Read Online It's a Wonderful Wife by Janet Chapman - Free Book Online
Authors: Janet Chapman
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snagged the six-pack of beer on his way by, and walked over and set the beer and notebook on the table tucked into one of the slide-outs. He went back and emptied the bags onto the island counter, quietly opened cupboards and drawers looking for eating utensils, then filled a plate with fixings. He ripped several paper towels off the roll hanging under the cupboards, carried his plate and one of the warm chickens over to the table, and pulled out a chair and sat down.
Freeing one of the beers and popping the tab, Jesse actually groaned as he took a long guzzle. He took two more guzzles before shoveling several forkfuls of lukewarm stuffing and potato in his mouth, then picked up the beer again with one hand while he opened the notebook with the other, only to stop the beer halfway to his mouth as he stared down at the pencil sketch on the first page. It wasnât so much the small boy soaring high on a swing suspended from a towering pine that caught him off guard, but rather the name
Sinclair
, written in the upper right-hand corner of the page, under which was written,
Add swing to pine tree on the large house model before Friday.
He closed the notebook just enough to see the front cover, even though he knew this wasnât the one sheâd had at his meeting with Stanley back in February, as it had been twice this size and thinner. He opened it up to lay flat on the table, deciding Cadi must carry this one in her purse to quickly sketch ideas when they came to her. The woman might claim she saw things three-dimensionally, but she certainly didnât have any trouble rendering in two dimensions.
He took a quick swig of beer, then turned the page to find a sketch of . . . Hell, was that the Mad Hatter from
Alice in Wonderland
sitting in a water fountain, holding a bulging-eyed rabbit by the neck? Or maybe . . . well, whichever character he was, the guy definitely looked sinister. Jesse saw the name
Stapleton
at the top, then grinned to see
pompous ass
written beneath it.
He slowly turned pages, noting the different names above the mostly happy, animated characters, some commanding two and even three sketches. Other clients, Jesse figured, whose rough study models Cadi must be working on for Stanley. He stopped when he saw the Sinclair name again, quickly leafed through several more pages to see they all contained similar sketches before going blank, then went back to the beginning of the series.
With the same reverent awe heâd felt as heâd studied his house on the island model, Jesse slowly worked his way through the hastily-drawn sketches; not of his home, he realized, but of what appeared to be several . . . playhouses with moving walls and bookcases that opened to reveal secret alcoves behind them. Except for the last sketch, which showed an entire room rising from the ground, its four walls dotted with large portholes set at different heights.
He leafed back through the series, this time noting that each drawing was populated with simply rendered male and female children varying in ages from toddlers to young teenagers, all wearing huge smiles, all totally engrossed in the moment as they danced, sat quietly reading a book, or dueled with wooden swords.
Jesse lifted his head and rubbed his face on a deep breath, then simply sat staring off at nothing. Heâd been ten, Ben fourteen, and Sam sixteen when theyâd gone to live with Bram and Grammy Rose after their parents had died in a plane crash. And although its forty rooms, indulgent staff, and sprawling twelve hundred acres had been every kidâs dream of a personal adventure land, on that day Rosebriar had gone from being whatever their wild imaginations could conjure up to merely being their home.
And judging from the sketches sheâd drawn while heâd been in the grocery store, Jesse decided Cadi hadnât been boasting about spending the last three months getting to know him intimately. Hell, it
Freeing one of the beers and popping the tab, Jesse actually groaned as he took a long guzzle. He took two more guzzles before shoveling several forkfuls of lukewarm stuffing and potato in his mouth, then picked up the beer again with one hand while he opened the notebook with the other, only to stop the beer halfway to his mouth as he stared down at the pencil sketch on the first page. It wasnât so much the small boy soaring high on a swing suspended from a towering pine that caught him off guard, but rather the name
Sinclair
, written in the upper right-hand corner of the page, under which was written,
Add swing to pine tree on the large house model before Friday.
He closed the notebook just enough to see the front cover, even though he knew this wasnât the one sheâd had at his meeting with Stanley back in February, as it had been twice this size and thinner. He opened it up to lay flat on the table, deciding Cadi must carry this one in her purse to quickly sketch ideas when they came to her. The woman might claim she saw things three-dimensionally, but she certainly didnât have any trouble rendering in two dimensions.
He took a quick swig of beer, then turned the page to find a sketch of . . . Hell, was that the Mad Hatter from
Alice in Wonderland
sitting in a water fountain, holding a bulging-eyed rabbit by the neck? Or maybe . . . well, whichever character he was, the guy definitely looked sinister. Jesse saw the name
Stapleton
at the top, then grinned to see
pompous ass
written beneath it.
He slowly turned pages, noting the different names above the mostly happy, animated characters, some commanding two and even three sketches. Other clients, Jesse figured, whose rough study models Cadi must be working on for Stanley. He stopped when he saw the Sinclair name again, quickly leafed through several more pages to see they all contained similar sketches before going blank, then went back to the beginning of the series.
With the same reverent awe heâd felt as heâd studied his house on the island model, Jesse slowly worked his way through the hastily-drawn sketches; not of his home, he realized, but of what appeared to be several . . . playhouses with moving walls and bookcases that opened to reveal secret alcoves behind them. Except for the last sketch, which showed an entire room rising from the ground, its four walls dotted with large portholes set at different heights.
He leafed back through the series, this time noting that each drawing was populated with simply rendered male and female children varying in ages from toddlers to young teenagers, all wearing huge smiles, all totally engrossed in the moment as they danced, sat quietly reading a book, or dueled with wooden swords.
Jesse lifted his head and rubbed his face on a deep breath, then simply sat staring off at nothing. Heâd been ten, Ben fourteen, and Sam sixteen when theyâd gone to live with Bram and Grammy Rose after their parents had died in a plane crash. And although its forty rooms, indulgent staff, and sprawling twelve hundred acres had been every kidâs dream of a personal adventure land, on that day Rosebriar had gone from being whatever their wild imaginations could conjure up to merely being their home.
And judging from the sketches sheâd drawn while heâd been in the grocery store, Jesse decided Cadi hadnât been boasting about spending the last three months getting to know him intimately. Hell, it
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