Still Owen appeared skeptical. “We’ll see. If you need any help with the cottage, ask Wilko.”
She gave a noncommittal nod, doubting that the vinegary geezer would be willing to help her. She’d redo the cottage by herself and show Owen she wasn’t just a decorative piece. Why that was so important to her, she didn’t care to examine too closely.
Chapter Five
“Well? What do you think?” From his driver’s seat, Owen twisted around to gauge his sister’s reaction to the Kerrigan house. It was Saturday morning, and he’d picked up Natasha from her boarding school just outside Burronga for her first visit to his new home.
Natasha glanced about and shrugged. “Oh, yeah, it looks cool.”
Owen steered his car up the driveway. The house gleamed like a jewel embedded in a cushion of clipped gardens. “There’s an indoor pool and a home theater room.”
“Mm, like Gretel’s house, except she also has stables and a dressage ring. She invited me there next weekend, did I tell you?”
Owen suppressed a sigh. He didn’t like the way her lukewarm reaction to the house got to him. Part of the reason for leasing this place was Natasha. He wanted her to be bowled over by the new home. But it seemed it was nothing special to her because all her friends had mansions, too. One of the side effects of sending her to an elite school like Argyle House.
As soon as he brought the car to a halt, Natasha sprang out and headed for the house, leaving Owen to carry her oversize duffel bag. It felt very heavy for just a weekend stay.
Inside, she seemed more impressed by the soaring foyer and the sweeping staircase. “This is all right.” She nodded, twirling about as she inspected the crystal chandelier above them.
Owen dumped her bag on the floor and watched his sister. Sixteen and fast growing into a beauty, she had long, shiny brown hair, a pert face, and a slender frame. She also wore way too much eyeliner and mascara, and her hem showed off a lot of leg. He frowned at the skirt. Wasn’t it too short for a sixteen-year-old? He was contemplating saying something when Paige appeared. She had an apron over her jeans, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a rag and a tin of something in her hands. Natasha slowly stopped spinning when she saw Paige.
Owen made the introductions. “This is my sister, Natasha. Natasha, this is Paige Kerrigan, the housekeeper.”
“Hello,” Paige said with a polite smile.
“Hi.” Natasha waved, not paying much attention as she reached for the beeping mobile phone in her pocket.
“It’s Saturday,” Owen said to Paige. “You don’t need to do any cleaning today.”
She held up the tin of furniture wax. “There were some marks on the dining table from last night.”
“You’ve hired a cleaning service, haven’t you? Let them take care of it.” For some reason the idea of Paige cleaning up after last night’s party irked him.
“They start next week. It’s better to clean the wood as soon as possible.”
Now she was giving him housekeeping tips? He started to say something but was interrupted as Natasha whirled back to him, her face alight with eagerness. “Can Gretel come over this afternoon? She wants to see my room.” She beamed a winning grin at him. “Pleeeze?”
Owen sighed. He’d been looking forward to spending time with his sister, but he guessed sixteen-year-olds had other priorities. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Natasha squealed, shot off a reply on her phone, then looped her arm through Owen’s. “Show me my room.” She dragged him to the staircase. “I hope it has an en suite bathroom and a nice view and lots of closet space” Pausing, she glanced at her weekend bag still on the floor and then at Paige. “Oh, Paige, would you mind”
Paige blinked, looking puzzled for a moment before a faint blush rose in her cheeks. “Of course,” she murmured, moving toward the bag.
Before she reached it, Owen had already scooped it up. “Got it.” He tugged at Natasha’s sleeve. “Your room’s this way.” He couldn’t get his sister away from Paige fast enough. He was embarrassed, he realized. Embarrassed at how Natasha was treating Paige.
“You do know who Paige is, don’t you?” he asked when they were alone upstairs. “She used to live in this house with her parents when Dad was the caretaker, remember?”
“Oh, right” Natasha nodded. “I thought she looked a bit funny for a housekeeper. But how come she’s working for you now? Did she lose all her money?”
“Something like that.”
