Tangled Ashes Read Online Free PDF Page A

of her voice.
    “This evening,” Beck repeated into the phone, doing a perfect imitation of Thérèse’s snippy tone.
    “He’ll fill you in. Listen, you’re not supposed to have the whole project finished by April. He’s pretty adamant about having a reception for his wife on the ground floor and portraits taken on the staircase, but the rest of the work can take longer. And if you can’t get it all done in the time you’ve got, you can pass it off to someone else when you leave.”
    “Portraits?”
    “Yeah. You know—pictures.”
    “I’m going to work myself ragged to get a castle ready for a rich woman’s portraits?”
    “So the change of time zone hasn’t improved your disposition.”
    “Gary.” There was a warning in Beck’s voice.
    “He’s turning the castle into an exclusive restaurant and hotel. The party and portraits are just an afterthought.”
    “This is a massive project, Gary. This place is older than America.”
    “And we’ve sent Rambo to beat it into shape.”
    “Not funny.”
    “Not in the least.”
    “I’m going to need some extra help on this one.”
    “Talk to Fallon. I’m just the architect on this project. If you want to redesign the floor plan, I can help you with that. Otherwise, this one’s all yours.”
    Beck looked around the diminutive office and took stock of the high ceiling, the ornate molding, the ancient wallpaper, and the hardwood floor.
    “Still there?” came Gary’s voice.
    “Yeah.” He stood up, the phone in his hand, and turned to look out the window. In the small river below, a handful of ducks paddled lazily around a pint-size island. “What have you gotten me into, Gary?”
    “Change. That’s what. Change of scenery. Change of focus. And if we’re lucky, change of attitude.”
    “You’re a moron.”
    “And as an equal partner, I’m a moron with clout. So stop your whining and get to planning your project. Remember that the only alternative to France is Doofus Anonymous.”
    Beck sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll do what I can,” he conceded.
    “Attaboy.”

    After Becker retrieved his suitcases from Thérèse’s car, she led him to his quarters.
    “Monsieur Fallon will take you on a tour du propriétaire when he arrives,” she said as she preceded him down the long hallway leading from the second-floor office through the north wing of the castle. On one side was a series of closed doors, and on the other was a long row of windows, paint peeling and putty crumbling. Some of the windowpanes had been broken and now sported roughly cut pieces of plastic to keep the elements out. Beyond the windows was a view of the castle’s back acres, a large clearing that led into dense woods. Thérèse paused when she saw Beck stop to take in the sights.
    “Not much to look at right now,” she said, scanning the flat expanse that extended out of the V formed by the castle’s two wings, “but back in the seventeenth century, there were eight elaborately designed flower beds back here. A sort of mini Versailles, if you wish.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Pictures in the mairie .”
    “Next thing I know, Fallon’s going to be wanting me to restore the gardens, too.”
    Thérèse smiled a little wistfully, her eyes still on the darkening property. “Wouldn’t that just be sublime?”
    When they arrived at the end of the hallway, Thérèse led him down a narrow wooden staircase near the castle’s north tower to a small apartment that extended out a half story lower. Someone had tried to clean up the space by scrubbing the floors and clearing the cobwebs, but it still looked like it had been uninhabited for decades. Thérèse opened the doors to each room as they passed. All three faced different directions, and none of them gave any particular clues as to their former use.
    “We set up your bed in this one,” Thérèse said, motioning into a bedroom that faced the stables and the large circular drive at the front of