Prologue
Months ago in California . . .
Trent Faulkner drove his rented pickup truck up to the large iron gate and stopped. A security guard stepped from a booth made to look like a miniature Spanish-style house similar to the gargantuan mansions behind the gates. He wasn’t in Shadows Landing anymore, that was for sure. Trent looked in his rearview mirror and saw the large box truck come to a stop behind him.
“Good afternoon,” the middle-aged security guard said as he stopped by Trent’s open window. He had a tablet in one hand and rested his other hand on what looked to be a can of mace.
“Good afternoon,” Trent greeted him with the Southern manners born and bred into him from generations of Southern mommas. “I’m Trent Faulkner, and the truck behind me and I are due at Miss Jessamine’s house for a three o’clock appointment.”
“Company name?” the man said as he scrolled through the tablet.
“TAF Designs.”
Trent looked around at the tall gates and fences. It felt caged-in here, right down to the gated entrance and guard on duty. Give him wide-open lawns and views of the river or ocean any time. But, being from the small town of Shadows Landing, South Carolina, just outside Charleston had made him biased. He loved his hometown and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
“Ah, there you are. Miss Jessamine’s house is down the fifth road on your right. It’s in the back on the left.”
“Thank you. Have a good day,” Trent told the guard. He put his truck in gear as the gate slowly rolled open.
Skye Jessamine, Trent thought as he followed the directions to her house. He still couldn’t believe the top-grossing Hollywood actress had commissioned him to build a dining room set. Trent had seen a couple of her movies, but he was more of a book guy than a movie guy. It didn’t mean he didn’t know who she was, though. It would be hard not to. Skye Jessamine’s face was on the cover of practically every magazine on the newsstand. Then when you did turn on the television or go to the movies, you were sure to see her on the screen.
Trent turned into the mansion’s driveway and stopped at yet another gate. He pressed the call button and a woman answered it. “Yes?”
“This is Trent Faulkner. I’m here to install the dining room furniture.”
“Oh, yes. I’ll open the gate and meet you out front.”
The gate opened and Trent and the box truck drove slowly down the long driveway and into the circular drive by the front door. Front door didn’t quite describe the twelve-foot double doors that looked to be from hand-carved mahogany with large brass handles.
One of the doors opened before Trent even had the truck in park. While he might not be up to date on pop culture, he knew the woman waving at him wasn’t Skye Jessamine. In pictures, Skye had shining brunette hair and blue eyes that were so bright they looked turquoise. This woman’s hair was a glossy dark brown on the verge of being black and her eyes were a soft and welcoming walnut color.
Trent smiled at her and stepped from the truck. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Trent Faulkner.”
The woman smiled widely up at him. She was taller than Trent’s female cousins. He’d put her at five feet nine inches and from what he could see of her exposed arms in the flowy tank top she wore and her legs on display in colorful shorts, she was definitely an athlete.
“I’m Karri Hill. I’m Skye’s friend. May I have everyone’s cell phones, please?” Trent shook her hand as his mind worked.
“You’re the assistant who emailed me,” he said as he remembered the message that got this project rolling.
He handed over his phone as Karri rolled her eyes but kept the smile on her face. “Assistant and chef. However, I’m her friend first and foremost. We saw your furniture in that architectural magazine and both fell in love with your style. Skye’s finishing up a call and will be here to help us install the piece. Do you want to see where it’ll go?”
“That will help, thank you.” Trent had always felt that his furniture was both art and meant for everyday life. It could be shown in exceptional light to look its best, but it was also meant to be part of the household. It wasn’t just a showpiece. The various pieces were where you ate dinner every day, slept every night, or relaxed on when you needed a moment to yourself.
“Right this way. We’ve been talking about this day since we ordered it six months ago.”
Trent motioned for his movers to follow him into the mansion. The four men kept quiet behind him as they walked into the large marble-floored entrance with a modern light fixture hanging down from the three-story high entrance hall. Skye’s house didn’t quite feel like a home. It was more of a showpiece. At least this entrance was.
“Skye loves architecture and design. She helped create every room in the house.”
“She’d get along great with my cousin Ridge. He’s an architect and builder. In fact, the way she uses original historic pieces mixed with modern touches is very much his style.”
Karri nodded. “Oh yes. After she looked you up, she found several references to Ridge and just loves his work.”
Trent was surprised at that. Skye had taken the time to look into him and his family just because she liked some of his work? That was more hands-on than he thought she’d be.
“I reached out to you first, but after you agreed to build the set, Skye researched everything. I might have sent the email, but ideas were all hers.”
They turned down a hall that was lined on one side with nothing but old Spanish-styled glass doors that were all propped open to let in the warm California breeze. “This is the private wing of the house. The first room we come to is the dining room. It’ll be the only room in the private wing to be photographed next week for Skye’s article in the same architectural magazine that you were featured in,” Karri explained.
“Private wing?” Trent asked as the hallway ended and the private wing began to sprawl outward.
Karri stopped at the arched opening to a large and mostly empty room. However, the far wall was the only decoration needed. It was a view of the Los Angeles cityscape off in the distance. The floor-to-ceiling glass doors could be opened to let in the breeze or to make a party flow effortlessly between indoors and outdoors.
“Yes. Skye has the main wing decorated for parties, media interviews, and at-home shoots for magazines. However, she doesn’t live there. She lives here in the private wing. It’s just the two of us here. And I’m in the pool house, so it’s not like she needs the space,” Karri laughed as if it was a big joke. “Sorry, if you knew where we met you’d get it. Anyway, this is the private wing and where she actually lives.”
Trent stepped into the room and looked around. By all accounts the room appeared to be self-contained and only open to the hallway. The right wall was filled with a glassed-in wine rack that went from the floor to the top of the eighteen-foot ceiling. To the left was where he’d put the large credenza he’d built.
“Where does this door go?” he asked about the door built to look like part of the wall to the left.
“To the kitchens.”
“Multiple kitchens?” Trent asked, not really expecting an answer but more just wondering why.