“What’s that?”
“Why do you read romance novels?”
The seconds ticked. “Well, for me it’s the predictability. I know it’s going to end happily for the hero and heroine.”
“But it’s fantasy, Sonja.”
“It’s not fantasy, Taylor, but escapism. For a few hours I’m able to escape into a place where two people will overcome the obstacles and conflicts threatening their happiness.”
“So, it’s not that you’re living vicariously through the characters?”
“Not at all,” she protested. “Even though I’m not married or in a relationship, that in no way translates into my identifying with fictional characters.” She didn’t see the smile tilting the corners of Taylor’s mouth at the same time she glanced at the notations on the pad. “The next one on the list is color.”
“I’m partial to blues and grays.”
“That doesn’t get a check because I prefer earth tones. What about art?” she asked.
“African masks. I have a collection of masks and paintings with masks.”
A gasp of shock slipped past Sonja’s lips. “That gets a double check. I’ve just begun collecting them. When I was in Venice earlier this year I bought one from an African street vendor to add to those worn at carnival. Where did you get your masks?”
“One of my former coworkers has a brother in Nigeria who is a sculptor, and I have bought a number of his pieces.”
“I’d love to see your collection.”
“Right now they’re packed away, but perhaps one of these days you’ll get to see them. What’s next?” Taylor asked.
“Favorite foods. I like Caribbean and Southern.”
Taylor chuckled. “Again a double check.”
“Favorite time of the year.”
“Fall and winter.”
Sonja angled her head. “That gets a half check because I like the change of seasons.”
“Okay. I’ll accept that. What’s next?”
“Photography.”
“Black and white,” Taylor said.
“That’s another check,” Sonja confirmed.
“Favorite time of the day?”
“Late night.”
“Bingo,” Sonja drawled. She counted the number of checks. “It looks as if we are more compatible than not.”
“That’s good to know.”
“And I agree, if we’re going to be working together.”
Taylor’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t know what had transpired in Sonja’s life in less than twenty-four hours for her to hint about becoming a part of the restoration team he’d hoped to establish over the coming months. He’d also wanted to pump his fist in triumph when she’d revealed she wasn’t married or in a relationship. He did not want to have to deal with a jealous or controlling husband or boyfriend.
“There’s also something else we have in common.”
“What’s that?” Sonja asked.
“I noticed you brought a camera, and I also have one in the cargo area. There’s so much to see that I know I won’t be able to recall it all.”
Sonja pressed her head against the headrest. “I’ve thought about what you’ve told me about Bainbridge House and I’m willing to accept your offer based on salary, benefits and perks.”
Taylor had informed Patrick that he would assume the responsibility to establishing salaries based on an applicant’s education, licensing and certification. The total restoration budget would support Taylor hiring the best tradespeople in the region.
“We’ll discuss salary and bennies later. Do you have a valid driver’s license?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I am willing to provide you with a leased car and put you up in a nearby hotel to cut down on the time you’d have to commute from Inwood to an area north of the Delaware Water Gap.”
With wide eyes, Sonja gave him a lengthy look. “It’s that far?”
“Yes. Bainbridge House was built close to the Dryden Kuser Natural Area known as the highest point in New Jersey.”
“It sounds as if it’s in the boonies.”
“Not quite. There are a lot of small Jersey towns in the area, and New York’s Port Jervis is a short drive away.”
“How long will take it us to drive from Inwood to Bainbridge House?”
“At least ninety minutes, barring traffic delays.”
Sonja shook her head. “There’s no way I want to spend three hours a day driving to and from work.” She paused. “What about you, Taylor? Do you plan to commute from Connecticut?”
“No. I’ve already made plans to live in my mother’s Sparta condo. It’s about an hour’s drive so that’s manageable for me.”
“What about your place in Stamford?”
“I’m not renewing my lease. I’ve arranged for a moving company to pack up everything and take it to a New Jersey storage facility.”
“It appears you have all of your ducks in a row.”
“I have to because I don’t like surprises or chaos.”
“Are you warning me that you’re going to be a harsh taskmaster?”
A silence filled the vehicle for several seconds. “No. I don’t yell or threaten, Sonja, and on a project, any foreman who does that will be terminated on the spot. As a new hire with my former employer I had a supervisor who was verbally abusive to everyone, and I swore once I was promoted to a supervisory position I’d never treat adults like recalcitrant children. The overall morale was so low and the construction site so toxic we’d talked about walking out en masse and quitting. It ended when word got back to a VP and the supervisor was fired. I was promoted as an assistant construction site supervisor. Unfortunately, my promotion came only a few months before my mother revealed she wanted us to restore the property, and it didn’t go over well with some of my coworkers.”
“They know you, Taylor, and are probably apprehensive as to who they would eventually get to replace you.”
“You’re probably right, but I can’t dwell on it because it’s my past.”
