Читать книгу Christmas at the Little Clock House on the Green - Eve Devon - Страница 16

Jake

Jake watched wariness and hurt flood Emma’s eyes before she quickly turned and began efficiently setting out tea on a tray.

Damn.

Briefly, he wondered if there were as many words for ‘idiot’ in Eskimo as there were for ‘snow’ because even though she might be some Hollywood actress who was going to take off the minute it got cold proper, that didn’t mean he had to behave like he was counting down the minutes until she did.

He watched as with practised ease, she shoulder-pressed the heavy round tray with one hand and strode confidently over to one of the largest tables.

If he were the fanciful sort he might think she looked like some Nordic warrior, striding across the room with purpose, her pale gold hair flowing down her back.

Thank God he wasn’t.

And right there he was hit with the realisation of exactly why he’d been behaving like an arse.

Being called Eeyore aside, it was actually because she’d accused him of not having a romantic bone in his body.

Why the hell he should care if she was right, he didn’t know.

Life was altogether a lot more bearable if he didn’t go around acting and feeling like some bloody poet in love.

Been there. Done that. Not to mention been given the billowy shirt by his comedian brothers as a joke.

In his family, when they’d all been vying for roles growing-up, the minute he’d expressed more than a passing interest in the gardens on the estate he’d been labelled ‘The Romantic’ of the family. Ironic, really, considering he’d been the only Knightley not to labour under the idyll that the family money would never run out.

As soon as he’d started adding girls into the mix, his brothers and sisters had absolutely no problem referring to him as the Heathcliff-bloody-Rochester of the Knightley clan.

Actually, that wasn’t technically true. Lately he’d been known as the Uhtred of Bebbanburg-Knightleys’, but that was completely his own fault for not getting his hair cut.

Which reminded him…

‘Hey, Juliet,’ he walked over to the table they were obviously going to hold their meeting at, put down everything he’d brought to pitch his design, and shrugged out of his jacket. ‘I don’t suppose you could cut my hair before you open the salon to the rest of the hordes, could you?’

‘Are you sure?’ Juliet tipped her head to the side as she regarded his ‘do’. ‘The man-bun is definitely working for you. If you’re desperate I could see if Mum’s available?’

Aware that Emma was listening as she fussed a cloth over the pristine bar, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.’ Juliet’s mother, Cheryl Brown, grew exceptional dahlias and roses and she’d been a hairdresser for as long as Jake had known her. And it was precisely for that reason that he thought he had it in him to wait until Juliet was ready.

‘Right then,’ Daniel said, pulling out a chair at the table, sitting down and reaching for his coffee. ‘Jake, are you all set to pitch to us?’

‘What? Oh, yep. Born ready,’ Jake replied, efficiently setting his laptop up, so they could all see what he was going to be describing.

‘Emma,’ Kate called over to the bar, ‘come and grab a seat and a cuppa, you should be in on this meeting too.’

She should?

Jake busied himself opening his notebook to stare at the loose pitch he’d prepared while she settled herself at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. It was weird, he thought. He wasn’t usually nervous before presenting a new garden design, but what with Hollywood watching…

‘So,’ he began, with a subtle clearing of his throat. ‘There are a couple of options for revamping the courtyard, but I want to start with what I feel follows the brief you provided and then pushes the boundaries a little.’ Jake indicated his laptop screen. ‘If you like what I’ve come up with, I have a quote already drawn up. But this should be a collaborative process, so if we need to adjust for budget, or if there’s something we need to add, we can do that as well.

‘Kate, you mentioned wanting to match what you’ve done inside, but I’ve actually taken inspiration from outside. At the moment when you look out of any window onto the courtyard all you see is patio before your gaze is drawn straight to the moon-gate in the far wall.’

The moon-gate had actually been his starting point, because even though he loved that your eye was drawn straight to it and the romance of it had you wanting to know what was on the other side, with The Clock House opening up as a business, he didn’t think Kate would want people from outside the village, who didn’t know the history to what was on the other side of the moon-gate, to go get curious and start disturbing the beehives that were kept in the wild meadow beyond.

