Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Griffen
I called Savannah on the way back, talking quietly so I didn’t wake Hope. Not long after we left Atlanta, she’d balled up her jacket under her head, tucked herself into the corner of her seat, and fallen asleep. Her face at rest was compelling. More than pretty. More than beautiful.
I’d told Hope the truth when I said she’d been beautiful without the haircut and the makeup. Despite what Edgar had made her think, she’d always been beautiful. Now everyone else could see it, too. She hadn’t looked like she was wearing a lot of makeup, but whatever she’d done had made her eyes deeper, mysterious. Her hair had a sleek shine it had been missing.
It wasn’t any one thing. Not her hair or her eyes or her full, pink lips. It was all of it together. Maybe it was just confidence from making friends and having fun spoiling herself for once.
I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Not really. What I did know was that, unexpectedly, I hadn’t wanted to linger in Atlanta with the people who’d become my family. Not that I was looking forward to dealing with my actual family. They weren’t scheduled to show up until Tuesday, and I wanted time alone with Hope.
Savannah assured me that things were well in hand at Heartstone Manor. I found that hard to believe. Not because of Savannah, but we’d only been gone a little more than forty-eight hours.
How much could she do in forty-eight hours?
I soon learned that Savannah Miles could work miracles in forty-eight hours.
Hope’s eyes fluttered open as we pulled up in front of the house. Half asleep, shopping bags looped over her arm, she followed me up the steps, blinking in the light as Savannah swung open the heavy door.
Here, things weren’t much different. The chandelier was still dusty. Everything was still dusty. Following my eyes as they took in the room, Savannah said, “I started with the living spaces. That seemed most efficient. Are you hungry? Hope?”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “You need anything, Buttercup?”
Hope slanted me a look that was partly disgruntled and mostly pleased. She liked it when I called her Buttercup. So did I.
“I’m fine, Savannah, thanks. Just tired. It was a long day. Good, but long.”
Savannah stepped forward to take the bags on Hope’s arm and finally got a good look at Hope. She stopped in surprise before breaking into a wide grin. “Hope, you look fantastic. Did you get your hair cut?”
“Haircut, highlights, makeup, and Griffen’s friends took me shopping. I got way too much. And I might need your help with the makeup tomorrow.”
“I’m no expert, but just give a shout. I love your hair. Is this all your bags?”
“There’s more in the car,” I said, “but I can get it tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s my job,” Savannah said with a smile. I listened to her and Hope talk about the stores Hope had visited in Atlanta and something about Savannah settling on a uniform for the house. The day was catching up with me. More than anything, I just wanted to be alone, in bed, with Hope.
I wasn’t planning on starting anything. She was obviously exhausted. I wasn’t much better. I hadn’t slept much the night before. I could use a solid eight hours before we faced the rest of what was to come.
I was lost in thoughts of the pile of work on my father’s desk—of having to face my father’s desk at all—when I walked into the master suite and got my first pleasant shock since coming back to Heartstone Manor.
Savannah had transformed the room. Hope’s living room was reproduced in the spacious sitting room, augmented by pieces Savannah must have grabbed from here and there in Heartstone Manor. She’d taken everything else from Hope’s apartment. The huge velvet couch, the side tables and bookshelves, right down to the stacks of books just as Hope left them.
Hope let out a gasp of pleased surprise and turned in a circle, her eyes wide and bright. “How did you do this? You even got my drapes.”
Savannah treated us to a smug smile. “They’re not actually your drapes. If you look a little closer, you’ll see these are a few feet longer and a darker shade of green. I found these in one of the guest rooms and moved them over here.”
I followed Hope to the master bedroom where, again, Savannah had reproduced Hope’s apartment. My eyes fixed on that lush brass bed overflowing with soft pillows and blankets. As in the sitting room, Savannah had found pieces around the house to fill the space, Hope’s small bedroom no match for the expansive master suite of Heartstone Manor.
What she’d chosen went perfectly with Hope’s belongings. A chaise lounge in red damask with a delicately arched reading lamp. A mahogany dressing table with tufted stool and three-part mirror. And on the other side of the room, a huge leather chair and ottoman with a side table perfect for a mug of coffee and a book.