One Foolish Night
Page 47
Olivia furrowed her forehead. “It’s past ten o’clock. What have you been doing all morning?”
Instinctively, Paul’s gaze drifted to Holly, who’d heard the question too. To his surprise, her cheeks colored a pretty shade of pink. When he looked back at Olivia, his sister seemed to have noticed the short exchange.
Olivia sighed. “At least one of us is having fun.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder, where Quentin had started to lug one of the suitcases up the stairs. There was a yearning look in his sister’s eyes, and it made Paul’s heart ache for her.
22
“Jonathan, stop!” Olivia called after the little rascal, who was now charging over the terrace and into the house, while his parents were sitting on the comfortable lounge chairs, enjoying a late afternoon drink.
Paul jumped up from his chair, but Holly stopped him. “I’ll go after him.”
“Would you?” Olivia asked, relief in her voice. “That’s so nice of you.”
“Sure, I don’t mind,” Holly replied and walked to the door.
Behind her, Tara asked, “Who wants refills on their drinks?”
“I’ll have another one,” Quentin said eagerly. “Let me give you a hand in the kitchen. Paul, you want another drink?”
“Sure, why not?”
Holly charged after Jonathan, who’d taken off like a rocket, leaving the others to their own devices. She had to admit that now that she knew Tara wasn’t interested in Paul, she found the girl very nice and helpful. Tara didn’t mind helping out where she could and had even offered to cook dinner, but Paul had announced that since his parents were returning today, he was sure the staff would too. Which meant that the cook would be arriving shortly to prepare dinner.
Holly couldn’t imagine having somebody like a maid or a cook working for her. It seemed so decadent. She shook her head. Well, it wasn’t her life.
She caught up with Jonathan just as he set his foot on the first step of the grand staircase leading to the upper floor. “No, you’re not!” she called.
The boy turned his head, spotted her, and giggled, then used his hands to hoist himself farther up the stairs. But he didn’t get far, because Holly grabbed him and pulled him into her arms.
He giggled even louder. She lifted him up higher and spun, making them both turn like a carrousel, Jonathan’s legs swinging in a wide circle.
Dark blotches appeared before Holly’s eyes and she stopped abruptly. “Whew.” She caught herself and for a moment stood still, Jonathan still in her arms, leaning against the banister for support.
“Again!” Jonathan demanded.
“Later, Jonathan. Holly’s feeling a little dizzy right now,” she explained to the boy.
Before he could say anything else, the front door opened and several people entered. It wasn’t hard to guess who they were: Paul’s parents and his great-aunt Mirabelle. The old lady looked rather robust, with a very alert look on her face. Holly knew instinctively that this woman had a mind of her own.
Paul’s father was helping her over the threshold, but she shook off his arm. “I’m not an invalid, Brad! So don’t treat me like one.”
Holly suppressed the smirk that threatened to spread on her face and shifted her gaze to the woman who entered last: Paul’s mother. She was dressed as though she had just left a Coco Chanel fashion shoot. Her eyes instantly fell on Holly, then on Jonathan.
“Oh, look at my boy! He’s grown so much!” She charged past her husband and Mirabelle, reaching out her arms and practically ripping Jonathan from Holly’s hold. “You must be the new nanny. I’ll take him now. Why don’t you take an hour off?”
“But I—”
“No worries, I’ll tell Olivia that it’s okay,” she interrupted, barely giving Holly a sideways glance. “Where are they?”
“On the terrace. I was just going to . . . ” Holly’s words trailed off and she watched Paul’s mother disappear with the child in her arms.
Slowly, Holly turned to the other two new arrivals. “I’m not the nanny.”
Mirabelle’s alert eyes examined her, then a smile spread over her face. “Well, of course not. Everybody can see that.” She tossed Paul’s father a frustrated look. “But then, some people only see what they want to see.” Then she looked back at Holly. “The boy seems to like you.” Mirabelle stretched her hand out in greeting. “I’m Mirabelle, and this is my nephew Brad. And you are?”
