Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(61)
He let his arm drift back around her shoulders and promised himself he would get up and deal with his partners.
In just a minute.
Chapter Ten
Three days later, Belle shook her head at Malcolm Gates, completely frustrated by his request. "Didn't you do an inventory of the house after my grandmother died? Shouldn't her insurance adjuster have one?"
The lawyer shook his head. He hovered just inside the foyer, but he looked deeply uncomfortable. It was obvious he would prefer to be anywhere else. "No, Miss Wright. The insurance company only had a very basic inventory. Your grandmother scheduled her jewelry and her collection of antiques, but nothing else. I'm afraid for the judge to finalize the will, we'll need a complete inventory of the house. I'm going to send some workers in to do it for you."
She saw a truck pull up, searching for a place to park. Her electrician. She definitely wanted to see him. The lights in the house flickered on and off at the oddest times. But other than the man who would ensure her lights worked properly, she didn't need anyone else tromping through her house.
Updating a place like this would be a painstaking and delicate process. She'd pulled all the furniture to the center of the living room and covered it with a plastic tarp so she could paint the walls the quietly elegant color it deserved. She'd selected a warm, pale gray. She intended to strip the sage-colored paint from the gorgeous original wood trim. Instead, she'd opted for a crisp, clean high-gloss white. She'd also bought a charcoal and white drapery fabric in a damask pattern, as well as a soft white sheer that would peek from beneath the curtains, enabling light to stream in but keeping prying eyes out. A simple plush black area rug would ground the space, and she'd ordered lamps with the same pop of color in their hand-blown glass bases. They'd been a little bit of a splurge, but everything she'd chosen would coordinate perfectly with the attitude of the room. Comfortable but elegant. New Orleans glamour.
Now she'd have to put off the project-and starting her new design business-if she had Gates's interns stomping around and getting in her way. God knew what they'd do to all this original hardwood flooring. It needed repair, re-sanding, re-staining, and a quality sealer. Until she could have all that done, she didn't want strangers walking on them, much less moving the furniture or knickknacks around. She already had three men and an eager puppy who wasn't housebroken running all over the place and causing chaos. Even more distracting, Tate had taken up working shirtless half the time just to tempt her.
"I'll get you the inventory." It might take her months, but she refused to have others pawing through her grandmother's things and slowing down her renovation.
Since moving in here, Belle had become very protective of the woman she'd never met. She'd made it through half her grandmother's journal, all the way to her dad's junior high years. Her grandmother had written about how much "her girls" loved him and gushed that he was the king of her castle. So apparently, Grandma had run a business of psychics out of this house. Hiring only females had been fairly smart. Women tended to be more empathetic and in tune with those around them, so they probably made better psychics. Obviously, she'd run a lucrative business, too.
Belle loved getting glimpses into her father's childhood. The boy her grandmother had written about had been a happy kid. She'd even found some pictures of her dad tucked into the volume. In one, he'd been in overalls, wearing a goofy grin as he hammed it up for the camera.
She often thought that her mother hadn't smiled much since the day her father died. So much of her life came back to that one tragic afternoon. Her mother had given her food and a roof over her head after his passing, but Mom had been a ghost flitting through life, allowing no one-not even her own daughter-to touch her.
Maybe if she brought her mom these pictures of her dad she'd smile.
Mr. Gates frowned her way. "I don't think you understand how much work this entails. How precise you must be. This is a big house, and the job is far too big for one person. It would be so much better if you let me handle this. I'll have it done quickly, but we must have an accounting of every possession, down to the last piece of paper."
That seemed a bit extreme, but she wasn't an expert in Louisiana inheritance laws.
Belle sighed, heartily irritated. "Fine. Send a couple of interns, but I'll be overseeing everything. Thank you, Mr. Gates. Now excuse me." She nodded toward the electrician, a big guy who made his way up the walk, toolbox in hand. "Hello, Mike." She opened the door wider, allowing Gates out so the electrician could enter. "I'm glad to see you."