Page 7 of Hargrave Artistry
Natalie shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I’ll call Jess and let her handle it.” If she had Jackson’s number she would call him too. Thankfully she didn’t have any kind of contact info for her ex-husband. “I’m safe enough with the security team in place. That’s why we have them, right?”
Veronica shrugged. “I suppose. I’m sorry for implying…anything.”
Natalie waved that away. “You don’t need to apologize.” Crossing the room, she wrapped her sister in a big hug, squeezing tightly. “Go have a wonderful day. Make people feel better. I’ll take care of dinner. Just give me a heads up when you’re about an hour out.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Definitely.” With unshed tears prickling the back of her throat, Natalie dashed away before Veronica could see how upset she really was.
She had never wanted to worry her sisters by telling them everything Jackson had put her through. Bad enough that she’d never live down the crappy stunts he had pulled in public around her friends at college.
The whole fiasco with her father was worse. Jackson had bilked him out of ten thousand dollars on a “sure-fire investment” that didn’t have a chance. It was likely that mess had incentivized her parents to loan her the money for an excellent divorce attorney.
She biked over to the Hideaway, wanting the air on her face to blow away the urge to cry. And if Jackson was still hoveringnearby, the bicycle gave her a few more escape options than staying on main roads like he would need to in his car.
She stopped in the parking lot of the Pelican Pub, just a few blocks from the Hideaway, to call Jess. The front parking lot was empty so she went around back to where she knew the kitchen door would be open as they set up prep for the day. She did not want to get caught anywhere alone with Jackson.
Within a minute, she’d given Jess all the details she had on her ex. “He is not welcome here at all,” she finished.
“Got it,” Jess confirmed. “And from the tone of your voice, you weren’t expecting him.”
“No. He will never be welcome here,” Natalie said. It wasn’t her nature to be so hard and unforgiving, but Jackson had earned more than a cold shoulder or subtle rebuff. He’d earned a complete and total lockout from the Hargrave family.
Whatever excuses he’d brought here with him, she was not going to be fooled again. She refused to allow him to turn her life inside out for his own amusement or worse—his own profit.
“I’m almost at The Hideaway,” Natalie said. “And I’ll be working there for a couple hours getting things set up for our next arrival.” Basically, she’d be making long work of a short list, dawdling until the last possible moment. Anything to prevent a run-in with her ex.
“I’ll let the team know and make sure they’re prepared,” Jess said. “Remember, if he returns, you’re not alone.”
“Thanks,” Natalie replied. “That helps more than you know.”
She wasn’t sure she would’ve had the courage to stay out here if she’d been alone. She had no idea how the Guardian Agency managed it, but she appreciated their near-invisibility and complete discretion. More today than ever before.
Chapter Three
Minutes later,Natalie parked her bike near the kitchen sliding glass door, where it wouldn’t be seen from the street. Letting herself inside, she pulled the clipboard with its exhaustive checklist from the supply closet.
Honestly, whenever she looked at this list, she figured Celeste had somehow inherited every organizational and responsible gene in the Hargrave family tree. She’d reached superhero status with this stuff.
Sure, Nat knew to count the dishes and restock the toilet paper. She knew to double-check clean linens were on every bed with a second set in every closet. That certainly came with an additional dose of gratitude that she was no longer a permanent part of the housekeeping crew. Business had been good enough that they could hire out most of those tasks.
But only Celeste would think about sharpening knives and checking to make sure there were full sets of measuring cups and spoons in the drawer, along with at least one corkscrew.
Natalie suspected this was the source of most of their five-star reviews. The pictures on the website emphasized the amazing kitchen. Designed by their mother during that last remodel before she’d gotten sick, the kitchen drew people in.And when they arrived, Celeste and her checklist ensured they were not disappointed with a haphazard catch-all of tools that may or may not be in optimal condition.
She obediently adhered to the process, checking each line item as she examined one cabinet and drawer at a time. For her, the kitchen was the most tedious part. She was always relieved to move on to rest of the house, inspecting furnishings, board games, and all the other details.
One of the vases was missing. Natalie made a note and moved on. It hadn’t been an heirloom and would be quickly replaced with the floral delivery on the schedule for tomorrow before the new arrivals checked in.
With the downstairs complete, she went back to the kitchen for the bottle of water she brought with her. She’d learned the hard way not to create any messes she had to clean up before leaving. She believed in working smarter wherever it was possible.
She might not be alone out at the Hideaway, but she didn’t want to stick around and press her luck. In a perfect world her ex would give up on whatever had brought him here and go on his merry way without ever seeing or speaking to her.
After her water break she cleared the upstairs, confirming all the linens were in place and double-checking the hair dryers once she realized one bathroom was missing a dryer. Quickly finding the wandering appliance and returning it to its rightful place, she was finally done.
It was early enough she had time to sketch out a few ideas that had sparked her imagination during her walk this morning. Unbidden, the image of Trent’s jawline filled her mind. Suddenly, she was eager to get to the beach and sketch out his face and profile, where she would be the only one to enjoy them. She found a strange satisfaction creating sketches in the sandthat would never last long enough for anyone to judge or pick apart. Or make fun of her various infatuations.
College had been a challenge for her in that regard. She’d struggled with classes where professors insisted on not only keeping a sketch pad journal but sharing it throughout the semester. The only thing worse had been the requirement to critique her fellow students’ sketch journals. She resisted making biting or harsh comments, and although Veronica would be shocked by her sensitivity, Natalie always tried to couch any criticism in a constructive manner.
