Chapter 3: Margot

CHAPTER 3

Margot

The inspector recommendations Mina made came in clutch, as Joe Mortimer, the inspector Leo ended up hiring, seemed to have been an old friend of his Uncle William, another specter in Leo’s life I had yet to meet. William came up every now and again in conversation, along with Val the housekeeper, Carl the gardener, and his infamous Aunt Margot. Leo’s adoration for his aunt was hard for even his somewhat unreadable demeanor to hide. But none of these people had materialized in the house, despite my growing desperation to gain more insight into the puzzle that was Leo West.

Inspector Joe was as seasoned as he was salty and left no stone unturned or truth untold. While Leo winced at the prospect of having to redo the roof in the next five years, there were a few windows that needed to be replaced in the library, and Joe suggested he could make a return visit once the kitchen had been gutted, if the contractors had any concerns above their abilities. He also mentioned that we should be careful in the basement, but didn’t elaborate, at least not while I was around. Leo was unfazed by the comment.

Joe left with a spate of compliments about how well the house had been maintained for its age and a promise from Leo to say ‘hi’ to his Uncle William on Joe’s behalf.

The plan for the space was quite ambitious, but I felt it was well within my means. The kitchen would be the first and the largest job, with almost full demolition, new cabinetry, new countertops, new flooring, and new appliances. Leo had agreed with me to put a fresh coat of paint on and pull up the carpeting across the entire home with the intention of refinishing the original hardwood floors beneath.

The bathrooms would also require new cabinetry, tiling, and fixtures. If the bathrooms had any original features left, I would have tried to keep them, but the renovation in the eighties had taken out anything worth preserving. The one good thing was that I didn’t plan on doing any major reconfigurations. Otherwise, it was all down to details, like hardware, lighting options, soft finishings, replacing every single dust-laden curtain in the place, and my favorite part, the styling.

If only our other contractors had been as easy as Joe the inspector.

Leo and I spent a week interviewing the entire list of people Mina had given me to lead the actual construction that would be required for the house.

He wasn’t impressed with any of them.

While Leo remained impassive and polite during the interviews, after each was dismissed, he would provide me with a vague determination of why it wouldn’t work out: too inexperienced, too busy, not enough connections with specialty contractors, the list went on. The final straw came when our last potential lead contractor and Mina’s highest recommendation somehow agitated Leo, resulting in him ending the interview early and asking the contractor to leave.

“What was that about?” I sighed in exasperation, after escorting the contractor outside.

Leo’s jaw clenched as he poured himself a glass of red wine, something he frequently did toward the end of the day, although he usually waited until I was on my way out the door to break out his first glass.

“Well?” I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. Hands on hips, I blocked his path out of the kitchen.

“I don’t care to employ misogynists,” he said simply, circumventing me to make his way to the living room.

“What?” I replied, completely confused, and followed right behind him. “What are you talking about, Leo?”

Gracefully, Leo reclined on the new sectional, which had arrived only the day before, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, swirling the wine in his glass, but careful not to let a drop spill. “The lot of them spoke singularly to me.” He raised his eyes from his glass to meet my gaze.

“You’re the client,” I replied, still not understanding how he saw them as sexist.

“But you’re the project manager,” he countered before taking a sip of his wine. “You scheduled the meetings, you greeted them, you explained the plans, our needs for the project, and answered every single technical question they had. It couldn’t have been more obvious that you’re the lead on this, and yet, not a single one of them spoke to you—the last didn’t even make eye contact.”

I could feel my brow furrow as I recalled all the interviews, running through each one, trying to identify any relevant exchange that had been made between me and the various men we had interviewed. “I hadn’t noticed…” I trailed off, realizing he was correct.

I sat down next to him on the couch. “I think I’m so used to people just ignoring me at the firm—it didn’t occur to me that they should have addressed me.” I looked down at my shoes. I’d need a new pair of white sneakers in the next couple months, the rubber on the sole was wearing thin. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Oh no.” Leo shook his head. “Don’t start apologizing.”

I looked up at him, confused.

“You didn’t do anything wrong—you have nothing to apologize for. You’re learning. They’re grown men who can’t wrap their heads around a woman being in charge.” He took another sip of wine.

I hadn’t seen him so wound up before.

“You could have just corrected them,” I offered, my voice feeling smaller than ever.

“Penny.” Leo’s tone commanded my eye contact, which I obliged. “You don’t want to work with someone who doesn’t immediately provide their respect. We need to find someone who understands you’re in control, without having to be told.” He gave a slight nod of his head, as if to confirm my understanding.

