Jackson screwed up his nose. “You thought he was hot?”
“Heishot. That’s an indisputable fact.”
“Stop, you’re making me jealous.” He placed his hand over his heart as he said this, looking wounded.
I shook my head at him despairingly, but as we both resumed eating, I couldn’t help wondering if he meant it.
I kick off my sandals and untie my dress, throwing it onto a sun lounger as I go, and stand on the middle step of the pool. The water is cold so I need a minute to acclimatize.
The swimming pool curves away into a large oval shape, andbeyond its glittering water is a hip-height stone wall that runs in a straight line across the edge of the property. The wall is broken only by the pedestrian gate that accesses the footpath through the woods into town. At the other end of the garden is the tennis court, and set within the expansive lawn that lies between the pool and court is a stone fountain. The sound of running water mingles with birdsong as I stare at it.
The lady in the fountain has her arms raised sensuously over her head and water trickles down over her naked breasts, past folds of stone carved to look like fabric, to a circular basin at her feet. There are lots of art nouveau influences in the art and architecture around town. I plan to take inspiration for the rebrand.
Jackson returns with our drinks on a tray, his attention focused on keeping it steady as he sets it on a table.
“I feel like I’m at a boutique hotel,” I call over when I notice that he’s also brought out a mini ice bucket and bowls of nuts and olives.
He has his back to me, but I hear the smile in his voice as he drops three pieces of ice into my glass and says, “I can’t take credit. This is all Marcia’s doing, but at least I didn’t call on my phone and ask for it to be brought out like Chloe used to.” He turns around and does a double take. “Jeez, Gracie, you could give a guy a heart attack in that bikini!” he exclaims.
I blush and cast my eyes heavenward. “Mellie has accepted that she can no longer badger me into covering up.”
He blows out a whistle. “I’m not used to seeing you like this.”
“I’m all grown-up these days,” I reply acerbically, giving him a single jazz hand as my other accepts the glass from him.
“Are you with anyone at the moment?”
“No, I’ve been too busy at work to date,” I admit as I sit down on the step.
And then it dawns on me that he just asked if I was single.
“You’re not too busy anymore,” he points out.
I glance over my shoulder to see him taking a swig of his Coke directly from the bottle.
“No, this summer I get to have fun,” I say irreverently as a shiver rolls down my spine.
He chuckles and comes to sit beside me.
“Here’s to a good one.” He clinks his bottle against my glass. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses so it’s easier to maintain eye contact as I give him a sidelong smile.
“I’ll drink to that.”
“I know you don’t start work until next week, but I was wondering if you might come with me at some point in the next few days to take a look at the garage that my mom is interested in.”
“Sure,” I reply. “You think you’ll have better luck at persuading the old guy to sell?”
“It’s worth a shot.”
He probablywillhave more luck. Sandrine can rub people up the wrong way. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been embarrassed to be associated with her—the way she speaks to waitstaff is appalling. She used to terrify me, but she’s mellowed with age. Still, I’m glad I have until the middle of July before she arrives and starts breathing down my neck.
That week it’sblisteringly hot and I feel a bit wiped out after how hard I’ve been working so I’m happy to do little more than hang out with Mellie at the pool. Sometimes Jackson joins us and sometimes Albert does, but they’re both in and out of work so we don’t see loads of them.
On Thursday, Jackson and I go to visit the garage that hismum has set her sights on. There are a few old ones like this in this area, perched at the edges of cliffs with spectacular views. Some are disused, but even the working ones are pretty run-down.
From the road, the whitewashed building looks like it’s single-story—a long concrete rectangle with a flat roof—but from the side, as we approach on foot, we can see that the floor at our level projects out from the cliff and another story sits beneath it, accessed by a cobbled, weed-ridden driveway that shoots off from the main road and veers steeply downhill. Also visible from this angle are square floor-to-ceiling windows that run the whole length of the back of the building.
Whoever built this place certainly played to its strengths. The view is out of this world. It’s completely unhindered by trees or other buildings and faces the distant tree-covered mountains with the wide river down below, running freely and glinting a clear olive green in the morning sun.
