He scoffed. “So candy manufacturers would have you believe. Actual science has debunked that myth.”
She blinked pointedly. “Okay,” she said, her tone implying he was being irrational. “I’ll pay you for them and eat them myself.”
“Good.” Actually, dark chocolate wasn’t exactly bad for a person if you ate an ounce here or there. Maybe he’d keep one bar.
“I just emailed you a list of things I’ve done today,” Winnie said. “Why don’t you check it and see if there’s anything else you need from me? If not, I’ll head home.”
Again, she was telling him when she could go. Irritating. “Why did you buy flowers?” he asked.
“Because they were pretty. I thought they would cheer the place up.”
“The place doesn’t need cheering up. It’s an architectural gem.”
She raised an eyebrow, but said, “It is. Even so, flowers make everything nicer. Again, if they bother you, I’ll pay for them and take them home.”
“And that bread? Where did that come from? I avoid processed foods.”
“I made it.”
That explained the yeasty smell in the air.
“Why did you buy cheese?”
“In case you had people over, since the weekend is almost here, and I know your family lives nearby. Maybe you have friends. This way, you could offer them something other than an asparagus stalk or a basil leaf.” She paused. “I also bought a few bottles of wine in case you did have company.”
He had no plans for company. Nevertheless, she had only started yesterday, and already his fridge was full, his house was clean, and his favorite alcohol sat waiting.
“Let me review your list,” he said.
“Sure. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water, please. You’re welcome to have some, too.”
“Gosh, thanks,” she said. She poured them each a glass from the pitcher. “Would you like a glass of whatever Brennevin is?”
He considered it. He did indeed have a long weekend. “Yes, please. Again, you’re welcome to some as well.” Drinking with employees was probably not a good idea, but A) she was his brother’s sister-in-law, and B) it was 4:42 p.m. He supposed she was off the clock, though they hadn’t discussed her hours or, for that matter, her pay. “What is your hourly rate, by the way?” he asked.
“Two hundred dollars an hour,” she said.
“Fine. Bill me weekly, please.”
She spun around. “Oh, I was joking, Lorenzo. That’s too much.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I’d guess the going rate is somewhere closer to fifty.”
So he’d pay four times the going rate and hopefully get four times the quality and commitment. “Two hundred is fine.”
“Um…okay, well, I guess you can be the judge of that.” She poured them both glasses of cucumber water, then took a martini glass out of the freezer, then opened the Brennevin.
A chilled martini glass. Very 1950s. He approved. “If you make my life run more smoothly, it will be money well spent. Please, come sit in the living room while I look over your list.”
“Let’s go out on the deck. It’s a gorgeous night.”
He didn’t like being directed in his own home, but she had a point. He took the water and the martini glass and followed her outside. The smell of the ocean and sunshine, the blue of the sky and the call of the birds reminded him why he bought this place. The cushions on the deck furniture were clean and plumped. More red dahlias in a vase. “I don’t want that vase being knocked over by the wind,” he said.
“I put rocks in the bottom to weight it down. Barring a nor’easter, it’ll be fine.”