“Thank you.” I offered a curt smile. It had been a long time since someone had stood up for me like that, other than Mina. I tried to ignore the now familiar but unwanted flutter in my stomach.

“My uncle said he’d send over a friend next week that would be a good fit—friends with the inspector, it seems—so I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Leo leaned back into the couch, swirling his glass again.

“It’s getting dark outside,” I replied, rising from my seat next to him. “I better get going.” I felt awkward and out of sorts as I made my way to the front door. I was preoccupied, shuffling through memories of my experiences with the interviews and how I had so grossly misperceived each contractor’s intentions and communication, or rather, lack thereof.

On top of that, seeing Leo reclined so casually felt too intimate. He was my boss. It was bad enough that I had started to harbor a small crush, just because he treated me with respect, but even worse that I was still trying to figure out how to get out of my relationship with Adam.

“Drive safe, Penny.” Leo raised his wineglass to me, and I responded with a small wave before leaving the house for my car, hoping he hadn’t seen the flush on my cheeks.

Even though so much of Leo was closed off to me, small exchanges like what I had just experienced offered a wealth of nuanced character study.

Leo was loyal.

He was willing to fight for me, protect me, when I had done nothing to earn it from him.

Maybe we could become friends after all…

Just friends,I had to remind myself.

William’s hunch on the construction foreman was a good one. Just as grizzled as Inspector Joe, Danny Bright seemed to have connections to everyone, and his gregarious nature was surely the reason why.

Leo immediately took to Danny, and Danny seemed just as fond of me, which pleased Leo. Danny would often go into tutorials, teaching me (and Leo, if he was around), about whatever project he or one of his guys was working on. His lessons were usually quite long-winded, but nothing if not informative, and I appreciated learning more about the intricacies of various construction processes.

If Danny disagreed with one of my design decisions based on the methods he was using or due to his decades of experience building and renovating homes, we would talk through the importance of my decision, or how we might compromise to both get what we wanted out of the change.

And Danny was fast too.

Demolition of the kitchen took a little over a day. His team was able to salvage a good chunk of the materials, which were donated to a local nonprofit, and they carefully relocated the refrigerator to the dining room, while we waited for the new integrated and panel-ready one to be delivered in less than two weeks.

Leo seemed antsy at the prospect of losing full access to the kitchen for two weeks, but I believed the thought of having a brand new, bespoke space that was customized to his needs and not falling apart at the seams would be well worth the wait and a couple weeks of takeout.

Toward the end of the first week with Danny, he and I found ourselves arguing about the style of sink I was getting ready to purchase. He felt the counter slab that Leo and I had chosen from the stone yard was beautiful enough that it warranted a seamless sink, where the counter material was used to form the sink, rather than purchasing one separately.

Having looked up some quick example photos on my phone, I liked the idea, and we had just begun talking through what kind of hardware I was going to need to order for the drain, when a gasp from the front door stopped our conversation in its tracks.

In the doorframe stood a woman who was slight only in stature, as everything else about her, from her three-inch stilettos, to her impeccably tailored designer coat, down to her pointed crimson fingernails, commanded the room.

“What happened to the kitchen?” Her voice was silken, with a trace of an unidentifiable accent that could have been from her world travels, or an intentional affectation to make sure people knew she was well traveled. Her alarmed eyes bounced back and forth between Danny and I, no doubt wondering who we were, as much as the both of us were clueless to her identity.

“Aunt Margot!” Leo called out as he rounded the hallway leading to his room and the solarium, having heard the commotion.

So she was the much lauded Aunt Margot.

She wasn’t at all as I had expected.

Based on Leo’s loving description of her, I had expected a woman who embodied motherhood and coziness, but this woman was, much like Leo, something else entirely, and another knot to unravel.

“Leo, darling!” she cooed, leaving a bright red lipstick stain on his cheek before they embraced tightly.

“I thought you were staying at the chateau for another few weeks.” Leo stepped back, as if to take all of her in. I had never seen him more open and engaged. I wondered if this was what Leo had been like before his father had passed away…before he had taken the weight of the world, and of Willowbrooke, on his shoulders.

“The routine became tiresome, and I missed you, so I came back early,” she explained before looking around and remarking, “Dear nephew, what on earth have you done to my house?”

“It’s what Dad wanted,” Leo said quietly, his expression and body language making him look like a child seeking approval, rather than the strong but stoic man I had found him to be in our time together.

