Page 28 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Oliver stood on the landing that connected two sets of stairs leading up to the first floor of the house. He wore a thin, cream-colored long sleeved shirt, and his hands were shoved in the pockets of a sensible pair of black trousers. Jesse couldn’t remember ever seeing him in anything other than ripped jeans, although he had been too distracted at the pub to recall what he had worn then.

He swallowed, fighting every urge to bolt up the stairs for a closer inspection. Maybe this was Oliver all grown up. No glasses, smartly dressed and put together, but still as beautiful even after all this time.

What Jesse did notice was the difference in his face. He looked exhausted, his eyes marred by dark circles, his expression closed off and guarded. It was so foreign to Jesse to see him that way, that he hadn’t even realized how indifferent Oliver’s tone had been when he greeted him.

Oliver walked down the rest of the stairs as Jesse responded, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Quite frankly? Yes. I was expecting someone with a little more experience.”

Jesse had spent the last week obsessing over how this initial meeting would go. He had worried that he’d embarrass himself, or that he wouldn’t be able to maintain any semblance of professionalism while he tried not to make heart eyes at Oliver. He hadn’t prepared for the fact that Oliver didn’t even know Jesse was the one showing up.

He certainly hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that Oliver might be an asshole, either.

He briefly shifted his attention away from Oliver to Rose, searching for any kind of acknowledgment that maybe he had misheard him or misunderstood the tone. He hadn’t. Rose was silently fuming, staring daggers at Oliver from the other side of the entryway. At least he had an ally.

Jesse inhaled deeply through his nose and channeled his inner Charlotte. He wouldn’t give anyone here in this house or back at the office the satisfaction of watching him fail. “I’d love to walk you through our initial proposal and answer any questions you may have about that process. If you’re not satisfied, I’ll return to London.”

Jesse and Oliver stared at each other, a prolonged silence that stretched and filled every inch of the entryway.

“Wonderful!” Rose eventually interjected. “Oliver, I was just about to show Jesse the library, but I’m sure you can handle that from here.”

Jesse didn’t miss the pointed look she gave Oliver on her way down the hall, and Oliver didn’t either, rolling his eyes at her as she passed.

Oliver gestured for Jesse to follow him. They wound through a few rooms at lightning speed, not giving Jesse any time to adjust to his surroundings. He figured he’d have plenty of time to get acclimated, if Oliver decided to let him actually do his job.

The library was a moderately sized room full of floor-to-ceiling shelves of old leather and cloth-bound books. One small section in a far corner was chained, and Jesse made a mental note to pay special attention to the books that sat behind the interlocking metal loops. It was an uncommon sight in home libraries. In the center of the room was a small seating area, two couches with a table between, and a pair of wingback chairs positioned in front of a fireplace.

Next to the large picture windows that overlooked the lake on the property was a small circular table with two chairs. Oliver sat first, and Jesse joined him, sitting in an uncomfortable stillness until Oliver lifted his eyebrows in a clear signal for him to begin.

Jesse did his best not to stammer as he spoke. Oliver was watching him intently, those cornflower blue eyes unwavering and calculating, and he was working overtime not to get distracted. “My role here is to complete a thorough evaluation of all the assets on the property. I’ll establish an initial appraisal price, and coordinate with experts and historians on the more high-valued items. Once that process is complete, you will decide what you are willing and hoping to sell, and we’ll begin to line up buyers.”

Oliver nodded in understanding, his lips pursed as he seemed to consider what he wanted to say. “We have some original artworks that are heavily insured…”

Oliver looked pained as he spoke, and Jesse was starkly reminded that there were things he didn’t know. He didn’t know what was going on with the estate or any of Oliver’s motivations, but he did know that the decision to bring in Emerson couldn’t have been taken lightly. Nor would the decision to part, even temporarily, with the art in the home. Not for Oliver.

Jesse softened his tone and suppressed the sudden urge to take Oliver’s hand that was currently fidgeting on top of the table. “We can certainly explore loan options with museums or other institutions. Typically, they’ll cover the insurance fees for the duration of the loan. But Oliver, are you sure this is the route you want to take? There are plenty of other ways estates can earn an income. I’d be happy to—”

Oliver’s phone chimed loudly on the small table, cutting Jesse off. Oliver flipped it over and his body caved inward, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to keep an invisible ghost from reading over them. Jesse was stabbed with another instinct to console him.

After scanning the message a few times, Oliver straightened his posture and quickly stood, the chair wobbling in his wake. “I think that’s enough for today. You have unrestricted access to the house, and if you have any questions, please consult Rose.”

Jesse’s shoulders dropped in defeat. He scrambled for something to say. Anything to prolong their conversation. He wanted a second chance. He wanted to turn back time to thirty minutes prior, to two years ago at the race, to ten years, to their last moment in the maze. His eyes scanned the room, trying to kill time.

Above the fireplace was a colorful rendering of Chapman House, and Jesse noted that it was a similar style to the willow piece in the entryway. He looked over at Oliver, who stood there watching him, all notes of annoyance and aloofness that had plagued their conversation gone, replaced with sheer insecurity.

Jesse motioned to the piece of art. “I’m sure there’s a local gallery that would be interested in showcasing that.”

Oliver frowned as he turned to leave. “Your eye must not be very good. It’s worthless.”

Chapter 14

Oliver

Present

Oliver had been an arsehole.

He replayed every second of the day Jesse had arrived on a constant loop, cringing at his own horrid behavior.