So scratch that entirely for now.
She stepped out of the shower, reached for a towel. And frowned at the bathroom door.
She’d thought she’d closed it—out of habit—but it stood open. She closed it now as, alone in the house or not, an open bathroom door made her feel exposed.
After wrapping the towel around her body, she wrapped another around her hair. Opened a vanity drawer and frowned again when she saw her skin care supply neatly organized.
She thought she’d just dumped it to sort out later, but … Had she been in that much of a daze when she’d unpacked?
Apparently.
After using what she wanted, she hung the towels to dry, bundled into the robe she’d hung on a hook.
Because her mother’s voice nagged in her head, she went in to make the bed. And found it already made, pillows fluffed.
Dazed, she told herself. She must have made it on autopilot.
Since she’d spend the morning setting up her work area, she decided sweats equaled the uniform of the day.
She walked to the dresser, started to open a drawer.
This time a chill sprinted up her spine.
Her three pretty bottles lined up in front of the mirror; the silver-backed brush and mirror lay together on the left with the vase of flowers dead center.
She’d arranged the bottles near the corner, in a kind of triangle, to balance the flowers on the other side, with the brush and mirror off-center between them.
She was sure of it.
Too much champagne? she wondered.
But she hadn’t had any before she’d unpacked. Obviously, she’d moved them after that, probably when she’d gotten ready for bed.
She moved everything around the way she wanted them. Gave the display a determined nod before taking out sweatpants and her beloved Boston College sweatshirt.
After pulling her wet hair back in a tail, she put on sneakers and considered herself ready for the day.
She switched off the fire before she left the room, then went straight to the library. After plugging in her tablet, she programmed music. Quiet was nice, but quiet could be a little much.
Next order of business: light a fire.
The Doyles made it easy, she noted. Wood right there in the rack—she’d bring in more—a starter log, the long matches.
Pleased when it crackled to life, she stood and admired it.
Now, she thought, decisions.
She could set up down here, then if and when she needed or wanted her work on the big screen, take her laptop up. Or she could just set everything up there.
“Easy choice, because this room really is everything.”
She opened the boxes she and Trey had carted up the day before, and got to work.
It took time, but she had plenty of it.
With her computer set up and—yay!—running, her sketch pad within easy reach, she made use of the desk drawers for supplies. Pencils, markers, rulers, extra sketch pads, client files.
Since she had the space, she thought she’d use the computer in the office on the main level, do her personal business in there. A nice way, she decided, to separate her business.
She put Xena in a south-facing window.
“We’re going to bloom here.”
When she opened a free-standing cabinet, she found decanters inside—whiskey in one, brandy in the other, according to her sniff test. Lowball, highball glasses and snifters stood on a pair of shelves.
She could clean it out, use it for more supplies, but she could so easily see the man with her father’s face sitting by the fire with a book and a glass of whiskey.
She didn’t have the heart.
Neither did she have the heart to set her printer next to that gorgeous desk. No question she’d find a sturdy table or stand somewhere, but it would just ruin the look of the room.
She could network with the printer in the office, but … inconvenient.
Wandering the room, she looked for options. Set another log on the fire, then went up the curving stairs.
More books, another killer view, a smaller, more feminine desk, a big wine-colored leather sofa. The big flat-screen, and a cabinet under it.
She opened one of the doors and found a DVD player, along with an impressive collection of DVDs. Add these to the ones she’d seen in the media room, and yes, Collin had loved movies.
All sorts of movies, she mused as she browsed through them.
Books, movies, art, antiques. Children? He’d put in a gaming system for his friend’s kids, so yes, children.
“So much like Dad. Really, I think you were a lot alike. And I think … I think you’d have enjoyed each other. You should’ve had the chance to find out.”