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“Just don’t ask, Lorraine!” I hurry out the door.

“Oh, I will!” she calls after me. “And you better send me those pictures!”

“Please do let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you while you get settled,” the butler says formally.

“I will. Thank you so much.”

I’m standing in the middle of the gorgeous family kitchen that’s flooded with light at the back of Harlan’s otherwise gloomy mansion, and I’m still having trouble believing this is real. And that I have a butler at my disposal, so to speak.

His name is Carlisle. He’s standing just inside the doorway that leads into the grand hallway in the middle of the house, having just walked me in. I have the key and security code, but I still rang the buzzer at the gate when I arrived.

It felt weird not to.

Carlisle formally introduced himself as he escorted me in here, helping carry my bins and cooler. He’s so nice. I guess he’s paid to be nice, but still.

I wonder if he knows I blew his employer in here this morning.

If he does, I can already tell he’s way too proper to let it show.

I also wonder what kind of gossip he has on Harlan. Though I guess there’s a zero-percent chance he’d breathe a word of it to me.

“Have you eaten lunch, Miss Monroe?” he asks me politely.

“I haven’t.” I glance at my phone and realize it’s past noon.

“I’d be happy to have Mr. Vance’s chef prepare a lunch for you. Would that suit?”

“Oh. That would suit just fine. Thank you. Maybe just something snacky?” I’m not all that hungry. The truth is, I’m too excited to eat.

But who says no to an offer like that?

“How about a charcuterie board?” he suggests.

“That’s literally my favorite, Carlisle.”

The man beams.

“I’d like a little time to get some cakes into the oven first, though.” I hesitate to ask, but Harlan told me to treat the kitchen like I’m literally running my own business here, and if—when—I open my own bakery, you better believe my girls will be there to check it out. “And also… I was thinking of having a girlfriend over to see the kitchen, and taste some of my test cakes. Would that be okay?”

“Of course!” He straightens, like he’s just been awarded a delightful task. “And will she be joining you for lunch?”

“She will if I tell her Mr. Vance’s chef is making it for us.”

“Wonderful. Shall we say two-thirty?”

“Two-thirty is great.”

“And would you like coffee, tea or wine with your lunch? Cocktails, perhaps?”

“Uh, yeah. Cocktails would be grand.”

“Margaritas? Mojitos? Mimosas?”

“You read my mind, Carlisle. I love all the M ones. Surprise us?”

“Very well. And would you like to entertain in the dining room? Or would you prefer a more casual setting, out by the pool, perhaps?”

This just gets better and better.