“That sucks.” Any other opinion Natasha might have had was lost as they entered her bedroom and she let out a squawk of delight. She rushed about, inspecting every corner of her new domain, while Owen watched with a smile, gratified by her response. “Not bad, not bad at all,” she pronounced, bouncing up and down on the sleigh bed that she’d requested. “It’s just as big as Gretel’s room.”
Owen was fast growing tired of that girl’s name. “Why am I hearing so much about this Gretel? What happened to your old friends?”
“I still see them now and then.” Natasha waved her hand. “But I don’t have much time since Gretel and I started hanging out.” She burbled on about her new friend for what felt like an hour to Owen. From what he could determine, Gretel was a kingpin in the dynamics of the boarding school, and to be allowed into her inner orbit was a real honor. He didn’t like the sound of Gretel but held his tongue, unwilling to criticize too early.
“I gotta sort out my clothes!” Natasha unzipped her duffel bag and pulled out a plastic bag bulging with garments. “Is Paige still downstairs? I need this laundry done in a hurry.”
Owen straightened up from the wall he’d been leaning against. “If you’re in a hurry, you can do it yourself. The laundry room is downstairs next to the kitchen.”
“But I don’t have time and I don’t know how,” Natasha wailed. “And why hire a housekeeper if you’re not going to use her?”
Was his sister turning into a spoiled brat? Owen tried to check his rising temper. “Come on, Natasha. It’s not hard doing your own laundry. I’ll show you how to use the washing machine.”
“Do I have to?” She huffed before she realized Owen wasn’t kidding. “Oh, all right,” she grumped, heaving the bag of dirty clothes into her arms.
In the laundry room she followed his instructions, looking bored and impatient, but afterward when he showed her the rest of the house, including the conservatory housing the pool, she perked up.
“Nice.” Natasha nodded her approval with the pool. “I can wear my new bikini.”
“I don’t want any wild parties in here,” Owen said quickly, imagining the conservatory teeming with rowdy teenagers, but at his sister’s crestfallen expression he relented. He wanted her to have friends over, and the pool house was made for entertaining. He added, “At least, not until I’ve met a few of your friends.”
“Oh, you’ll like Gretel,” she replied with supreme confidence. “Everyone does.”
I’m not everyone. Owen tried to tamp down his reaction. Why was he being such a grouch? He’d always wanted the best for his little sister. She’d had it tough growing up without their mother and then losing their dad when she was ten. Their dad’s cousin had looked after her because Owen was working crazy hours in Sydney and in no position to take care of her, but he’d tried his hardest to give her every possible advantage. When she was fourteen he’d enrolled her at the exclusive Argyle House and paid for all her extracurricular activities like horse riding lessons and ski trips to Japan. She’d never wanted for anything.
And if she took his wealth for granted, wasn’t that good? Wasn’t that better than the way he’d grown up, underprivileged and yearning for what he couldn’t have? Wasn’t it preferable that she didn’t have to claw her way to the top? It was, he decided. Natasha was a great kid and a little spoiling wouldn’t ruin her.
Gretel arrived midafternoon. Natasha behaved like an overzealous puppy around her friend, while the perfectly groomed Gretel was laid back, unfazed by the house or Owen’s presence.
“Hiya,” she greeted him with a casual finger wave before Natasha dragged her upstairs.
Another pampered princess, Owen thought as he retired to his study to do some work. Another spitting image of sixteen-year-old Paige the way she’d given his jeans and T-shirt the once-over and indicated by the faintest of sniffs that they were lacking in style. Well, Gretel could eat his shorts.
He lost himself in some paperwork, only resurfacing when he became aware of the noise coming from the pool house, which sat across a courtyard from his study. Music blared, girls squealed, water splashed. It sounded like Natasha had invited her entire class over despite his wishes. The back of his skull began to ache. Hell, living with a teenager was proving harder than he’d reckoned. Priming himself for an onslaught of teenagers, he loped to the conservatory to find only Natasha and Gretel there. He shook his head. How could just two girls generate such a ruckus?
Gretel lounged on one of the daybeds while Natasha sashayed up and down in time to the music.