Instinctively, Paul’s gaze drifted to Holly, who’d heard the question too. To his surprise, her cheeks colored a pretty shade of pink. When he looked back at Olivia, his sister seemed to have noticed the short exchange.
Olivia sighed. “At least one of us is having fun.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder, where Quentin had started to lug one of the suitcases up the stairs. There was a yearning look in his sister’s eyes, and it made Paul’s heart ache for her.
22
“Jonathan, stop!” Olivia called after the little rascal, who was now charging over the terrace and into the house, while his parents were sitting on the comfortable lounge chairs, enjoying a late afternoon drink.
Paul jumped up from his chair, but Holly stopped him. “I’ll go after him.”
“Would you?” Olivia asked, relief in her voice. “That’s so nice of you.”
“Sure, I don’t mind,” Holly replied and walked to the door.
Behind her, Tara asked, “Who wants refills on their drinks?”
“I’ll have another one,” Quentin said eagerly. “Let me give you a hand in the kitchen. Paul, you want another drink?”
“Sure, why not?”
Holly charged after Jonathan, who’d taken off like a rocket, leaving the others to their own devices. She had to admit that now that she knew Tara wasn’t interested in Paul, she found the girl very nice and helpful. Tara didn’t mind helping out where she could and had even offered to cook dinner, but Paul had announced that since his parents were returning today, he was sure the staff would too. Which meant that the cook would be arriving shortly to prepare dinner.
Holly couldn’t imagine having somebody like a maid or a cook working for her. It seemed so decadent. She shook her head. Well, it wasn’t her life.
She caught up with Jonathan just as he set his foot on the first step of the grand staircase leading to the upper floor. “No, you’re not!” she called.
The boy turned his head, spotted her, and giggled, then used his hands to hoist himself farther up the stairs. But he didn’t get far, because Holly grabbed him and pulled him into her arms.
He giggled even louder. She lifted him up higher and spun, making them both turn like a carrousel, Jonathan’s legs swinging in a wide circle.
Dark blotches appeared before Holly’s eyes and she stopped abruptly. “Whew.” She caught herself and for a moment stood still, Jonathan still in her arms, leaning against the banister for support.
“Again!” Jonathan demanded.
“Later, Jonathan. Holly’s feeling a little dizzy right now,” she explained to the boy.
Before he could say anything else, the front door opened and several people entered. It wasn’t hard to guess who they were: Paul’s parents and his great-aunt Mirabelle. The old lady looked rather robust, with a very alert look on her face. Holly knew instinctively that this woman had a mind of her own.
Paul’s father was helping her over the threshold, but she shook off his arm. “I’m not an invalid, Brad! So don’t treat me like one.”
Holly suppressed the smirk that threatened to spread on her face and shifted her gaze to the woman who entered last: Paul’s mother. She was dressed as though she had just left a Coco Chanel fashion shoot. Her eyes instantly fell on Holly, then on Jonathan.
“Oh, look at my boy! He’s grown so much!” She charged past her husband and Mirabelle, reaching out her arms and practically ripping Jonathan from Holly’s hold. “You must be the new nanny. I’ll take him now. Why don’t you take an hour off?”
“But I—”
“No worries, I’ll tell Olivia that it’s okay,” she interrupted, barely giving Holly a sideways glance. “Where are they?”
“On the terrace. I was just going to . . . ” Holly’s words trailed off and she watched Paul’s mother disappear with the child in her arms.
Slowly, Holly turned to the other two new arrivals. “I’m not the nanny.”
Mirabelle’s alert eyes examined her, then a smile spread over her face. “Well, of course not. Everybody can see that.” She tossed Paul’s father a frustrated look. “But then, some people only see what they want to see.” Then she looked back at Holly. “The boy seems to like you.” Mirabelle stretched her hand out in greeting. “I’m Mirabelle, and this is my nephew Brad. And you are?”
