Even used as he is to the crème de la crème, there’s certainly something, well, subtly, but all the same eye-catching about Ms Harriet Livingstone, Charlie thought. Why on earth did I promise to leave her alone...?
‘Charlie?’
He came out of his thoughts to find Harriet staring at him. ‘Uh—I’ve certainly never met anyone who works as hard as you do. You were still working at midnight when I got home last night!’
‘That’s because I’d like to finish this project before your brother gets—’ She stopped abruptly.
‘Before Damien gets home? Why?’ he asked simply.
Harriet shrugged.
‘His bark is a lot worse than his bite, as I should know.’
‘It may be but I...’ She paused.
‘And you certainly must have made quite an impression on him because, believe me,’ Charlie said earnestly, ‘he’s usually intensely private about his affairs. I got put firmly in my place only a couple of weeks ago when all I did was mention Veronica’s name. She’s his ex-wife,’ he added obligingly, and waited.
I will not rise to the bait, Harriet vowed.
‘So am I—very private,’ she said shortly then relented as Charlie’s expression became wounded. ‘Look, it was just one of those...things. He got furious with me over the accident. I got furious with him because I thought he was arrogant and high-handed and it all seemed to blow up again into—’ She stopped and took a breath then said laconically, ‘If I hadn’t slapped his face I wouldn’t have got myself so thoroughly kissed.’
‘Slapped his face!’ Charlie was wide-eyed and incredulously admiring.
‘Yes,’ Harriet replied shortly. ‘Not that I’m proud of it, but he did call me Stretch, which is something I can’t abide. And that is the last word I intend to say on the matter. So, off you go, Charlie, please. I need to concentrate on this recipe.’
* * *
The studio that had been converted from stables was a pleasure to work in. There was plenty of light, plenty of bench space, a lot of shelving, a sink, even a microscope as well as a computer.
But, of course, the other thing that made Harriet feel at home was Tottie’s presence. The big dog became her constant companion. They went for walks together. They went down to the beach and they visited the stables together, where Harriet made special friends with one of the horses, a bubbly grey mare that went by the name of Sprite.
Stan, the stable foreman, offered to let her ride Sprite, if she rode, which she had as a child, but she declined and contented herself with taking the mare carrots every evening.
And there were other times when Harriet caught herself talking to Tottie as if she were human.
She’d wondered how Isabel would take this but it only amused her. ‘She’s always been Damien’s dog,’ she told Harriet, ‘but of course he’s away a lot so she doesn’t get to see that much of him.’
* * *
So far as the business side of her stay at Heathcote went, one thing Harriet had insisted on was a system whereby all of Damien’s mother’s treasures were dual-catalogued. In other words, Isabel handled them first, kept her own record, then handed them over to Harriet.