‘I’ve zoned the courtyard to provide each window with a unique vista, creating mini gardens to reflect what you do here. Providing relaxing and enchanting views will add to customer experience. It’ll mean building walls to divide the space but we can match the original brickwork. In each wall I’ve created a round aperture to mimic the moon-gate. It would work really well if we could use the same wrought-iron design work. The round gates also subtly mimic the face of a clock. Planting will be soft to counter the architecture but won’t require a lot of maintenance. I know you’ll be using honey in a lot of your treatments and that got me thinking about planting herbs for you to use in the tearoom and bar as well. I can go into specific planting detail once the design is approved, but take a look at the preliminary sketches,’ he said, moving the laptop to rollout some sketches he’d drawn of the courtyard from different angles. ‘And tell me what you all think?’

Kate, Daniel and Juliet all started talking at once and Jake breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the excited tones of their voices. Right up until he noticed Hollywood frowning down into her mug.

What the hell?

He’d honestly only ever had positive reactions to his designs before.

Probably because he spent time getting inside a client’s head so he could produce something he knew they’d like.

‘Is there a problem, Hollywood?’ he asked.

She looked up. ‘Oh, it’s really not my place,’ she said, bringing her cup of tea to her mouth as if it would help stop her from voicing her opinion.

‘You were invited to sit at the table and participate,’ he said tearing his gaze from hers to stare down at his sketches. He couldn’t see anything wrong with them. He’d created gardens within a garden and different views according to where you were inside The Clock House, each taking into account where the sun rose and fell. He’d designed access paths, chosen an easy-to-maintain planting scheme, and most importantly, the three people he’d come to present to didn’t appear dissatisfied.

In. Any. Way.

Obviously picking up on the growing tension, Kate carefully placed her teacup back in her saucer and said calmly, ‘What did you want to say, Emma?’

‘Well, if you’re sure you’d like the feedback?’ she asked, only she wasn’t looking at Kate, she was staring up at Jake with challenge set on her face.

‘Yes, of course. I’d welcome it,’ he answered uber-politely.

‘You’re sure?’

Impatience sparked. ‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

‘All right, then.’ Her gaze fell on his design as if she was gathering herself and then her gaze bounced back up to his. ‘So what you’ve designed is stunning.’

It was so completely unexpected that Jake felt his chest puff out with pride.

‘It’s sophisticated,’ Emma continued, ‘It’s contemporary…’

When she paused, a pulse ticked in his jaw. ‘And yet?’

‘And yet, well, it’s not very practical, is it?’

‘Practical?’

‘Yes. I know that word is probably a designer’s bugbear. You’ve created a space everyone inside can enjoy, but I imagine, during the spring, summer and autumn months the courtyard will get more footfall. I also imagine that if the tearoom and bar is successful,’ she quickly glanced at Kate in askance, ‘you might want to give customers the option of eating and drinking out there?’

She was right, Jake realised.

Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Why hadn’t they?

Or had they? In a mild panic he started going through the original notes he’d made. He knew he’d been spinning a few too many plates over the last year.

Ever since…

He breathed in sharp.

Had he totally dropped the ball on this one?

‘Jake, I must apologise,’ Kate said, interrupting his search through his notes. ‘I completely missed telling you about this. I’m so sorry. I’ve had so much on.’

‘It’s not a problem at all, Kate. Honestly, I can relate.’

‘I know you can.’

What he needed to do now was think on his feet and come up with a workable solution that didn’t dampen the creativity of the project either.

‘This is only a suggestion,’ Emma inserted into the conversation, ‘but what if you were able to make the walls not solid, but more, sort of, moveable partitions somehow?’

Intrigued, there was only time to be mildly surprised by her insight while feeling sickened at his oversight. Out came his pencil and he started sketching out the gridwork that would be needed. It would be expensive. Really expensive. Would Kate go for it? She’d already sunk so much of her own money into the place.

While being given the guided tour, it had been impossible not to recognise what you could do when your budget was so large. Jake’s budget for Knightley Hall, on the other hand, was miniscule. His life a constant juggling act of form-filling and grant-obtaining to help with the up-keep.

He knew he was still at the setting up part of the whole process at the Hall and that once the gardens were open to the public, he’d be able to make money for the estate. He’d already thought about reserving an area for local schools to learn about gardening, about holding gardening weekend retreats and about selling produce from the kitchen garden further afield than the local village markets.

Basically he’d been thinking and dreaming, dreaming and thinking about how to make the place pay for itself for as long as he could remember but he couldn’t help wondering if life would be different had he been able to act on his plans sooner and show Alice a glimpse of what their life together would have been like.

Annoyed at where his thoughts were taking him he concentrated on adding a few more lines to his sketch, determined to capture what he thought Emma had been suggesting. Then, holding out his sketch for her perusal, his gaze bored into her while he awaited her reaction.