Jo leafed through the file, noting that Fiona had done a lot of renovation work and interior design but that none of her projects had related to historical buildings. She chewed at her lower lip and deliberately admired the image of an opulent bedroom to be polite. In truth she thought it contrived to be both flashy and bland. Fiona’s style was in no way suited to Ladymead’s ancient quirky charm and eccentric layout. But she said nothing. Gianni’s sister, she reminded herself firmly, determined to make the best of their association and handle the brunette with tact. She was disconcerted, though, by Fiona’s very personal remarks about Gianni. That attitude didn’t quite strike the right familial note to Jo’s ears. In fact, Fiona’s stance put Jo more in mind of a woman hostile to Gianni’s marriage and his wife, a woman who was possessive of him because, for whatever reason, she had long considered him hers. Or possibly her late sister’s?
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’ Fiona waved and departed.
Jo’s phone rang as she was walking back into Belvedere.
‘How did you get on with Fiona?’ Gianni asked.
‘I didn’t expect to hear from you this morning again, not after the tone of your departure,’ Jo confided in a tone of censure.
‘I’m sorry. I’m too used to everyone agreeing with me and if they don’t I tend to steamroller over them,’ Gianni admitted tautly. ‘I shouldn’t have said that about the money.’
‘Why not? You didn’t say one word that wasn’t the truth, even if I didn’t like what you said,’ Jo conceded, striving to match his honesty. ‘Fiona? The jury’s still out on that one. She made a couple of snarky comments, one being that you’re not monogamous. But I suspect that she wouldn’t have warmed up to any woman you married, so I’ll give her a pass on this occasion. Perhaps she was looking at me and resenting me and the position I was in because she lost her sister and wishesshewere your wife. I want to be fair.’
‘She shouldn’t have said that to you.’ Gianni warmed her heart by conceding that point. ‘Fiona doesn’t have many female friends. She’s more a man’s woman.’
‘Didn’t need you to tell me that, Gianni.’ Jo chuckled, reckoning the short skirt and clingy sex-bomb top had told her that loud and clear. ‘But if she’s good at her job I’ll do my best to get on with her.’
‘You’re being generous. I’ll be late back tonight,’ he warned her. ‘But I’d still like to see you.’
‘Oh, by the way, before I forget again,’ Jo added, ‘thank you for that gate through to Ladymead. It makes it so much easier to visit.’
‘You see, I do get most things right,’ Gianni drawled rather smugly, and she didn’t pick him up on it.
Early evening, Jo went for a walk with the dogs and, on the way back, heard gales of laughter coming from Ladymead. Wondering who on earth was there when the house was empty and the workers finished for the day, she walked through the arched gate and into the front garden. There she was disconcerted to find Sybil, Trixie and Fiona Myles seated at the stone garden table with glasses and a couple of empty wine bottles discarded on the grass beside them.
‘We’re waiting for a taxi,’ Sybil announced with very careful diction.
Trixie tried to say something and then caught her sister’s eyes and just giggled like a schoolgirl.
‘Fiona called in and we brought her over to see the house,’ Sybil volunteered as a horn honked in the drive and the older woman stood up. ‘That’ll be us,’ she said and grabbed Trixie’s hand to urge her upright. ‘Time to go home, Trix.’
Fiona beamed at Jo. ‘I’m sure you’re surprised to see me here, but Gianni told me where your family lived and I dropped in to see them.’
‘It’s good that you’ve met all of us now.’
‘Would you like a drink?’ Fiona asked.
Jo walked towards the house. ‘A glass of water will do me. Alcohol would send me to sleep.’ Not to mention her conviction that drinking with the client’s family was as unprofessional as visiting the property without the owner present. Tact, she reminded herself,tact. She had to switch the water on and then run off the first discoloured gush for several minutes before she could risk satisfying her thirst and by then Fiona had joined her.
‘I’ve got so many ideas for this kitchen,’ the brunette told her, leaning back against the table and continuing to drink her wine.
‘My grandmother will have her own ideas, too,’ Jo warned her.
‘Oh, don’t you cook?’
‘Not if I can help it.’ Jo laughed. ‘And I’m not living here at present.’
‘Fliss was a fabulous cook.’
‘We all have our different talents,’ Jo responded evenly. ‘I wasn’t taught to cook. When I was home from school, my grandfather was too busy teaching me how to keep the accounts and how to nurse along our very basic plumbing system in winter.’
‘Excuse me, I’ve got something to get out of the car.’ Fiona turned on her high heels and staggered ever so slightly. ‘When I come back, I’ll tell you my ideas for the Great Hall. Get rid of those moth-eaten screens and the space will be transformed. More space...more light!’
Jo rolled her eyes, because the medieval hand-carved screens were a special feature of the house.
‘Let’s go back outside. It’s gloomy and dusty in here,’ Fiona complained, a large photo album in one hand and another bottle of wine in the other. ‘Where’s the corkscrew gone?’
‘It’s outside on the table.’ Jo was thinking that, by the uncoordinated way Fiona was moving, she had already had more than enough to drink.