Margot sighed sympathetically. “Of course.” She patted his cheek gently, accepting his explanation. “Well, don’t be rude, introduce me to your guests.” Margot turned her sharp hazel eyes—the same as Leo’s—on Danny and me.

“Penny Abbot, my interior designer and project manager.” He motioned to me first.

“Margot Collins, a pleasure.” Margot stuck her hand out to shake mine in a soft exchange.

“Leo’s told me all about you.” I looked beyond Margot to meet Leo’s gaze. I might have imagined it, but I thought it appeared as though his cheeks flushed for a brief moment. “It’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Margot turned around to look at Leo. “Now what kind of stories have you been sharing?” she teased. “Only good things, I hope.”

Leo quirked a smile, but didn’t respond.

Margot shifted back to me. “I’m surprised you’ve gotten anything out of him.” She smiled mischievously through her eyelash extensions. “Leo’s never been exactly forthcoming about much.”

Leo sighed at the jab, which made Margot giggle.

“And who might this handsome young man be?” She sidestepped me to shake hands with Danny, who wasn’t at all fazed by her intended compliment, as he was easily in his sixties.

“Danny Bright—construction foreman.” He gave an uneasy smile and returned the handshake. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” I was surprised Danny, who usually had oodles to say, was suddenly quiet. I resolved to ask him about it later. Perhaps he had met her before, since he was so well entrenched in the area.

“Now then, Leo. Can someone take my bags to the cottage?” Margot returned to Leo’s side. “I thought we’d catch up over a glass of wine, but we’ll have to pop the cork over at mine to stay out of this mess.” She waved her hand at Danny and I, standing in the deconstructed kitchen.

“I’ve got it,” Leo told Margot, simultaneously notifying Danny and me to stand down.

And without another word, the two were out the door.

“Cat got your tongue?” I gave Danny a playful shove.

“I find it best to stay quiet around people of a certain class,” he replied gruffly, which was uncharacteristic of him. I thought it odd that he didn’t seem to consider Leo of the same class as Margot; if anything, Leo’s inheritance would have made him much more well off than his aunt.

Not wanting to push him further, I let the subject drop. “So the fittings—do you think they’ll come in aged brass? That’s what Leo wanted for all the kitchen fixtures.”

“I know a guy,” Danny offered, a response that was so common, it could have been his catchphrase.

“I bet you do,” I laughed.

A few days later, Margot found me examining sheer curtain samples in the living room. I was excited to surprise Leo with the double curtains, so without sacrificing the light, he could keep the sheer curtains drawn, which seemed to be his preference, although he humored me by allowing them to stay open while I was at the house.

“I’m taking you to lunch, Miss Abbot,” she declared, wearing a conservative navy blue shift dress, and another pair of sky-high heels with a red sole that I merely recognized as expensive.

“Oh, I couldn’t—I’ve got to submit the drapery order today,” I tried. “But thank you so much for the offer.”

“Nonsense—I already told Leo—he doesn’t mind.” Margot’s red lips curled at her victory.

I paused for a moment, but realized I had been defeated. “Alright.” I gave a polite smile as I rose from my seat.

“Excellent!” She looped her arm through mine and led me out to her car, which was just as glossy and crimson as her nails.

Before I could even ask where we were off to, Margot began talking a mile a minute, asking all sorts of questions.

“Leo tells me your family is in architecture—why didn’t you follow in the trade?” She expertly handled a steep curve as she spoke.

“I tried,” I admitted, “but design was my passion.” I tried to focus on the positive, rather than my failures.

“A new passion, though?” Margot corrected me. “Leo said this is your first project of this size.”

“Not a new passion.” I paused, trying to work through exactly how to give her information without making myself sound less than—both Mina and now sometimes Leo had been after me to work on my self-confidence.

“When I graduated, my parents needed help at their firm, so I worked there for a while, but eventually—I just…” I stumbled over my words. “I wanted to find my own career—my own path.”

“A risky gamble,” Margot commented, her eyes firmly on the road ahead of her. “Quite admirable.”

“Thank you.” I blushed at the compliment.

I found Margot intimidating, but because Leo cared for her so deeply, I couldn’t deny wanting to impress her. I felt it was important that she think highly of me—maybe I was scared that if she didn’t like me, Leo would change his mind, and all of the good fortune I had stumbled upon would be lost.

“Tell me, what are your honest thoughts about Willowbrooke?” she simpered.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the home, haunted or not. “I love it,” I said simply.

