The grand tour continued for another thirty minutes, until Beth found herself at the foot of the staircase in the hallway. “And what’s up there?” she said.
“Private rooms, most of them locked up. Don’t worry, you’ll never have occasion to go up there. But if you did, then I’m afraid you’d have an issue with the owner. He stores many of his own possessions up there, and the contract clearly states that you rent the downstairs area only. Upstairs is out of bounds. He had that part especially written in. The owner likes his privacy, and expects his tenants to respect it.”
Beth stared up at the stairs, and shrugged. “He needn’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be running up those any time soon.”
“Er, no, right.” So far he had got on well with Beth, but casual reference to her obvious disability threw him. His discomfort was saved by a loud voice.
“Hello, Beth! Are you home?”
Beth recognized Miranda’s Chelsea accent immediately. “In here, Mirri!” she called. “The door’s open.”
Miranda Stiles flounced into the house, rushed up to Beth, and wrapped her arms around her, her antique pendant earring barely missing Beth’s eye, instead smacking against her cheekbone. Looking over Beth’s shoulder, Miranda said, “Hello, Jimmy,” to James Bartlett, who was watching the performance with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Beth said.
“And let you spend your first night in a strange house alone? Inconceivable, darling. Besides, I’ve brought the cat. Might as well get him settled in as soon as possible.”
“You’ve brought Teddy?” Beth said, and was thrilled at the joy she felt..
Miranda said nothing; merely smiled and winked at James. She had met him numerous times over the past six months; had built up what Miranda described to Beth as a deep, but totally platonic relationship. Which in Miranda-speak meant that she fancied him, but the attraction wasn’t reciprocated.
“I’ll go and fetch him in. I might be a little while as my nicotine level is dangerously depleted. And as this is a No Smoking house, I’d better grab a quick one outside while I can.”
“Take as long as you need,” Beth said to Miranda’s departing back.
“What’s the cat’s name, did you say?” James said.
“Teddy.”
“Why Teddy?”
“Because he looks like a teddy bear.”
“That’s a good enough reason,” James said.
“It is if I say it is,” Beth said, more kindly than the words implied.
“Better than Tiddles or something I suppose.”
“I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Come up with things like names.”
“Okay,” James said. “Who am I to argue with the author of such esteemed works as Passion in the Shadows and Love in the Desert?”
“Are you mocking me?” Beth said.
“Yes,” James said, with a smile.
“Good,” Beth said. “I can’t stand ass-kissers. I saw your face when I joked about running up the stairs. I’ve got used to it, just about, so no sympathy or embarrassment.”
“I did wonder why…someone…well why you’d need such a big house with an upstairs.”
Beth thought about letting him have enough rope so he could tie himself in knots but she was warming to him. “I was in a bit of a state after the car crash so Miranda did all the house-hunting for me. I wanted somewhere quiet, and she wanted somewhere that could be adapted to my current needs.” She indicated her wheelchair.
“She drove quite a bargain, but as I said, the owner was happy for the ground floor to be modified.”
“It could have been ten stories high and it would still have suited, as long I could get about downstairs. Now, show me my office space.”
“It’s through here,” he said, walking to one of the doors at the end of the house. “It’s not part of the open plan area,” he added, which was rather obvious, and pulled open the door. Beth followed him through, and stopped a yard away from a large mahogany desk. Sitting in the center of the desk was an iMac computer with a 27-inch screen, a compact wireless keyboard, and a sleek wireless mouse.
“You have Wi-Fi, so you’re connected to the Internet,” Bartlett said.
“I’m impressed,” Beth said. “At home I work on an ancient PC, and it’s clunky. This looks…well…fast.”
“It is,” Miranda said, wafting into the room on a cloud of tobacco smoke and Chanel No. 5. “I took the liberty of trying it out.”
“Thank you,” Beth said without sarcasm. She expected Miranda to look after such details.
“Don’t thank me, darling. You paid for it…but don’t worry, it’s written off against tax.”
“Where’s Teddy?”
“Exploring. I let him out of his basket.”
Beth wheeled herself back to the living area and called the cat’s name. Two seconds later a bundle of orange fur launched itself at her, and landed in her lap, purring furiously and pressing its face into her chest, demanding to be petted.
“Hello, boy,” she said, ruffling the cat’s neck. “I’ve missed you.”
“It looks like he’s missed you too,” James said, checking his watch. “Listen, I have another appointment so I’ll leave you three to it. I’ll drop by in a day or so, to make sure you’re settling in okay.”
