The Good Sisters. Helen Phifer
Читать онлайн.| Название | The Good Sisters |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Helen Phifer |
| Жанр | Религия: прочее |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Религия: прочее |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 9780008209568 |
Kate Parker pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and stood with her hands on her slender hips, admiring the building in front of her. It was huge, old, a complete wreck – and all hers. This was going to be her home for the foreseeable future, hopefully for ever. The acre of land surrounding the building was overgrown and neglected, but there was a lot of potential. The one thing that Kate had always had since she was a child was vision. She knew that this sad, unloved building – once the work had been completed – would make an amazing boutique bed and breakfast, as well as the perfect home for her daughters.
‘What do you think, Amy? Does it meet with your approval? I hope so because I’m going to be investing everything that you left to me, and every penny I get from the prick when the divorce is finalised, to turn it into our dream.’
Her voice echoed then fell flat in the clearing and she had to blink back the tears. Amy – her best friend, and the sister she’d never had – had also shared this dream with her. Ever since they’d met fifteen years ago this had been their plan. She would have loved it. They had spent two years looking for the perfect property to renovate, but had never found one that quite ticked all the boxes or was within their price range. Then came the devastating news that Amy had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.
The pain in her heart always took her by surprise, the grief a sharp sting that would take her breath away. It was so ironic that now Amy was no longer here, and Kate was on her own, she had enough money to buy this property. She’d heard about it from one of the girls at the estate agent’s where she used to work before her perfect life had been washed away from under her feet.
Sam had phoned her up the same day that she’d been asked to visit and make a valuation ready to put it on the market. Luckily for her, Sam hated Kate’s ex-husband Martin – who owned the estate agent’s – almost as much as Kate did. She had come and picked Kate up, driving her to view the property. They hadn’t been able to go inside because it was boarded up at every door and window, but Kate had fallen in love with its Gothic structure, large arched windows and overgrown, neglected grounds.
Sam had handed the owners’ details to Kate and told her she would give it a few days before she rang them back to double check they wanted Parker’s Estate Agents to go ahead and market it. Kate had phoned the owners the minute she got back to her cramped, one-bedroomed flat and told them she was prepared to make them a cash offer, saving them the extortionate estate agent’s fees, if they agreed on a private sale.
Not only did the owners agree there and then that she could buy it, they told her they would accept her offer, which was substantially lower than the three hundred thousand they had told Sam they were looking for. Six weeks later, she was now the proud owner of the house and not only had she got it for a bargain but she had also managed to swipe it from under her greedy, soon-to-be ex-husband’s feet. She didn’t know what was more fulfilling: getting the property before he did or the fact that she was about to make her lifelong dream come true.
The sound of tyres crunching along the gravel broke her trance and she turned to see a battered grey van that belonged to the cowboy heading towards her. Amy had nicknamed him ‘the cowboy’ because of his love of checked shirts, faded jeans and rigger boots. Oliver Nealee worked for Martin at the estate agent’s, doing all his property maintenance, and Kate was hoping she could convince him to take over the project management for the renovations on the house. She didn’t know any other builders, and he was always such a polite, funny, hard-working man. She knew she could trust him. It was probably the meanest nickname anyone could call him – the cowboy – but it just suited him.
He parked behind her, narrowly missing her pushbike, which she’d left discarded in the long grass, and she had to grab it and drag it away from the front tyres. He swung his legs out of the van and for the first time ever she caught a glimpse of his tanned, muscled calves. The denim shorts he had on were faded just like his jeans always were.
‘Sorry, Kate, I didn’t see your bike there.’
‘My fault, I just dumped it when I got here.’
He looked at her and she hoped he wasn’t thinking what a mess she was. Her blonde cropped hair was badly in need of a cut. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and since she’d left Martin she hadn’t bothered to keep up with the Botox and fillers – all the money she’d spent the last three years trying to look much younger than her 45 years and he’d still had an affair with the office junior who was 23.
‘It’s been a while. How are you? You look great.’
She began to laugh and felt her cheeks burn. ‘Always such a gentleman. I’m okay, thanks. I know I’ve looked better, but I have no one to please now so I don’t bother.’
‘Well, you look lovely. I think you look better than you have in a while.’
There was a pause. She hoped he wasn’t going to mention her drinking. She didn’t drink as much as she used to when she was with Martin. She knew one day she would be brave enough to try and stop. In fact, she was so excited at the thought of getting her life back on track she had decided to try and cut it down once she moved into her new house. It wasn’t something she was proud of and until now she hadn’t had much reason to stop. Martin had taken her job, home, children and life away from her, leaving her with nothing. Who could blame her for drowning her sorrows in a bottle or two of wine every night?
‘So what’s all this about then? Dragging me away from unblocking a toilet for Martin?’
‘I see he still has you doing all his glamorous jobs then? I wanted to know if you would help me – well, not help me, I mean work for me. I’ll pay you more than what he pays you. I need someone to sort this out for me and I’d like it to be you.’
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