Margot nodded in response, but said nothing more as she pulled into the driveway of an ivy-covered building that housed the restaurant. She waited for the valet to open her car door, whereas I didn’t have the manners or experience to realize I should have followed her lead and done the same.

“Do they have a dress code here?” I tugged at my oversized blazer and pursed my lips, trying not to look down at my sneakers, which were covered in dust from the kitchen construction.

“Probably,” she said flippantly. “But the owner is a dear friend—so nobody will give you any trouble.”

I had to smother a grimace when we crossed the threshold to a sea of blue bloods dressed in their finest, as Margot had clearly taken me to a fancy dining establishment.

“Pierre!” Margot gushed, giving air kisses to an attractive older man wearing an immaculate black suit and a thin mustache. With the way he carried himself, he had to be the owner she’d spoken of.

“How was Europe?” Pierre beamed.

“Oh you know, nice for a while, but there’s no place like home,” Margot chatted. “I hope you kept my table open for me.”

“But of course, right this way.” He allowed her to politely rest her hand on his arm as he escorted her to the back of the dining room. I followed like a dope, as the man had never even made notice of me.

“Madam.” He smiled, pulling out Margot’s chair for her. Once again, I committed a faux pas by seating myself. I didn’t think I’d ever been to such an expensive restaurant before. I hoped Margot wouldn’t count it against me.

“Shall I bring over your usual?” Pierre asked Margot.

“That would be lovely.” She smiled up at the gentleman. “And she’ll have the same.”

Pierre nodded without a glance in my direction before he was off.

“Bit of a social climber, but an excellent contact to have nonetheless.” Margot neatly folded her cloth napkin over her lap.

I laughed at the remark because I got the impression that was the response she had wanted. And indeed, she smiled in acknowledgement.

“In the car—you didn’t tell me, what do you think of Willowbrooke?” I tried to start polite conversation.

Before she could answer, a waiter brought us both glasses of red wine.

Margot sighed appreciatively, “Chateau Gardelier, Cabernet, 1978 vintage.” She swirled her wineglass. “It’s where I was staying in Europe—one of my friends owns it. Stunning vineyards and gardens. You’ll have to visit sometime.”

I found the offer hollow, but nodded politely anyway.

Following her lead, I also gently swirled my glass. I enjoyed a glass of red every now and again, but was far from an expert in anything having to do with wine. Leo likely would have been appalled to know I had a box of red sitting in my apartment as I dined with his aunt.

I took a small sip—it wasn’t as dry as I had expected. “It’s good,” I said genuinely, eyebrows raised in delight.

Margot seemed pleased and inhaled the scent of her glass before drinking from it. “It’s odd staying at the cottage now—since the divorce a few years ago. We were never allowed to go near the cottage growing up, as the groundskeeper lived there at the time. You’ll have to come by and visit, give me your advice on the design. It’s a bit too homey for my liking. I prefer residences that are more stately.

“Willowbrooke is a complicated place for me—for my family.” She circled back to my question. “I grew up there—I have a lot of happy memories in the house.” She paused before taking another sip of her wine, “But the house has also seen a lot of tragedy, which can be difficult to ignore.”

I remained quiet, interested in what little information Margot was willing to share with me, as Leo had said nothing of it.

“The air in the house gets quite heavy—sometimes I think it’s the spirits of those who passed on the grounds,” she said solemnly.

“Spirits—plural?” I asked faintly, picturing the odd shadow and orbs in the photos I had taken, sending a shiver down my spine.

Margot sighed. “Well—those that I know of—my father and mother, Leo’s mother, Christine—and now George, my brother. I’m sure there were more before, since our family built the house.”

I opened my mouth to ask what I really wanted to know, but paused. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. “How?” I whispered.

Margot’s gaze met mine, and although I expected malice or at least discomfort, she was instead curious. “Daddy had a bad heart—back then it was hard to know in advance—I found him in the study. Mother was devastated and died of a broken heart not long after.” She looked beyond me, as if she was peering into the memory.

She took a long sip of the wine. “Christine—poor thing, I think she found motherhood difficult, as they don’t warn you about anything, how it changes you, how it’s not meant for everyone—it certainly wasn’t meant for me.” Margot raised her glass, “She couldn’t cope—decided to end things on her own terms…”

Was Margot implying Leo’s mother had committed suicide?

“Such awful business, and George never got over it, never got over her. It changed him.”

We sat for a moment, the air heavy between us.

“And what of George?” I said softly, entranced by Margot’s transparency.