Like your modeling career, Sonja mused. She marveled that it was so easy for him to dismiss his past while she was still struggling to deal with the events in her failed marriage. They were traumatic enough for her to reject any man who expressed an interest in her—and that included dating.
“Your position will be vastly different from the other workers.”
She blinked slowly. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’ll be autonomous. You will be responsible for appraising every item in the mansion while deciding which architectural features should be repaired or replaced.”
“I hope you’re patient, because that means I’ll have to go through every room in the house and give you a report.”
“That’s not going to pose a problem, Sonja. I’ve projected up to two years to restore the interior and exterior of the main house. I’d like to start work on the exterior before it gets too cold.”
For the first time since she’d answered Viola’s call, Sonja experienced an excitement that made her look forward to beginning a new artistic venture. Taylor unknowingly would assist her in becoming more independent once she moved to a hotel as he’d promised. She didn’t have a problem sharing the apartment with her aunt and uncle, but at her age she should’ve been living alone. She’d dreamed of decorating her place and occasionally hosting little get-togethers for her friends, coworkers and family members. Hopefully, after she completed her commission to restore Bainbridge House, she would be able to concentrate on moving into a condo or cooperative.
She settled back against the leather seat and watched the passing landscape as Taylor followed the road signs leading to the Governor Mario Cuomo Bridge. It would be her first time crossing the new twin cable-stayed bridge spanning the Hudson River between Tarrytown and Ny
ack.
Living temporarily in a hotel and having a car at her disposal was a pleasantly unexpected perk.
“Cool jazz or R&B?”
Sonja knew Taylor was asking what she wanted to listen to. “Cool jazz.”
He winked at her when she gave him a wide grin. “We’ll listen to R&B on the return ride.”
“Thank you, Taylor.”
He shook his head. “I should be the one thanking you. You’re going to make my job easier because I don’t have to search for an appraiser. We have a tentative estimate that once the property is fully restored it will be worth one hundred-fifty million. But that doesn’t consider the contents. You will be responsible for authenticating the value of silver, crystal, china, paintings and furnishings.”
“It’s going to take time to go through everything, but I promise to do my best to make Bainbridge House a showplace for the twenty-first century and beyond.”
Chapter Four
Sonja hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she felt constriction in her chest forcing her to exhale. She was a sightseer, staring out the passenger-side window at the passing towns named McAfee, Sussex and Quarryville. She’d become more alert once Taylor maneuvered off the main road and onto a private one. A fading sign indicating the number of feet to Bainbridge House came into view as Taylor slowed and maneuvered into the hidden driveway. Age-old trees lining a cobblestone roadway were just beginning to display their spring yield, and she tried to imagine what they would look like during the height of summer.
Within minutes of hanging up after Viola’s phone call, Sonja had wondered about how the Williamsons were connected to the historical property. Were Viola’s ancestors free people of color who had made a fortune before or following the Civil War and had purchased three hundred acres on which to build their mansion? She did not want to think of another possible scenario where a wealthy white man had fathered a child of color and had left him the property in his will. Sonja knew the questions would plague her until she was able to begin an intensive search on the Bainbridge family.
Taylor drove through a massive open iron gate and Sonja felt as she’d been transported back to a time in Europe where châteaus were country retreats for royals and nobility. A gasp escaped her when she got her first glimpse of Bainbridge House. The château was built on a hilltop overlooking a broad expanse of recently mowed green fields; soot and fading stones did little to lessen her enthusiasm to view the interiors. The authenticity of the design made her wonder if the château had been disassembled in Europe, transported to the States, and then rebuilt brick by brick.
Taylor stopped and cut off the engine in the circular driveway. “What do you think?”
Sonja removed her sunglasses, setting them on the console between the front seats, and then undid her seat belt. “I can see why you said you were overwhelmed. Bainbridge House is magnificent. It reminds of the castles in the Loire Valley. By the way, I noticed the grass has been cut.”
“The caretaker keeps the grass from being overgrown.” Taylor also unsnapped his belt. “Are you ready to see what’s waiting for you?”
He had asked her if she was ready, but Sonja wasn’t certain she actually was ready to take on what she assumed was a monumental project. She’d viewed and toured more châteaus, monasteries, castles, museums and churches than she could count both as a child and an adult, and being a student of art, she never ceased to be awed by the exteriors, interiors and their contents. However, this was different. This was to be the first time she would be responsible for cataloguing and managing artistic and cultural collections. She did not have the postgraduate degree to become a curator at a national museum; however, she did have knowledge of restoration and art history.
She gave him a bright smile. “Yes.”
Reaching for her camera, Sonja waited for Taylor to get out and come around to help her down. He’d rested his hand at the small of her back and then dropped it. “I called Dominic Shaw to let him know we were coming today to leave the gate open and air out several rooms on each floor of the house.”
“He lives here year-round?”
