.
“Lia reads me princess stories. Cinderella didn’t get any pretties, and it’s not fair.” Mellie, the little drama queen, leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
“No, it’s not fair.” Eyes wide, Coop met my gaze, his shoulders shaking.
Even after nearly a year, he made my heart go all twitchy. I captured the little scene with my phone.
“I think I’ll make my own pretty,” Mellie said. At the sound of the boys shouting and stomping their way up the circular metal stairs, she looked up. Grinning, she darted from the room.
I followed her and shouted, “Ez, Mellie’s coming back to you.”
After a pause, he called, “Got her.”
“What now?” Coop asked, coming into the hallway.
“We’re done with this floor, and it sounds like they’re taking the third.” I stepped over to the window to look at the garden again. Like the village, it had an “under construction” sense to it. “What were you saying about Miles being progressive or something?”
“Oh, yeah.” Coop moved beside me. “His father and grandfather had played the role of feudal lords. Miles wasn’t like that. He wanted to make the village into an attraction.”
“Attraction?” I asked, considering the word. “Do you mean something like Colonial Williamsburg?”
“Just like that. Wildstone has a hundred and fifty acres to work with, and we’re right on the border of the US and Canada, both countries with connections to the British.”
A rush of excitement flooded through me, and I pressed my palms to my cheeks. The style of homes in the village would be perfect. But had my father inherited enough money to do something on such a grand scale?
“My dad’s a huge history buff,” I said, “almost as much as he’s into building and fixing things. Him being the one to inherit this is kind of—” I couldn’t think of a good word.
“Serendipitous?” Coop sounded like he meant it.
“Serendipitous, yeah.” I faced the window again and leaned my forehead against the glass. “That garden is so beautiful. I can’t wait to wander in it.”
“I loved creating it.” He shifted, and his hand brushed mine before he shoved it in his pocket. It sent a little thrill up my arm and delayed my brain registering what he’d said.
“Youdesigned it?” I stared at him.
“It was my senior project.” At my confused look, he added, “I just got my degree in landscape architecture. For my senior project, Miles let me take the old mess of a garden and redo it, design and everything.”
“Since you have your degree,” I asked, “will you be leaving to go somewhere else?”
“Miles planned for me to be the head gardener for his ‘attraction.’” Coop reached up and pulled a strand of hair from my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek ever so lightly. “I guess it’s up to your father what I do next.”
“Hey, Lia.” Ezra’s head peeked into view on the curvy stairs. I jumped back, like a guilty little kid caught doing something naughty. “Dad texted for us all to come to the east wing.” Ezra disappeared but not before I saw that irritating smirk again. Punk.
***
When we got to the front entry, Dad had the truck pulled up to it and was working the mechanism for the ramp.
