Griffen was at my side, looping his arm through mine. I tried to pull away, unsuccessfully. He shot me a glare as he said, “We just got here, haven’t seen much yet. Kitchen and dining rooms first?”
“Sure,” Savannah agreed, fishing her own notebook from her purse. Her kind gaze landed on me, taking in the flush in my cheeks and my wet eyes. “You okay, Hope?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to risk words.
“You’ll tell me if you’re not?”
I nodded again.
Griffen scowled at both of us. “I’m not going to hurt Hope, for fuck’s sake.”
Savannah only rolled her eyes. “It’s my job to keep an eye on you two and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Raising her pen, she pointed it at Griffen. “She married you to save this town, not because you’re Prince Charming. Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with treating her like crap because you don’t like how this all ended up. You got everything, including Hope. If you want to keep it, I better see her smiling.”
A laugh choked its way out of my throat. I yanked my arm free of Griffen and put some space between us. I was still too twisted up. Aroused, but hurt. Scared, but longing for more.
I wanted to be Savannah, years younger than me and bold enough to tell Griffen off. Bold enough to tell anyone off. She was Miss Martha’s daughter. She came by her ball-breaking honestly.
Humor in his eyes, Griffen said, “Yes, Ma’am.” He moved to take my arm again. I side-stepped him. I wasn’t playing the smiling bride in front of Savannah, the only person allowed to know I was anything but. Griffen’s brows drew together but he didn’t protest.
Good, it wouldn’t kill him not to get what he wanted for once, and we had work to do.
We started with the dining room. Aside from Prentice’s office, it was the only room on the main level we needed if we wanted to move in. Designed for formal entertaining, it was big enough to feed fifty, and every inch needed a thorough cleaning.
The kitchens weren’t as bad as I’d feared. Located in the lower level, the main kitchen was bigger than most houses, with two long rectangular islands, several commercial refrigerators, and enough ovens and gas burners to cook for an army. Adjacent were the butler’s pantry, the prep kitchen, and a room just for baking and making desserts. Heartstone Manor needed a cook.
Savannah was already making notes. “Needs a good cleaning—I’m already working on a crew—and someone to cook. You’ll have to put up with my cooking for now. Mom might chip in. Otherwise, everything seems like it’s in good shape.”
She opened and closed the first dishwasher, giving a hum of approval when the lights on the control panel came to life. A glance in one of the refrigerators had her wrinkling her nose and swinging it shut. Stacks of takeout containers grown pungent with mold along with half-cut limes, bottles of tonic, and four different bottles of vodka.
Sterling. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug her or smack her.
“I’ll get these cleaned out, make a grocery run for staples,” Savannah murmured. She scribbled on her pad for a few more minutes, then lifted her head and said brightly, “Bedrooms?”
“First, let’s check this,” Griffen said, leading us through a narrow hall off the back of the main kitchen. The hall opened into a sitting room with a narrow window set high in the wall. Despite the window’s small size, the room was filled with light. A small built-in desk with a corkboard above was against one wall, a comfortable looking chair and ottoman against the other.
Savannah stopped in the middle of the room and turned a slow circle, wonder in her eyes. “I forgot about this. We stayed here when I was little until Mr. Sawyer moved Mom to the cottage.” She trailed a finger over the dusty chair, lost in memory.
“Eventually, I figured you could move into the cottage, but I have a feeling it might need some work. And while you’re getting a handle on things here, it would be easier to stay in the house. Does that work?”
“Sure,” Savannah murmured as she opened the door off the sitting room into a decent-sized bedroom. Like the sitting room and the rest of the house, it was dusty, the air stale. Savannah turned another circle, her eyes darting here and there, the gears in her mind whirring.
“When I move into the cottage, can I turn this bedroom into a proper office and leave the sitting room as a kind of break room for staff? A place they can put their feet up for a minute without worrying about bothering the family?”
“That’s a great idea,” I said, thinking of the desk in the sitting room. Knowing the scope of Savannah’s job, that desk wouldn’t be enough. The housekeeper’s bedroom wasn’t huge, but it was enough space to add a bigger desk, file cabinets, a printer, and whatever else she’d need.