Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(36)

"Annabelle Wright?" A distinguished older man in a pinstripe suit strolled up the sidewalk.



       
         
       
        

She nodded, fighting back a yawn. She'd driven straight through the night from Dallas to New Orleans. Managing eight hours on largely empty roads with no sleep hadn't been easy, but she'd had her will to keep her going.

After she'd forwarded the notes to Tate and sent her resignation letter to the office via fax, which should be monitored by the intern, she'd loaded up Kinley's car and driven through the darkness with Sir, trying not to think about the fact that she could still feel her former bosses' hands on her. She probably always would, but now she had a new future to focus on, one that didn't include them.

"Yes, I'm Annabelle Wright. Are you my grandmother's lawyer?"

The man looked to be roughly fifty, given his silvery sideburns, but otherwise in good shape. He nodded and carried his briefcase up the walk. "I'm Malcolm Gates. I've been handling your grandmother's legal issues for the last twenty years. She was with my father before that. Welcome to New Orleans."

He had a lyrical, flowing accent. N'awlins, he'd said.

Her father had grown up in the city, but she didn't remember him with such a thick accent. She'd had family here for years, but had never visited. The way she'd heard it, this city was almost an alien world. Her drive in had confirmed that fact in some ways, but been an amazing revelation in others. She found it beautiful, odd, and more than a tad mysterious. She had a feeling she was going to like the city and spend a lot of time learning its heartbeat.

She could definitely make a fresh start in New Orleans.

He did the gentleman thing and took her suitcase, then led her through a wrought iron gate.

"Where are we going? Isn't the front door that blue one?" She pointed to the entry facing the street at the front of the house, complete with a ratty old screen door.

"No, that was for servants and leads to the butler's pantry and kitchen. The entry would have been more private and built before air conditioning with maximum shade in mind. It's this way." He wended his way into an amazing atrium-style courtyard.

Fountains and old brick, a lovely terrace with lush foliage everywhere made her drop her jaw. This was an amazing oasis in the heart of the city.

"If you don't mind me saying so, you look an awful lot like your grandmother. Even at her advanced age, she was still one of the loveliest women in New Orleans. When the mood struck her, she would set up a table in the Square and read palms all afternoon. I think the men came to her because she was so beautiful."

Belle reared back. "My grandmother was a palm reader?"

Was that the "tainted" life her father had objected to? 

A little smile played at the corner of his lips as he ushered her forward. "She was a psychic, one of the best. I never could understand how she handled living here, but she loved it." As they stepped onto a wide flagstone patio with a quaint white table and chairs, surrounded by a lush Eden of color, he placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "You know, the house has been vacant for some time. It will be dirty. I can have it cleaned before you take possession."

Right now, she just wanted inside so she could cry in private and sleep. She'd find the ice cream to drown her sorrows later.

"I'll take care of that myself." Later. "But thank you."

"Well, then …  I have some good news for you. I've lined up a buyer for the place. One point two million, no repairs required. He'll take the property as is. I think you'll agree that's a very good deal."

She didn't know exactly what the place was worth, but just a glance at the wide house with its expansive grounds, the adjacent guest house, and the property's prime location on Dauphin Street told her it had to be worth far more. The square footage must be four thousand feet. True, she didn't know how much repair the place needed, but she wasn't looking for an easy sale. She wanted to fix something up and make it her own. This old home could be a showcase once she'd used her knowledge and creativity. It had great bones.

Belle cocked her head at Mr. Gates. "The will just finished probate. Has this buyer even seen the property? Has it been appraised recently? This is really sudden."

"I understand it's a lot to take in at once, especially after your loss. However, this buyer, a judge and a pillar of the community, is very eager. He's had his eye on this place for years. And yes, he's seen the home. He was a particular friend of your grandmother's. He tried to persuade her to sell for a long time, and with Marie now gone, he's eager to restore the property to its historic charm. I can have that money in your account by the end of the day, if you'll send me your bank routing information. You don't even have to spend the night here. I'll find you a suite somewhere tonight and you can return to your life in Chicago tomorrow."