Bella Terra resort in… Wait. I almost have it… interior design.”
“That’s right.” Penelope was seriously impressed. “You have a great memory.”
“I’ve had to have. I’m the head concierge at Bella Terra resort and we’re expected to remember everything about everybody. Although actually—I recently got married and quit.”
Penelope lifted her brows. She had barely known Brooke before, but somehow this woman didn’t seem the type to leave a job she loved for a man.
Brooke launched into an explanation. “I quit before I married him. I was going to work in Sweden. He persuaded me to stay.” She half smiled. “Anyway, I remember you because you and I were roadkill in the Di Luca love caravan, and I felt such a kinship with you!”
Remembrance jolted through Penelope. “That’s right! I remember now. Gossip said you and one of the Di Lucas had had a thing in high school and then split when you both left for college. Something about he wanted to join the military and you didn’t like it?”
“You have a pretty good memory yourself.” Brooke picked up her bagel and nibbled on the edge. “What are you doing in Bella Terra? I never would have thought you would return.”
Here it was. Penelope’s chance to get the scoop, and from the former concierge of Bella Terra resort. “I have business with Joseph Bianchin. Do you know him? Do you know if he’s in town?”
Brooke’s eyes went flat and cool. “No, he’s not. I don’t know when he’s coming back—if ever.”
Penelope’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. She stared at Brooke.
Her horror must have shown on her face, for Brooke said, “What? What did you want to see him for?” A thought seemed to jolt through her. “He didn’t get you pregnant, did he?”
Shock rocked Penelope backward on her stool. “No. Ew. No! He’s past eighty!”
“He’s a nasty old man,” Brooke said, “and I wouldn’t put it past him to promise the world to a young woman and then betray her. But I’ve insulted you by insinuating you’d sleep with the old fart. Forgive me.”
“It’s all right.” What an eye-opening revelation of how Joseph Bianchin was viewed in the community.
“I’m bitter about him,” Brooke said. “We’ve had a lot of problems here in Bella Terra and he started them all.”
Penelope sighed. “I know he has a challenging personality.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“I researched him. He’s a jerk. But I need to talk to him and I really don’t have the funds to sit around here and wait until he—”
“Slinks back into town? Really, I don’t think that willbe very soon.” Brooke studied Penelope and nibbled the bagel, studied and nibbled the bagel. “Did you become an interior designer? Finish the courses and everything?”
“I had a full-ride scholarship to the University of Cincinnati and finished their five-year interior design program. Best studies program in the country.” Maybe Penelope was a little too emphatic, but she had the baggage to justify a little bragging.
“Very cool. My husband and I just bought a house. Our first house. Here in town. It’s an old Victorian built in 1913. It’s thirty-nine hundred square feet in three stories, built on half a city block, really a great house, but it needs work. I’ve been going there every day since we closed on the deal, making sketches and stuff—”
Penelope listened with rising excitement.
“—but I’ve realized that looking through architectural magazines and watching HGTV doesn’t qualify me to redesign this monstrosity. Would you be willing to take a look…?”
Penelope tried very hard not to jump up and down and squeal. Because this wasn’t why she was here, but—what an opportunity!
Instead she concentrated on presenting a reassuring, professional image. “I’ve got my résumé and references on my computer. I can shoot them right to you. I worked in Cincinnati for a design firm—we did office interiors. It was great
“That’s right.” Penelope was seriously impressed. “You have a great memory.”
“I’ve had to have. I’m the head concierge at Bella Terra resort and we’re expected to remember everything about everybody. Although actually—I recently got married and quit.”
Penelope lifted her brows. She had barely known Brooke before, but somehow this woman didn’t seem the type to leave a job she loved for a man.
Brooke launched into an explanation. “I quit before I married him. I was going to work in Sweden. He persuaded me to stay.” She half smiled. “Anyway, I remember you because you and I were roadkill in the Di Luca love caravan, and I felt such a kinship with you!”
Remembrance jolted through Penelope. “That’s right! I remember now. Gossip said you and one of the Di Lucas had had a thing in high school and then split when you both left for college. Something about he wanted to join the military and you didn’t like it?”
“You have a pretty good memory yourself.” Brooke picked up her bagel and nibbled on the edge. “What are you doing in Bella Terra? I never would have thought you would return.”
Here it was. Penelope’s chance to get the scoop, and from the former concierge of Bella Terra resort. “I have business with Joseph Bianchin. Do you know him? Do you know if he’s in town?”
Brooke’s eyes went flat and cool. “No, he’s not. I don’t know when he’s coming back—if ever.”
Penelope’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. She stared at Brooke.
Her horror must have shown on her face, for Brooke said, “What? What did you want to see him for?” A thought seemed to jolt through her. “He didn’t get you pregnant, did he?”
Shock rocked Penelope backward on her stool. “No. Ew. No! He’s past eighty!”
“He’s a nasty old man,” Brooke said, “and I wouldn’t put it past him to promise the world to a young woman and then betray her. But I’ve insulted you by insinuating you’d sleep with the old fart. Forgive me.”
“It’s all right.” What an eye-opening revelation of how Joseph Bianchin was viewed in the community.
“I’m bitter about him,” Brooke said. “We’ve had a lot of problems here in Bella Terra and he started them all.”
Penelope sighed. “I know he has a challenging personality.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“I researched him. He’s a jerk. But I need to talk to him and I really don’t have the funds to sit around here and wait until he—”
“Slinks back into town? Really, I don’t think that willbe very soon.” Brooke studied Penelope and nibbled the bagel, studied and nibbled the bagel. “Did you become an interior designer? Finish the courses and everything?”
“I had a full-ride scholarship to the University of Cincinnati and finished their five-year interior design program. Best studies program in the country.” Maybe Penelope was a little too emphatic, but she had the baggage to justify a little bragging.
“Very cool. My husband and I just bought a house. Our first house. Here in town. It’s an old Victorian built in 1913. It’s thirty-nine hundred square feet in three stories, built on half a city block, really a great house, but it needs work. I’ve been going there every day since we closed on the deal, making sketches and stuff—”
Penelope listened with rising excitement.
“—but I’ve realized that looking through architectural magazines and watching HGTV doesn’t qualify me to redesign this monstrosity. Would you be willing to take a look…?”
Penelope tried very hard not to jump up and down and squeal. Because this wasn’t why she was here, but—what an opportunity!
Instead she concentrated on presenting a reassuring, professional image. “I’ve got my résumé and references on my computer. I can shoot them right to you. I worked in Cincinnati for a design firm—we did office interiors. It was great
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