Page 42 of Beyond Her Manner
It was an unexpected yet pleasant sensation. She could feel the warmth of Viola’s rhythmic breath against her wet skin, which made her pulse surge. Their eyes locked until Viola stepped back, holding the towel out to Gillian.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t — ”
Gillian, momentarily thrown off, managed a quiet, appreciative “Thanks,” her voice barely more than a whisper as she took the towel. Viola offered an awkward smile before scurrying into the kitchen.
Running the towel across her chest and down her arms, Gillian slipped her shoes off, patting her ankles and the tops of her feet. It wasn’t the first time she’d been caught in a downpour on a summer’s day. Hanging the towel on a radiator to dry, she went through to the kitchen, where nothing could have prepared her for what she was met with — especially as she had forgotten at that moment that Viola had renovated it.
Gone was the harsh stainless steel, which had been replaced with chic, sage green, custom cabinetry in a classic Shaker style, complemented by an oak herringbone floor and dark marble worktops. A large island inlaid with modular Gaggenau cooktops dominated the centre of the room.
“This is exquisite,” Gillian gasped.
“It’s Clive Christian.”
Gillian knew the name well; she’d dreamt of having a Clive Christian kitchen. Necessity had led her to stainless steel rather than oak when she had refitted it, and although she’d come to love it over the years, it hadn’t stopped her from pining for something like this.
Moistness creeped into the corners of her eyes. At first, she couldn’t pinpoint why she was feeling emotional — it was just a kitchen, after all — but the new one represented change, a strikingly visual one in this case. She missed the old interior, or at least everything it symbolised, now a lost era. Still, she hadto admit she was thrilled to see a kitchen that finally matched the building’s grandeur — especially the new marble fireplace, a definite improvement over the original.
Gillian pushed a pang of jealousy away; she didn’t want or need those feelings now. Viola had created a masterpiece where she was unable to.
“May I?” Gillian gestured to what appeared to be a large cupboard.
“Knock yourself out.”
Gillian opened the doors to find oak racking in the doors that held spices and shelves as well as drawers. “It’s remarkable. Functional, elegant.”
“It is. Why don’t you have a peek through there?” Viola urged, pointing at the door that led to the dining room.
Hesitant at first, Gillian found her feet and forced them across the kitchen. It would be rude not to look despite the fear of what she might find holding her back.
Gillian’s mouth opened as she discovered the room was unchanged.
“I don’t have anything fancy when it comes to tea, I’m afraid,” Viola called out from the kitchen.
“You kept it the same,” Gillian said as she returned to the kitchen.
“Sometimes new isn’t best, and when it comes to a table, you need something loved and used. I like to eat meals in there, even when it’s only me.”
“I used to spend a lot of time in there, too,” Gillian said with a smile. “It’s such a bright room compared to the front of the house.”
“You see now? I’m not a total heathen. Much of the place remains as you left it. I may have also improved a couple of bathrooms.”
Gillian tilted her head in concession. “They needed doing.”
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Assuming Earl Grey is off the table, I guess I could lower myself to a coffee in that fancy machine of yours.” She nodded at a Sanremo coffee machine.
“I only bought that until the kitchen was finished. This is what I use now,” Viola said, heading straight for the row of sleek appliances built into the kitchen cabinets. “That one will become a backup.”
Viola opened a drawer underneath what looked like a water dispenser and took out two mugs. On closer inspection, Gillian could see it was a coffee dispenser, not a water dispenser. She spotted a Gaggenau logo, the same brand stamped across all the integrated appliances.
“How do you take it?” Viola asked, placing a mug underneath the spouts.
Not being a coffee buff, Gillian racked her brains. “However it comes is fine.”
Her eyes fell to the kitchen island, noting something she hadn’t expected to see.
“A wine cooler?” Gillian said, her tone questioning.
