Secret Reflection Read Online Free PDF Page B

of morning blinded her momentarily. As her eyes adjusted she spied amud nest at the very top of the eaves, with a family of tiny birds fluttering in and around the opening. The sight, the simplicity, made her smile.
    ‘Pray, do not fall.’
    The words shivered through her, and for the merest instant she almost lost her balance before she thrust herself back inside, her heart pounding. Expecting to see Tom’s giant frame, Kelly was greeted by an empty room.
    After casually checking the closet and bathroom, she opened the hall door and peered out. Nobody . Drawing her brows together, she backed up – almost afraid to look into the mirror. But that too, reflected nothing out of the ordinary.
    Still jetlagged , she thought. The flight from Los Angeles had been a long one. Of course, I could finally be going insane .
    With a dismissive shake of her head she grabbed her magazine from the desk and headed downstairs for a leisurely breakfast.
    ‘Ahh, the beauty awakes!’
    Kelly found it somewhat disconcerting to find Richard sitting in the well-appointed kitchen, sipping tea. She had hoped to have a little more time to herself to soak up the atmosphere and do some independent exploration.
    ‘I thought Nancy postponed our tour until after lunch,’ she said after greeting him with a cheery ‘good morning’.
    ‘She did, but I had little else to do and the pantry here is always well-stocked.’ Rising, he took another china cup from a nearby shelf and placed it in front of the seat beside his. ‘How do you take your tea?’
    ‘Actually – I don’t.’ Yesterday she’d been too tired to remind Tom of the fact. She turned and gazed about the kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose you know where they keep the coffee pot, do you?’
    ‘Spoken like a true American. And, yes,’ he pointed toward a door at the far end of the stainless steel bench beneath a high window. ‘I think you’ll find everything you need beyond that door.’
    Richard was right. Behind the door lay a veritable treasure chest. Along one side of the long room were neatly stacked shelves holding every modern appliance known to man, and some she’d never seen before. On the other sat orderly groups of dry goods, coffees of various flavours – both instant and ground – tea, sugar, spreads and marmalades, cookies, and jars of preserved fruit.
    Grabbing the smaller of two coffee pots, she gathered the makings of breakfast. Between her upside-down body clock and only picking at dinner the night before, her ravenous stomach growled loudly. After putting on the coffee, she followed Richard’s direction to a small cabinet that held croissants, rolls and wonderful-looking tarts layered with glazed strawberries. After a short battle of indecision, she took one of each.
    ‘The croissants are better warm,’ he commented as she went to sneak a bite before sitting. ‘Microwave’s over there.’
    Obediently, she warmed the croissant and then lathered it with butter and marmalade. One bite told her she’d died and gone to heaven.
    ‘Good?’
    ‘Mmmm.’ She wasn’t sure whether she’d moaned with delight or groaned at the idea of becoming accustomed to such treats. At home she usually settled for coffee, and, if she had time, half a granola bar. Pastries were an absolute luxury.
    ‘You’ll find I usually know what’s what,’ he said with such a bland air of superiority Kelly had to consciously stop herself from reacting with her usual cynicism. After all, this wasn’t her home turf – that world was inhabited by blatant opportunists who played an ongoing game of power and manipulation, always assertive, never willing to give away the upper hand.
    She’d only just met Richard, and although she’d spent many years in the company of one particular English rose, she really didn’t understand the subtle cultural differences that made up the English psyche. That was one of her goals: to capture that personality so typically British, that her planned screenplay