“Fine,” Beth said, still concentrating on the cat. Finally she tore her attention away from Teddy and looked up at James. “And thanks for everything. I think this place is going to be perfect.”
“I hope so,” he said, and let himself out of the house. “I was worried that you hadn’t seen it before today, but Miranda was authorized…”
Beth waved her hand airily in front of her face. “Apart from being in no fit state to look for anywhere, I trust Miranda completely. If she said it was perfect for me, then it is.”
Moments later they heard his car start up and drive away.
“He’s not married, you know,” Miranda said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“And why would that concern me?”
“Oh, give yourself a break, Beth. You’re allowed to be interested. You’re not a nun.”
Beth gave her friend a rueful smile. “Might as well be,” she said. “When they told me that nothing works below the waist, they meant nothing.”
“Don’t be so gloomy,” Miranda said. “Things change.”
“I don’t believe this. Miranda Stiles, the born-again optimist? Is that it?” Beth said.
“Like I said, things change.”
“Well, don’t hold your breath. I’m not holding mine.”
Miranda crossed to the kitchen counter, and switched on the kettle. “I’m making tea. Do you want one?”
“No, but I could murder a coffee.”
Miranda turned, and smiled at her. “Coffee it is then,” she said.
They took their coffees outside to the veranda. It took some maneuvering but, using Miranda’s shoulder for support, Beth managed to ease herself out of the wheelchair and make it on to the swing seat that took up a third of the veranda.
“Are you sure you’re going to settle here?” Miranda said to her.
“I’m settled,” Beth said. “Look.” She started to rock the swing by moving her upper body..
“I wasn’t talking about the seat. I meant here at Stillwater?”
“Why’s it called Stillwater?”
Miranda shook her head. “I don’t know. There must be a lake or something around here somewhere. Ask Jimmy, the next time you see him,” she added with a knowing wink.
“Miranda, stop it. Nothing’s going to happen between Mr. Bartlett and me. At least, not in this life anyway.”
“But he is good looking.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t. George Clooney’s good looking, so is Brad Pitt. And nothing’s going to happen there either.”
Miranda sipped her coffee, and peered at Beth over the rim of her mug. “You know, for someone who’s made a fortune out of love and romance, you’re the most unromantic person I know.”
“I’m a realist, Mirri, that’s all.”
“You’re a cynic.”
“That too. Anyway, let’s change the subject. When are the publishers expecting the next book?”
“Last month,” Miranda deadpanned.
“Seriously.” Beth knew it would be a short deadline.
“I’ve managed a stay of execution. You have twelve weeks.”
Beth had just taken a mouthful of coffee. “You have to be joking!” she spluttered.
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it…but if you leave it I may as well start looking for a new publisher for you, because Kingdom won’t wait forever. And there are a lot of aspiring romance novelists out there who are just waiting for you to bow out so they can take your crown, and some of them aren’t half-bad…cheaper too.”
“But twelve weeks!”
“You can do it, Beth. I’ve seen you produce a best seller in half the time.”
“When I was well. Before the accident.”
“This is your opportunity to shine, Beth. You’re away from the city. It’s almost guaranteed you’re not going to be disturbed. You’ll have all day, every day, to work on the novel. It should be a piece of cake.”
“Says someone who’s never written a book in her life.”
“I may never have written one, but I can certainly spot a best-selling author. How long have we been together as agent and client?”
“Thirteen years.”
“And it was tough at first, but we soldiered on, papering the walls with rejection slips and laughing at the adversity. But I believed in your talent, Beth. I knew it was only a matter of time before you caught the mood of the public just right. And when it happened we were ready for it. You cleaned up, outselling Danielle Steel, and even James frigging Patterson for Christ’s sake. You can do this.”
Beth shrugged. “I’ll do my best.” She swallowed the last of her coffee, and looked out at the surrounding land. “Does all that belong to the house?”
“Yes, including the woods. Your nearest neighbor is over a mile away, that way,” Miranda said, waving vaguely eastward. “So basically, everything you can see is house property. Not bad eh?”
Beth looked up at the sky. The sun was getting lower but there were still a couple of hours of daylight left. “Let’s explore,” she said.
Miranda looked uncertain. “Are you sure?”
“It’s all right, I can wheel myself. Besides I’d like to see where I’m going to be living for the next year. You never know, it might inspire me.”
Miranda drained the last of her coffee from her mug. “Okay then. Let’s go.”