Ghosts of Winter Read Online Free PDF Page A

scent I’d always been partial to and hoped, as she glanced briefly at my face, she didn’t notice my blush.
     
    *
     
    Anna showed me the basic plans she had drawn up for the restoration of Winter Manor. She managed to do so with a minimal amount of architect jargon, for which I was grateful. She was unceasingly professional and sounded so competent I felt largely superfluous to the project. As she talked me through some of the more costly aspects of the repairs needed to the roof at the eastern side of the house—which, she explained, had to be in keeping with the original design of the property to meet the planning regulations—I found my ability to concentrate on her words fading. Her voice was strong and precise, very clear. It wasn’t a voice you would argue with readily. I completely missed the figures she quoted to me, but had faith Auntie Edie had more than provided for whatever costs were necessary.
    She packed her papers away in her briefcase, refastened her coat, and slid her hands back into her leather gloves. I walked with her to the door.
    “I think I know where to go from here. I’ll contact you when we need to talk again,” she said.
    “Will that be soon?”
    “Most likely. If it’s necessary could you come into the office in Durham?”
    “Yes, absolutely. I’d love to see the city anyway.” I tried not to allow the unexpected burst of enthusiasm that inspired my words to creep into my tone.
    “Will you be available during normal office hours?”
    “Yep. I’m not working at the moment.” Her eyebrows drew together slightly above the rims of her glasses, as though she was trying to fathom why I wasn’t currently employed. I let it pass.
    “Right. Good. Well, I’ll be in touch. It was good to meet you,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand.
    I returned the pressure firmly, finding myself oddly frustrated she was already wearing her soft leather gloves. I could feel the surprising warmth of her hand even through that barrier. It was odd she’d put her gloves on already if she intended to shake my hand. I couldn’t help wondering briefly what made her shy away from informality and flesh-to-flesh contact. I had to admit the air of mystery was intriguing. She squeezed my fingers in hers and we made the briefest of eye contact, looking away with an apparently equal measure of discomfort at the same moment. “You too,” I said through a tight throat. “It’ll be interesting working together.”
    “Yes.” The warmth faded from her eyes quickly, but a vague flush lingered on her cheeks and made me smile before I thought about it. She turned and went out of the door. I watched her walk, straight-backed, down the steps to where her car was parked next to mine. Her car was a dazzlingly shiny red Audi sports car. I stared at it and wondered how the hell she had so much money. Architects weren’t that well paid, I was certain. Maybe her husband’s income kept her in designer clothes and expensive perfumes. My stomach stirred uncomfortably with that thought, and I put it out of my mind.
    Several minutes after I had watched her car disappear down the driveway, I lingered still on the front steps, staring open-mouthed at the parkland in front of me, trying to comprehend the idea that it was mine. The bright morning light made it inconceivable. I glanced at the statue woman halfway down the stairs, still staring after her crumbled lover. I felt the moment I turned my eyes away she would be watching me, wondering. She probably didn’t know what to make of Anna either. “Morning,” I said to her pleasantly. “Interesting woman that, wasn’t she? I’m Ros by the way.” The stone face was unmoved. “I think I’ll call you Phoebe. You look a bit like a Greek goddess, you know.” She gave no indication if she approved. I heard the sound of another vehicle making slow progress along the driveway. The white electrician’s van pulled to a stop in front of me moments later.
     
    *
     
    The