Southern Comforts by Joann Ross Page B

reconsidering.
    â€œYou know Ms. Cassidy?”
    â€œI read her article in this month’s Vanity Fair. ”
    It had managed to be interesting, amusing and insightful. All at the same time. Which had been a surprise. He’d known that Chelsea was intelligent. And ambitious. But since their relationship hadn’t included much conversation, he’d failed to realize she was extremely talented outside the bedroom.
    â€œConsidering her lightweight subject matter, the article was quite entertaining,” Roxanne sniffed. “She does, however, happen to be the most sought after writer in her field. It’s quite a coup that she’s agreed to write my life story.”
    Roxanne failed to even consider the possibility that Chelsea might refuse the assignment.
    â€œWon’t it be difficult to collaborate?” Cash asked. “With her living in New York and you here in Raintree?”
    One thing he didn’t want to do was to agree to take on such a Herculean restoration project only to discover that the owner of the house was spending most of her time in theBig Apple instead of where she belonged—on the job site making decisions.
    â€œI’m sure it would be, if that’s the way we were working,” Roxanne agreed. “However, I intend for Ms. Cassidy to move into my house with me. That way, I can continue to oversee the restoration of Belle Terre and she can get a true feel for who I am. And how I work.”
    It was the truth, so far as it went. The one part of her answer that was an out-and-out lie was the idea that anyone would learn the truth about who she really was.
    That idea brought back George Waggoner’s letter. And caused another bubble of icy panic.
    â€œWe should discuss my fees,” Cash said. “I’m not inexpensive.”
    â€œI didn’t expect you to be. I demand the best, Mr. Beaudine. And am willing to pay for it. I was also told by your other clients that you usually work on an hourly basis, rather than a flat fee.”
    So she’d checked him out. That wasn’t so surprising, Cash decided. It also revealed that she had a sensible head on those silk-clad shoulders. Since his return to Georgia, he’d had more than one prospective customer want to hire him simply because of his illustrious reputation.
    And then there were always those lonely wives who were more than willing to have their husbands pay to knock down walls and change roof lines while they received a little personal fix up in the bedroom.
    Those jobs Cash had steadfastly refused.
    â€œFlat fees are easier to calculate with new construction because there aren’t so many surprises. With renovations, hourly fees seem to work best. Another way we can do it, since we’re probably going to exceed whatever schedule we come up with by several weeks in a project this big, is forme to bill you twenty percent of the total construction costs.”
    â€œI believe I prefer that last option,” she mused. “However, we’d have to negotiate the payment schedule.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAnd what extras you intend to bill for. Such as which of us pays for inspections, blueprints, telephone calls, fax charges and such.”
    â€œYou’ve done your homework.”
    â€œOf course. I didn’t reach the heights I’ve reached by being foolish about money, Mr. Beaudine.”
    Cash nodded. “I’m beginning to understand that, Miz Scarbrough.”
    â€œThen do we have an agreement?”
    He glanced around the house, thought about the challenge it represented and knew that it could be a pile of crumbling bricks covered with Spanish moss and kudzu vines and he’d have no choice but to take it on, now that Chelsea was part of the picture.
    â€œIf we can work out the details,” he said, not wanting to let Roxanne think she could win the upper hand that easily.
    She waved off his qualification. The diamonds adorning her fingers