Shonee's POV

The next day...

Jordin picked up a set of Kolinsky sable brushes, eyes widening at the prize tag. "Yeesh, who knew art supplies were so expensive?" She dumped the set back on the shelf.

"Quality costs, Jordin," I chuckled. "If you want your art to speak for itself, sometimes you've gotta invest in the tools."

"Well, thank God I'm not an artist," she remarked, then walked past me to check out the rest of the shop.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon. After the shitty day I had yesterday, I spent most of this morning in bed, until I decided to do something profitable by returning to my passion: art.

I let my eyes wander across the vibrant shelves. Brushes, canvases, tubes of paint... It had been too long since I'd allowed myself to just soak up the potential of a blank canvas. Since I'd taken up the job as Mirasol's nanny, my own art had taken a backseat. I missed the peace, the release, and thrill of seeing something come to life under my hands. I couldn't wait to get back into it all, plus it was a good way to keep busy.

Picking up one last tube of paint, I headed over to the counter to pay when I felt my phone buzz in my jeans pocket. I reached into it and pulled the device out. Vincent's name glowed on the screen for like... the hundredth time today. He'd been trying to reach me since last night, and I'd been doing everything I could to avoid his calls.

My thumb hovered over the answer button, tempted to just pick up and tell him to stop calling, but before I could take the plunge, I sighed and pressed the red button instead, ignoring the ache in my chest.

"You can't keep doing that forever, you know." Jordin appeared behind me with two ice cream cones in hand.

"Yeah, I know," I heaved again and slipped my phone back into my pocket. "I've thought about blocking him, believe me. But...I can't bring myself to do it."

After paying for the stuff, Jordin handed me one ice cream before we walked out of the shop. Boulevard Street was lively, filled with people chatting, laughing, and going about their day. It was almost enough to distract me from the hollow feeling inside...almost.

"Do you know why you can't block Vincent?" Jordin questioned but didn't really wait for an answer. "It's because you're still thinking about everything you left behind. Part of you is wondering if your absence has fixed things like the Beckhams said it would."

"You're right," I admit before taking a swipe at my mint chocolate ice cream swirl. "I mean, since I moved in last night, not a single second has gone by without me wondering how Nancy is treating Mirasol now that I'm not there."

"Oh, now that you're not there, I'd bet on my grandma's lucky shoes that Mirasol is giving Nancy one heck of a tantrum." Jordin laughed. "Remember that day I met you guys at the fair, and Mirasol wanted to go on all the rides?"

"How could I forget?" Though I rolled my eyes, I couldn't help but smile at the memory. "She wouldn't take no for an answer. For a five-year-old, that girl is very persistent. She even had her own negotiation tactics." A laugh seeped past my lips. "She's a handful, that girl. But I kind of admire it. That stubborn streak will take her far if she channels it the right way."

"I know right," Jordin grinned, taking a lick of her ice cream. "Let's just hope her mother has the patience to handle her."

"Hm, I highly doubt it." When my gaze shifted across the street, my legs came to a complete halt. Speak of the devil... "Jordin, look."

There, not more than twenty feet away, was Nancy Beckham dressed in a fine black, long coat. The coat's collar was propped up, probably to conceal her face. Next to her was a man I wasn't familiar with. He was tall, had jet-black hair, and an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. They stood in front of a building, eyes flitting around like they didn't want anyone watching them.

The moment Nancy's eyes flickered in our direction, Jordin and I ducked, seeking cover behind a parked SUV. Thankfully, she didn't see us because her gaze continued to flit around.

"What the heck is she doing here?" Jordin asked as we both peeked over the hood of the car.

"I don't know. But whatever it is, it looks shady as fuck."

An older man stepped out of the house behind them and locked up the doors. He met Nancy and her gentleman friend in front and handed her a crisp folder. Nancy flipped through the contents with keen observation, till she gave the old man a satisfied nod. All three of them shook hands before Nancy and her gentleman friend slipped into one of the Beckham Porsche cars that was waiting not far off.

"Do you think she's buying the house?" Jordin quizzed when Nancy's car moved away and we emerged from our hiding spot.

"Maybe." I frowned. "But...Nancy just moved in with the Beckhams, who by the way, live in a huge mansion with enough rooms to spare. Why would she be buying a house if she's living with them?"

Jordin shrugged, adjusting her glasses. "She probably just wants to own property in New York. You know how these rich people are. They like to buy stuff just because they can."

True. But why now? It's barely been a week since she moved in with the Beckhams. What triggered this move? Several questions jumped around in my head, feeding into my curiosity. So much so that, when the old man from earlier crossed the street to the pavement we were on, I acted before I could even second-guess myself.

"Excuse me, sir," I called out, stepping forward with a polite smile.

The man paused, looking at me with mild curiosity. He was older, maybe in his seventies, with a worn, weathered face that hinted at years of experience in the real estate business.

"Yes?" he replied, tipping his hat back slightly.

"Hi, uh I noticed you just locked up that house across the street." I jabbed a thumb in the house's direction. "I'm actually looking around the neighbourhood for a place myself. Could you please tell me a bit about it?"

"Oh of course." The old man gave me a broad smile, happy to have attracted another client. "It's a beauty, isn't it? With lots of history too. Sam Reynolds, the previous owner, took great care of it. It's been empty for a little while, but it's in perfect condition."

"Oh, that's great to know," I said, leaning in just enough to seem interested but not overly eager. "Do you happen to know why someone like Mrs. Beckham would want a place like this? I mean, she already lives in one of the biggest estates in the city, right?"

The old man's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me. "I don't believe I'm at liberty to discuss the details of why she's interested in this property."

Crap. I laughed softly, attempting to ease away his suspicion. "Of course, of course, I didn't mean to pry. It's just that she seemed so... intent. You know?"

He gave me a tight smile, clearly not buying my casual attempt to dig deeper. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you, Miss. If you'll excuse me." With that, he tipped his hat, turned, and walked briskly down the sidewalk, leaving me with more questions than I'd started with.

As I watched him go, Jordin stepped up beside me. "Well, that was subtle," she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

"Not subtle enough, apparently," I muttered, crossing my arms. "But at least now we know Nancy's interested in the place. And if she's interested... " I turned back to the building across the street. "She'll definitely be back."

******