A Rather Curious Engagement Read Online Free PDF Page B

state-of-the-art Internet access and computerized files and worldwide video phone conferencing ...”
    “And you shall have it!” I exclaimed, making a flourish with my arm.
    “We’d have to put in better security,” he added. “I always worry about you being here like this, with only old-fashioned technology standing between you and the nutters. Not even a peephole in the main door to see who’s out there!”
    “Fine, fine,” I said. “Get all the security you want. But let’s also have a set of elegant, old-time intercoms from my office to yours. For when all that computerized messaging fails.”
    “All right, fine. Fixing up the townhouse is a good investment,” Jeremy said. “Let’s run it by the accountant.”
    “Oh, Jeremy!” I cried, flinging my arms around him. “What a great time we’ll have now!” I was glad we’d hatched this plot right here, with the aura of Great-Aunt Penelope’s spirit hovering. I figured she’d watch out for us now, just in case we ran into any, ya know, trouble.

Part Two

Chapter Five
    Now. If you ever come up with a great big beautiful dream, and you want to see it shot down right before your very eyes, why, just take it to a professional. Take it to a lawyer, a shrink, or, as we did, to a high-powered accountant.
    Martin-the-accountant’s office was in the financial heart of London that has all kinds of crazy new buildings, shaped like giant pickles or glass pyramids or dazzlingly reflective gold bouillon.
    Jeremy and I entered a building with a lobby full of gigantic real tropical trees, and we rode the glass elevator to dizzying heights. All the while, I had one person’s advice still ringing in my ears. Believe it or not, it had come from cousin Rollo’s mother, yes, the awful Great-Aunt Dorothy. She had contacted first Jeremy, and then me, and told each of us to please remember one thing: “Capital, my dear child, must never be invaded.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked Jeremy as the glass elevator took us sailing up into the stratosphere.
    “It means you should never spend the original sum,” Jeremy explained. “Just live off the interest and dividends.”
    “Wow,” I asked in a hushed voice. “Can we actually do that?” In the past, any interest I earned in my pitiful savings account was so tiny that the guy who did my taxes used to laugh himself into fits in April, when I gave him my annual total in scant dollars and cents to report as “additional income.”
    “We’ll see. I must admit, the old crone gave us good advice,” Jeremy said wryly.
    “Why should Dorothy suddenly take it into her head to give us good advice?” I asked suspiciously. Dorothy was the “blue-blooded American” who’d married Great-Uncle Roland, the brother of my Grandmother and Great-Aunt Penelope. She was hanging on to every tuppence she had, even refusing to give any to her own son—so Rollo was “running through” whatever he’d inherited from his father, which was doled out by an estate lawyer in controlled monthly payments.
    “She probably wants to make sure we don’t spend all that lovely money before she can figure out another way to siphon it off into Rollo’s treasure chest,” Jeremy replied. He turned to me now, very serious. “Penny,” he said, “you can change your mind about sharing everything we inherited fifty-fifty. By rights, most of Aunt Pen’s estate is yours.”
    “No,” I said positively. “You read her letter. She clearly wanted us to put our heads together and figure out what we thought was best. And after all, the painting originally came from your ancestors, before it was entrusted to her. Obviously she wanted us to trust each other, so it makes sense to put it all into a joint trust .” I grinned. “Unless you want to renege on sharing your villa with me.”
    “Idiot,” he said. “All right, then. We’ll put everything together and reap the rewards. We’ll just make sure we protect you. I have some