was wearing white linen slacks and a pink cotton twin set. There was a matching pink headband holding back her blond hair.
“Coming, my dear, coming.” He winked at Gigi. “I’ve got your nummy, yummy dinner here.” He brandished the Gourmet De-Lite container at Barbie.
Her lips thinned. She nodded at Gigi. “Thank you for bringing it.” She glanced out at the lawn as if trying to gauge how far along the men had been when Gigi arrived and how much she had seen.
Gigi turned around and looked, too. “They’re doing a good job,”she commented, carefully watching Barbie’s expression.
Barbie’s face became even more pinched. “Yes. Well. We had some trouble with our previous landscapers, and it took me simply decades ”—she drawled the word out slowly for emphasis—“to find someone new. You have absolutely no idea how much trouble it was. And here we were, stuck with this dreadful mess. It made me positively sick every time I looked out the window.”
“Yes, indeed, positively sick,” Winston parroted. Barbie shot him a dirty look.
“I’ve got my dinner now.” Barbie turned her back on Gigi. “Thank you and good night.” She nodded curtly at Gigi and grabbed Winston by the arm.
He followed her inside, stumbling slightly on the doorstep.
“Wait,” Gigi cried out. “What about the cottage?”
“What about it?” Barbie swiveled around to face her.
“I…I’d like to try to buy it.” Gigi thought of her last bank statement and felt her face getting hot. She really wasn’t in any position to make Winston an offer. But perhaps they could work something out. She’d had the idea while driving over. If he would agree to put her rent money toward a down payment, perhaps she could get a loan for the rest of it.
Winston wiggled his arm away from Barbie’s grasp. He leaned against the doorjamb and examined the fingernails of his left hand. “If you really want to take the place off my hands, who am I to stop you?” He named a price and then began a minute examination of the nails on his right hand.
Gigi gasped. “But I can’t afford that much,” she blurted out.
Winston pulled a sad face. “That’s a pity. It would bewonderful to have the whole issue so handily taken care of.” He took a white, monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly.
“I don’t suppose you’d reconsider the price?”
“No way,” Barbie snapped. She linked her arm in Winston’s and began to pull him away from the door. “We’ve waited long enough to get rid of the place as it is. It’s time we got our money’s worth.”
She slammed the door loudly in Gigi’s face.
Gigi stood at the counter and tore red leaf lettuce into small pieces before putting them in the large, hand-turned wooden salad bowl she’d bought in Bon Appétit when she first moved to Woodstone. She was creating her signature salad—a delectable combination of lettuce, chunks of tomatoes, slices of avocado, crumbled feta cheese, pine nuts, sliced red onion, black olives and plumped raisins—tossed with a dressing of balsamic vinegar whisked with extra virgin olive oil. Reg hovered underfoot, hoping for a treat. Gigi slipped him a piece of cheese, and he licked his lips appreciatively.
The sun was setting, creating a golden glow that lit the small kitchen with mellow warmth. Gigi felt her stomach clench at the thought of having to give it all up. The cottage had helped her grow whole again after her flight from the city and her divorce from a marriage she had been convinced was going to last forever.
She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t. Sienna was arriving at any moment, and she had more than enough troubles of her own. Oliver was staying in town for the night—again—and Gigi was making her dinner to take her mind off her problems.
She was hoping that it would help take her mind off herown troubles as well. There was no way she could afford the price
“Coming, my dear, coming.” He winked at Gigi. “I’ve got your nummy, yummy dinner here.” He brandished the Gourmet De-Lite container at Barbie.
Her lips thinned. She nodded at Gigi. “Thank you for bringing it.” She glanced out at the lawn as if trying to gauge how far along the men had been when Gigi arrived and how much she had seen.
Gigi turned around and looked, too. “They’re doing a good job,”she commented, carefully watching Barbie’s expression.
Barbie’s face became even more pinched. “Yes. Well. We had some trouble with our previous landscapers, and it took me simply decades ”—she drawled the word out slowly for emphasis—“to find someone new. You have absolutely no idea how much trouble it was. And here we were, stuck with this dreadful mess. It made me positively sick every time I looked out the window.”
“Yes, indeed, positively sick,” Winston parroted. Barbie shot him a dirty look.
“I’ve got my dinner now.” Barbie turned her back on Gigi. “Thank you and good night.” She nodded curtly at Gigi and grabbed Winston by the arm.
He followed her inside, stumbling slightly on the doorstep.
“Wait,” Gigi cried out. “What about the cottage?”
“What about it?” Barbie swiveled around to face her.
“I…I’d like to try to buy it.” Gigi thought of her last bank statement and felt her face getting hot. She really wasn’t in any position to make Winston an offer. But perhaps they could work something out. She’d had the idea while driving over. If he would agree to put her rent money toward a down payment, perhaps she could get a loan for the rest of it.
Winston wiggled his arm away from Barbie’s grasp. He leaned against the doorjamb and examined the fingernails of his left hand. “If you really want to take the place off my hands, who am I to stop you?” He named a price and then began a minute examination of the nails on his right hand.
Gigi gasped. “But I can’t afford that much,” she blurted out.
Winston pulled a sad face. “That’s a pity. It would bewonderful to have the whole issue so handily taken care of.” He took a white, monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly.
“I don’t suppose you’d reconsider the price?”
“No way,” Barbie snapped. She linked her arm in Winston’s and began to pull him away from the door. “We’ve waited long enough to get rid of the place as it is. It’s time we got our money’s worth.”
She slammed the door loudly in Gigi’s face.
Gigi stood at the counter and tore red leaf lettuce into small pieces before putting them in the large, hand-turned wooden salad bowl she’d bought in Bon Appétit when she first moved to Woodstone. She was creating her signature salad—a delectable combination of lettuce, chunks of tomatoes, slices of avocado, crumbled feta cheese, pine nuts, sliced red onion, black olives and plumped raisins—tossed with a dressing of balsamic vinegar whisked with extra virgin olive oil. Reg hovered underfoot, hoping for a treat. Gigi slipped him a piece of cheese, and he licked his lips appreciatively.
The sun was setting, creating a golden glow that lit the small kitchen with mellow warmth. Gigi felt her stomach clench at the thought of having to give it all up. The cottage had helped her grow whole again after her flight from the city and her divorce from a marriage she had been convinced was going to last forever.
She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t. Sienna was arriving at any moment, and she had more than enough troubles of her own. Oliver was staying in town for the night—again—and Gigi was making her dinner to take her mind off her problems.
She was hoping that it would help take her mind off herown troubles as well. There was no way she could afford the price
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