"Do you have any of your things from the London house?" Noah asked as he flopped on Drew's huge new bed.

"No, I donated all of it," Drew answered.

"You're kidding! Why? You could've sold it with house if nothing else, couldn't you?" Noah asked, rolling over to look at his brother. William Wallace jumped on the bed to lie down next to Noah. "Wasn't it a right bother to donate it?"

Drew sat up from where he was measuring under the window for a table. "Yeah, sort of, but if word got out that Drew Pennington was not only selling his house, but the stuff in it, people would try to sell it or club together to try to buy it, and it would've been an absolute mess. Much easier to donate it to charity and no one the wiser, get it?

"I wasn't attached to any of it, just like I wasn't attached to the house," he finished, making a notation on the pad. "That decorator person bought everything and did the whole place up, I never felt like it belonged to me. It was just a really nice house where I stayed when I happened to be in London." He looked around. "This place, though, it feels different. I think I'm going to like it here.

"I think it could be home."

Ellie came in from the hallway. "I've measured the bedrooms, and I think I've finished. Did you know that there are five others, just on this floor?" She looked at Drew, hands on hips. "This place is massive, son."

Drew smiled. "Yeah, I think there are some more upstairs, too, where the attic is? Smaller, but snug, cute, I think."

"Maybe for a nursery? Children's rooms?" Ellie suggested innocently.

"Oh god, brother, don't get her started," Noah begged. "I'm not even out of the house yet and you've got her thinking about nappies and pablum and all that."

"Mum, seriously, I'm not even close to those things," Drew said, straightening his back and stretching out the kinks he'd gotten from being bent over for so long.

"I know, I know," she assured him, smiling. "I'm just excited that you're at least talking in terms owning a real home at last, that's all. I knew that you never felt connected to the Holland Park house in London. It was beautiful, but it felt like an impersonal hotel. This place, though," she she said, looking around. "This is a place you could really stay."

They heard the front door open downstairs.

"Hello?" a familiar voice called. "Drew? Where are you?"

"Upstairs, Neddy!"

Ellie smiled and clapped her hands. "Ned, how wonderful, we haven't seen him since the show in Oslo, have we?"

There was a thundering of feet on the stairs, and William Wallace jumped off the bed to greet one of his favorite people, whose voice and footsteps he recognized.

Ned blew into the master bedroom like the stocky blond sirocco he was, exuding exuberance and cheer.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, sweeping Ellie into an embrace. Ned, who had left home at sixteen, didn't really have a relationship with his own mom, and had kind of adopted Ellie as a surrogate, and the feeling was completely mutual.

William Wallace barked with happiness and excitement as he bounced round his mom and Ned.

"Hello, little man," he called with a wave at Noah. "What are you up to?" The moniker was said in good fun, since Noah was at least four inches taller than Ned, though Ned, at twenty-four, was ten years older than Drew's little brother.

"Ned, how are you?" Noah answered from his place on the bed. "I'm helping measure for furniture, can't you tell? Why are you here?"

Ned grinned. "Same," he admitted. "Came to help with the measuring."

Drew looked up from where he was still scribbling on the pad. "All the beds for these first story rooms are being delivered any minute now, and I made sure they're bringing pillows and bedding for all of them, so you'll all at least have places to sleep tonight, yeah?"

His phone dinged with a text. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at it, and said, "Oh, there they are now." He tapped back a response, and said, "Gotta go downstairs and let them in," as he left the room.

Drew loped down the stairs, noticing in passing that the scary and mean gardener girl Chiara had indeed moved to the front, and was working inside the circular area that contained the fountain.

He went around to the back to where he'd directed the trucks.

"Hello," he called cheerfully. "Figured it would be easier to get everything though these massive French doors, yeah?"

"Definitely," the cheerful delivery men responded.

"Do you mind how close we get the truck to the garden and the brickwork here?" the driver of the truck called. "It's just that the closer I can get the truck, the less we have to carry it, you see."

"Not a problem," Drew answered with a careless wave of his arm. He was trying to unlock the other side of the French door, reaching up to pull the bolt that locked it in place.

"There we go," he said with satisfaction when it finally pulled free.

"Oy, this is nice, completely empty, Stanny," the first delivery man called to his partner. "No weaving about to avoid tables and such."

"The table and chairs are supposed to be delivered in a bit, actually," Drew informed them.

The two men began unloading the mattress frames, and Drew went upstairs ahead of them to tell them which frames went in which rooms. Then, while they went back for the box springs and mattresses, two other men began assembling the frames.

Ellie was already unwrapping the sheets and pillowcases in the laundry room, getting everything washed and dried so the beds would be ready for everyone to sleep on that night.

"Drew?" she called. "Where are the blankets? The duvets and things?"

"Downstairs den," he responded. "That room off the large room at the front of the house? Don't worry, everything's still wrapped, nothing's getting dirty.

"And mum? Can you call in for some takeaway for our tea in a bit, please? The number's on the island in the kitchen. Get plenty, yeah?"

So Ellie got the wash going and went in search of the coverings, which she did find in the small room that opened off the large reception room at the front of the house.

"I swear, a person could get lost in this place," she murmured to herself, shaking her head.

She saw Chiara through the windows, kneeling in the circular garden in front of the house. She smiled to herself, remembering her son's extreme reaction to her when they arrived earlier, and on a whim, she went out to talk to her.

"Hello," she hailed the young woman, shading her eyes against the afternoon glare.

Chiara turned around, pulling her earbuds out of her ears.

"Oh, hello, Ms. Pennington," she replied with a smile. "May I help you?"