“Cancer. But George didn’t like going to the doctor, so they didn’t have a chance to do much treatment—it all happened so quickly.” Margot’s eyes were glassy, thinking of her brother, who might have sat in this very chair across from her mere months prior.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wanted to reach across the table and comfort her, but thought better of it.

“I’m just glad he reconciled with Leo before the end.” She sniffled. “George spent years pushing that poor little boy away—reminded him too much of Christine, I think. Poor thing’s an orphan at thirty-five—still too young.”

“But he still has you,” I offered sympathetically.

Margot gave me a watery smile. “And now you, it seems.”

“Me?” I was taken aback by her inference.

“He’s quite fond of you, you know?” She raised an eyebrow, gauging my response to the revelation.

“I’m fond of him.” I softened. “He makes for an excellent client.” I chose my words deliberately to make sure she understood the extent of our relationship.

“And what exactly makes an excellent client? Deep pockets and a handsome face?” Margot laughed.

I was shocked at the implication, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “The fact that he actually trusts my opinion and doesn’t argue over small details.” I smiled. “I’m very lucky to have this project.” My tone sobered.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, you are.”

Again, I wasn’t sure if I was reading Margot correctly. Was I imagining the edge to her voice, the hint of a threat behind her words?

“He’s lucky to have you; I think you’ve really helped him through his grieving process—he’s never had many friends, you know.” Margot’s tone was even now…sincere. Maybe she just had a quirky sense of humor.

“He’s easy to get along with,” I said honestly, not revealing that it was only true because he rarely revealed much of himself. You couldn’t argue or have trouble with someone you barely knew. And you certainly shouldn’t be harboring crushes on them either, especially when you worked for them.

“I wonder if you would have liked him as much before—he was a bit of a shark in his career. Recent events have softened him, for the better, I think.”

“What did he do before?”

Mina and I had often speculated, and even found some vague news articles that mentioned his name, but nothing concrete. And I was too nervous to ask Leo, if he didn’t want to offer it up first.

“Leo’s brilliant—a self-made entrepreneur. He built a great reputation for himself, helping start-ups scale their businesses and secure funding for expansions.” Margot smiled as she spoke. “And look at you, starting your own business. Birds of a feather, I suppose.”

I scoffed. “I don’t have a business.”

“Not yet,” Margot tutted.

“I wouldn’t know where to start. The business side of things are quite a bit out of my skill set.” I hadn’t meant to let my insecurity show, but it seemed being honest with Margot was more important than pretending.

“You should ask Leo for help. He figured it all out on his own. He never took a dime from George—not that George would have given him a thing back then. They had a falling out shortly after Leo graduated high school, and they both went their own ways. It broke my heart to see them so distant, but I think even then I knew they both required time apart to see that they needed each other.” Margot finished her glass of wine.

“George was so proud of his boy—Leo’s an only child, after all. But damned if he couldn’t actually communicate those words with Leo. It took a long time, and a lot of cajoling on my end to get Leo to come back and make amends before it was too late. But thank god he did.” Margot raised her hand at a passing waitress and pointed to her empty glass. The girl nodded and hurried to the bar for a refill.

I wondered if Leo’s lack of approval from his father was one of the reasons that we got along so well. We understood what it was like to deal with conditional love from a parent, when what you so desperately desired was simply acceptance. I could relate to what Leo had gone through with his family, although certainly to a lesser degree.

“Leo dropped everything, gave up his old life, his career, his business, everything he built, and moved back home to take care of his father. They talked about renovating the house when George got better—but they both knew Leo alone would take up the mantle. It was George’s last wish to revive the house, to restore it to its former glory and move past the tragedies that occurred there, for a fresh start—for Leo. And you are giving that to him—you are helping his vision of restoration come to life. You are providing a new beginning.” Margot smiled sadly.

“It’s my pleasure,” I offered. Her words mirrored Leo’s so perfectly. It seemed both Leo and Margot were ready to move forward and start anew.

“I worry Leo’s still in denial about the whole thing—it’s only been a few months. Even I forget sometimes. I half expected George to be the one to greet me when I arrived home the other day. And poor Leo—he won’t even step foot in the solarium.” She shook her head.

“What happened in there?” I asked, biting my cheek to hide my nerves, but still failing miserably.

“Leo didn’t tell you?” she asked, flashing a swift smile at the waitress as she set down a fresh glass of wine.

“No.” I shook my head.

“It’s where George died,” she said matter-of-factly before taking a drink of her wine.