“It’s lovely. You’re too generous.”
“Nonsense. You’ve had a rough morning. Are you hurt anywhere?”
Caitlin stirred sugar into her tea, then added a splash of milk, keeping her scratched hand in her lap. “Nay.” She took a sip and let the warmth thaw her all the way down and steady her nerves. Then, while she loaded one of the scones with cream and jam, she gave Alice the full story of the drama she’d just missed.
“Oh, no! How could something like that happen, right here on the square, and in broad daylight? I’m so sorry.” Alice glanced down at Caitlin’s hand. “And youarehurt!”
“Not much. A scratch.”
“Let me get my first-aid kit, and we’ll take care of it.”
Caitlin suspected she’d waste her breath if she tried to argue. Instead, while Alice fetched her supplies from behind her counter, she sampled the scone she’d prepared and groaned at the buttery goodness and the bright, sweet strawberry jam. “These are brilliant!” After another bite, she asked, “What do you know about the veterinarian who helped me? He said his name is Jim Coates.”
“He’s fairly new in town,” Alice replied from the counter while sorting through the first-aid kit’s contents. “Quiet and keeps to himself when not at his office. Ah, here we go.” She returned with a tube of ointment and a bandage. “Antibacterial,” she explained as she dabbed some greasy-looking ointment on the gauze, then gestured for Caitlin to hold out her hand. “Maybe two years ago he opened his practice. Pets mostly, and a few farm animals. He trains service dogs. Or rescue dogs. Something like that.”
Scratch duly covered, Caitlin thanked her, then continued, “I promised him a coffee for coming to my rescue today.”
“Good luck making that happen. So far, I hear he hasn’t been the social sort. All work and no play…” Alice got up and returned to the counter to put away her supplies, then asked, “Where are you staying?”
“At Hampton Dales. I’m appraising the estate’s contents.”
“Oh, well, that must be interesting. I haven’t been in town long, myself, but I’ve already heard the place is haunted or unlucky in some way. Everyone is vague. You know how rumors spread.”
Caitlin nodded, intrigued. “In bits and bobs, aye. So that’s all you know?”
Alice shrugged as the bell over the door jangled. The news about Caitlin’s incident had obviously spread. Several people, many of them nearby shopkeepers, stopped by to express their regret for her trouble and ask about her welfare. The attention embarrassed her, but Alice helped her with names and filled her in about each person after they left. Caitlin resolved not to share any of her own secrets with the chatty baker. No telling what she’d pass along.
Full of comfort food and ears ringing from Alice’s tales, Caitlin bid her new friend goodbye. She’d recovered enough to visit a nearby shop Alice recommended. It was a treasure-trove. A wonderland for kids of all ages. When she spotted a section of vintage board games, she knew she’d come to the right place. Ian and Lara’s twins loved word games. She found Scrabble in several languages and bought one in English and one in German. The twins would have fun with all those long, compound German nouns. Satisfied, she headed back to the estate, this time without being accosted.
* * *
After returning the car keys to Farrell and telling him about her adventure in the village, Caitlin decided the best way to put the mugging out of her mind was to lose herself in her work. She entered the estate’s beautiful walnut, bookshelf-lined library and looked around, bemused. How could Ridley not see what she saw in this house? She ran a cotton-gloved hand over the smooth wood and traced a bit of wainscoting with one finger. Either it had been well taken care of or lovingly restored. Shelves to the barrel-vaulted ceiling were filled with books. Old leather-bound tomes, encyclopedias, medical books, everything to satisfy a curious mind, including paperback romance, mystery, science fiction novels, and children’s books. Had Ridley lived here as a child and read those? Somehow, their presence added a more human scale to the otherwise important space.
She turned full circle, overwhelmed by the sheer challenge of this room. One more thing for her to-do list. She must find a librarian who could evaluate all these books. Or she could simply include the library as a whole in her catalog and assign it some fantastic value. Certainly, many of these books were costly, though many were clearly not valuable, except, perhaps, to a collector.
Another crystal chandelier sparkled in the center of the ceiling’s vault. There would be a record of its purchase somewhere. At least there weren’t any paintings to evaluate in here— the bookcases took up nearly every bit of wall space. Sconces above wainscoting took the rest.
She continued her inspection, crawling under the library table to determine its pedigree, overturning chairs and finally, approaching a massive globe in its protective stand. It didn’t take an expert to see the globe’s continents and seas were made of semi-precious stone. Old borders and capitals were picked out in precious gems and identified in etched, flowing, hand-inked script. The entire piece was breathtaking, possibly priceless, and belonged in a museum. Judging by some of the country names and borders, it had to be at least two hundred years old. Gently, she turned the globe, eager to see more of it. If she could determine its provenance, she could go online and find out more about it. Were there any more like it in the world? She’d never seen a globe so beautifully made.
And Holt Ridley wanted to discard it and everything else in this estate. She shook her head. The man wasbarmy. What would it take to get through to him? To make him see what he had here? Was he so much a product of this century that he could not appreciate beautiful things from the past?
Why did he hate this place so much that he couldn’t wait to be rid of it? All of those were questions she’d love to get answers to but were probably none of her business. Still, if she could somehow make him see what she saw, perhaps he wouldn’t be so eager to sell.
* * *
Holt found Caitlin in the estate’s library, notepad on the table in front of her and pen in hand, a camera beside a pair of white cotton gloves nearby. The thoughtful expression on her face as she wrote made her seem worlds away, and, given the way her gaze kept shifting to a globe in a stand near her chair, perhaps she was.
He didn’t want to disturb her work, but he owed her an apology for the way he behaved at dinner last night. He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe and then scuffed his shoe on the parquet floor.
Her gaze tracked around the room until it landed on him. “Hiya. I thought I heard something.”
“I didn’t want to startle you.”
She studied him for a moment before she spoke. “Are you checking up on me?”
Holt waved a hand. “No. I came to apologize for last night. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.”
“A jerk?”
