Page 149

Chapter Twenty

On five, she stepped into a smaller, busier lobby, where a woman with flaming red hair and wearing a spring-green suit waited.

“Ms. MacTavish, I’m Adele Loring, Ms. Poole’s assistant. I’ll escort you to her office.”

“Thank you. It’s a lovely building, and an amazing view,” she added as the wide, sea-facing window drew her gaze.

“We think so. Can I bring you in some coffee, tea?”

“No, thanks. I appreciate Clarice making time for me, and won’t keep her long. I know she’s busy.”

“Always. Busy and tireless. They seem to be Poole traits.”

They passed offices—doors open, doors closed, and the productive sound of keyboards.

Doors stood open at the end of the hallway, and the wall of windows didn’t just draw the gaze, it astonished it.

They ran floor to ceiling, offering the sweep of the rugged, rocky coastline. It opened the room to the flow of bay and marina into the sea. And the sweep of boats—pleasure and work—that plied it.

At the large desk that looked as if it might have belonged to Arthur Poole himself sat a woman who carried her forty-six years lightly. She wore her dark blond hair in a short wedge that suited the diamond shape of her face, and a sweep of bangs that accented those Poole-green eyes.

She rose when the admin stepped in with Sonya, and added surprise as she barely topped five-two.

Sonya had expected tall and formidable, but the woman who came around the desk was petite in a pair of red running shoes and an all-business dark suit.

She held out a hand.

“Sonya, it’s great to finally meet you.”

Petite or not, the handshake hit formidable. “It’s great to meet you. Thanks for taking time out of your day for me.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Clarice waved that away, but Sonya knew when she was being measured.

“How about a cappuccino? I’m dying for one.”

“I’m not silly enough to turn one down.”

“Coming right up,” the admin said, and slipped out.

“Let’s sit over here. I’ve been glued to my desk all morning.”

She gestured to a seating area with a cream-colored sofa, two chairs the color of the sea, and a table that looked as old as the desk.

“First, Owen tells me you’ve settled into the manor very well.”

“Yes. It’s an amazing home, and I love it. I understand Collin felt an obligation, but—”

“No buts.” Without hesitation, Clarice pushed that aside. “Of course he did, and rightfully. None of us knew about your father, about you. I understand Collin learned about him, and you, from Deuce not long before your father’s death. I’m very sorry you lost him, and sorry Collin felt unable to share he had a twin. It must have been painful for Collin.

“Thanks, Adele,” she said when the admin brought in the coffee.

“We’re all pleased you’re in the manor, and if it troubles you, I can assure you none of us wanted it. It’s beautiful, yes, and contains so much family history. But we’re all very settled in our own homes.”

“I’d hoped to talk to you about some of that history. I’ve just come from seeing Gretta Poole.”

“Oh.” Clarice took a sip of cappuccino. “That would’ve been difficult. We’ve tried to take turns going to see her since Collin had to put her in the center. It rarely goes well.”