The Edge of Recall Read Online Free PDF Page B

condescension. “And miss the show?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “What you find entertaining is frequently painful for someone else.”
    He turned. “Are you in pain, Bair?”
    Bair looked from her to Smith and swallowed his oversized mouthful so quickly, she thought he’d choke. “Not pain, no. But I’ve never been overfond of pastrami.”
    Tessa stabbed a bite of salad and turned to Smith. “Tell me about your design.”
    “Well.” Smith dabbed his mouth. “Mr. Gaston imagines it resembling the etchings he acquired.”
    “He wants to live in a monastery?” Somehow that didn’t square with a casino mogul.
    “A semblance, Tessa. Elements that suggest the monastic heritage of the property while remaining fresh and original.”
    “How are you doing that?” She just managed to keep the skeptical edge from her voice.
    “I’ll show you my conceptual drawings.”
    Her stomach clenched with the painful reminiscence of their heads together as he worked a concept, wholly caught up in the creative inspiration of his talent. Once he had it right, he did not like the plan to change. She pressed the memory down to where it didn’t hurt. “What about the landscape?”
    “He wants to keep the elements we discovered.”
    “So I’m doing historic landscape restoration?”
    “Well, there is the landing pad. Gaston owns a jet, but I convinced him a runway would not be realistic given the woody terrain. He agreed to helicopter access and originally chose the labyrinth field—until we realized what was there.”
    She tensed. “Because he wants the labyrinth.”
    “Oh yes. When I told him I knew a specialist, he insisted I call you.”
    So that was it. Not even Smith’s decision. Why was she not surprised?
    “You’ll need to determine an alternate location for the helipad.”
    She speared a baby spinach leaf, a mandarin orange, and a sliver of salmon. “What’s the acreage?”
    “Thirty-two. Much of it wooded. The entrance you design needs to make use of the trees as a screen.”
    That wouldn’t be difficult. Even the trailer had been hidden from the road. She wasn’t sure why a mogul and a model needed such secrecy. If they were in such demand, wouldn’t they build their dream home in a more chichi area, not the backwoods of southern Maryland—lovely as they were?
    Bair had nearly finished his pastrami—in spite of not caring for it—when Katy returned, hands on hips. “How was it?”
    He managed, “Good. As always.”
    He’d tell Katy it was good even if he’d hated every bite. Katy took his plate with a self-satisfied smile, oblivious to his bluff.
    Tessa handed over her empty plate. “He’s in a rut, though. I made him promise to try the pesto chicken on ciabatta next time. Don’t let him wiggle out.”
    Katy looked straight at her for the first time and shrugged. “Whatever.”
    Under Smith’s amused appraisal, Tessa raised her teacup. “What’s the timeline?”
    “I haven’t prepared the schedule, but I’m estimating four to five weeks for design, three to take bids, seven or eight months once we choose the contractor.”
    She sipped her tea. “How soon do you need my design?”
    “There’s some leeway on landscape. Why?”
    “I’d like to start by uncovering what’s left of the labyrinth.”
    Smith pressed the napkin to his mouth. “You’ll bring in a crew right off?”
    “Not immediately. I want to explore what’s there myself first.” Though usually she would bring in a crew to clean up and prep a property, she felt drawn to unearth some portion of the labyrinth herself. She wanted to grasp the mindset of the original creator, and how better than using her own hands to uncover his work?
    At the appropriate time, she would bring in others to assist her in creating the gardens, pools, and . . . helipad. But the labyrinth would be different from anything she had done yet. “About this confidentiality agreement—”
    “Not negotiable.” Smith shook his head.
    “You’re all