“Yes. Mom says he calls her whenever he’s going on vacation, and that means the property is left unattended. I informed him yesterday that I’d scheduled a security company to wire the house and the grounds because once the renovations begin work people will be coming and going at different times and days.”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t done before.”
“So was I,” Taylor admitted. “I’m guessing that because the house is off the beaten track and surrounded by high walls and a fence it hasn’t become a target for vandals and trespassers. I’m certain folks in the area being aware that the property isn’t abandoned also acts as a deterrent.”
Sonja wanted to tell Taylor that walls, gates and resident caretakers were no match for those intent on burglarizing the house and taking off with valuable items that were irreplaceable. And if Charles Bainbridge had spent ten million dollars to build his home, she was certain he had spared no expense decorating it.
They mounted the half dozen steps to the front door, flanked by window boxes with overgrown ferns. Taylor opened the door, and Sonja followed him into an entrance hall with rooms branching to the right. Grit on the marble flooring made a crunching sound as she glanced up at curving twin staircases leading to the second story. A massive chandelier, covered with cobwebs, sat on a drop cloth in the middle of the expansive space.
She shivered slightly from the cool air filtering through open windows and decided not to take off her jacket. “This place is going to need a good cleaning, Taylor.”
He nodded. “I’m waiting for a callback from a maintenance company to schedule a time for them to come in and clean the entire house. I don’t want to bring them in until cameras are installed. And I really didn’t want to bring you here until it was thoroughly cleaned. But I needed to know if you were willing to join the project because my brother Patrick is doing double duty as the restoration’s CFO and working for his fiancée’s uncle’s Napa vineyard. He divides his time between California and Long Island. He’s been sending me emails every day asking for figures so he can draw up a tentative payroll.”
“Have you hired your team?”
“Not yet. I plan to hire an architect as project manager, while I’ll continue to supervise the overall restoration. I’ve given also given Patrick the figures for the prevailing pay scale for architects, carpenters, plumbers, electricians and painters.”
“Do you know how many workers you’ll need?”
“No. I gave him an approximate number that can always be adjusted either up or down. Now I’m going take you upstairs to see several bedroom suites, and then we’ll go downstairs to the cellar, where the collection of paintings, china, silver and crystal are stored.”
There were many more questions Sonja wanted to ask Taylor but decided to wait. She wanted to know if he’d projected a date when he wanted to begin work because it would take time for him to interview and hire his team.
She climbed the staircase, noticing the worn carpeting on the stairs and on the second story hallway. There were several rooms stenciled with Water Closet on the doors. She stopped, opened the door and saw a narrow space with a commode and shower stall. Sonja entered the first bedroom suite on her right at the top of the staircase. Massive mahogany pieces made the space appear smaller than it actually was. The queen-size bed with a decoratively carved headboard and two bedside tables, an enormous armoire, overstuffed armchairs, a round table with four pull-up chairs, a woven rice container under a console, storage chest at the foot of the bed and a cushioned rocker under tall, narrow windows would have made her feel claustrophobic if she had been assigned to this bedroom.
“What do you think?” Taylor asked as he stood behind her.
“The mahogany pieces are exquisite, but less would be better.” Raising her camera, Sonja
took several shots of the furnishings.
He moved closer, his moist breath feathering over her ear. “Can you imagine getting up in the middle of the night without turning on the light while attempting to find your way to the door through this maze?”
Sonja couldn’t help laughing. “No.” She sobered. “What I like is the Caribbean influence in the mahogany carvings on the headboard and armoire. The console, which is in the French Regency style, has an intricate Martinique-style carving.”
“Are you saying it’s an antique?”
“I won’t know for certain until I examine it closely.”
“I have two steamer trunks filled with correspondence, bills, canceled checks and documents linked to this house. I haven’t had the chance to go through everything except to pull out blueprints and floor plans.”
“Would you mind if I take a look at them? Maybe I can find receipts to ascertain where a particular item was purchased.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
Sonja turned to look at Taylor. “Yes, I’m sure. Some of these pieces could have been ordered from Europe or won at auction.”
“I’ll wait until you move into the hotel before I bring them over.”
“I noticed we passed several motels during the drive here.”
Taylor shook his head. “A few are not much better than flophouses. I much prefer one belonging to a chain. I’ll set up an account for you once you check into an apartment suite where you will have the option of ordering room service or cooking for yourself. I’ll give you a salary commensurate with your education and experience, and you can set your own hours. Once the property is secured, you will be given an electronic key card that will allow you access to come and go whenever you like.”
“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” she teased.
“I don’t want you to refuse it. You’re not going to become my employee, but a contract worker. Right now I don’t have time to look for another architectural historian. It’s going to be a lot easier finding painters, carpenters, and masons than someone with your expertise. I told you before that I don’t yell or threaten, but I am no-nonsense when overseeing a project. I have a timeline as to when I want the exterior and interiors completed, and that’s before my brothers leave their jobs to become involved with the business.”
A New Foundation Page 5