"Please, call me Ellie."

"Okay, Ellie," Chiara agreed with a nod. "Did you need something? You want me to move my pickup?"

"No, nothing like that. We're all working like mad inside--" she stopped, smiled and amended her words. "Well, some of us are, and we're going to order takeaway for our tea in a bit, and I wondered if you'd like to join us? It won't be anything fancy," she assured Chiara. "In fact, if the table doesn't make it in time, it will be eaten on the floor," she laughed.

"That sounds lovely," Chiara said, nodding again. "If you're sure you have enough?"

"I'm going to order it in a bit, and I'm going to order plenty, no worries," Ellie assured her. "Do you like Indian curries?"

"Sounds smashing," Chiara enthused.

"Right, then. I'll let you know when it's arrived," Ellie told her.

She went back inside to the air-conditioned interior and finished her original errand of going to the den for the blankets and coverlets for the beds.

An hour or so later, the beds were all assembled, the comforters were waiting to go on, the table had been delivered, and the takeaway had been ordered. Ellie had everything well in hand.

"Ned, dear, would you please go and tell Chiara to come inside and wash up for tea?"

"Chiara?"

"Yes, the gardener who's working out front? I invited her to share our takeaway."

"Mum!" This from Drew, who was washing his hands at the sink. "Please tell me you didn't. You didn't, did you?" He looked at his mother. "This house is supposed to be my sanctuary, my retreat! I told you that girl and I don't get on, I told you! She's a nightmare, honestly!" He turned off the tap, much harder than necessary. "Shit!" he muttered under his breath.

"Drew, language," his mother admonished automatically.

"She's been working so hard out there all day," Ellie protested. "I see no harm in inviting her in out of the heat for a bit to sit and rest and share some food."

"I pay her for her hard work," Drew said to his mother, getting a cold bottle of water from the brand-new gigantic refrigerator and sitting morosely at the table. "I don't owe her a damned thing."

Ned stood uncertainly. "So am I getting her or not?" he asked.

"You have to now," Noah said reasonably. "Mum's already invited her and all."

Drew didn't say anything, but waved his hand toward the front in an "I give up" gesture.

Ned grinned at his bandmate and went to the front, where he found Chiara dumping clippings into a garbage can.

"Time to come in and wash up for tea," he told her with his signature smile.

"I'm Ned, by the way," he announced.

"I know," Chiara replied, embarrassed to be meeting one of the most handsome and eligible men in England while covered in dirt. She knew she had some on her face, but she couldn't even wipe it because she didn't know exactly where it was. "I'm Chiara, pleasure. Let me get the skip put away and I'll be right in," she told him.

"How about if I take care of the skip, and you scoot inside," Ned suggested, tipping the can and beginning to pull it.

"Thanks," Chiara said. "I'm going to go around to the back, though, so I don't track all this dirt through the house."

Ned pulled the trash can around to where it belonged and went back in the house. He got to the kitchen in time to see Chiara standing in the entry of the French doors with a face like a thundercloud. He wondered what had happened.

"May I speak to you outside for a moment?" Chiara asked Drew.

"What? Really?" Drew looked at her.

"Yes, really." Chiara's voice was clipped, her eyes narrowed.

Drew looked around, at Ned, Noah, and his mother. Everyone looked completely blank.

"Erm, okay," he answered, rising.

As soon as he stepped out and shut the door, they could hear Chiara go off, pointing at the ground, gesticulating wildly as she shouted at Drew.

Drew, showing good sense, was standing stock still, letting her get out whatever it was that was bothering her so much.

"Blimey, wonder what's got her knickers in such a twist?" Ned mused out loud.

"Did you just say 'blimey?'" Noah repeated with a snicker. "I'm sorry, but are you ninety?"

"Shut up," Ned retorted.

Meanwhile, outside, Drew felt as though his hair was going to combust in a minute from the vitriol pouring from Chiara's mouth. She was going on and on about--what?

"Did you even notice where they were driving?" she asked, nearly spitting in her anger. "I assume you are the one who told them it was okay to back their monster lorry up here, right over these brand new plantings?"

Ohhhhh.

The mists began to clear for Drew.

He looked closely. There did seem to be some delicate green things smashed and buried in the soft earth under the tire marks of the delivery van.

Oops.

"I mean, how could you? Do you know how long it took to get those cuttings to root?" Chiara asked, turning agonized blue eyes to Drew. She got to her knees, digging a couple of the ruined cuttings out, and they did indeed look pitiful and broken.

She turned again to Drew, and he noticed with horror that she was now crying; at least, she had tears in her eyes. They hadn't spilled over, but that was surely the next step in this nightmare he'd stumbled into.

No way. This wasn't his fault. He hadn't even told the men they could park there, had he?

"Hey!" he barked, stopping her in her tracks. "First of all, I didn't tell the delivery blokes anything, okay? Other than that they should come round back because these doors were wider. Second, I am, in fact, owner of this house, including all of the grounds, and if this--" he flicked at the broken planting that she still cradled in her hand, "--doesn't bother me, it shouldn't bother you, should it?" He glared at her. "Third, you work for me, and I don't appreciate your tone at all. Please be a bit more civil when you talk to me, yeah?"

Chiara looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Wanker," she said, careful to enunciate each syllable. She dropped the ruined seedling back into the dirt and tried to walk around him.

"Oy, where d'you think you're going?" he asked.

"I need to wash up," she said as if it should be obvious. "Your mum very kindly invited me to tea, and I don't like to keep a kind hostess waiting. I wasn't raised that way, was I? Kindly step aside, please."

Nonplussed, Drew moved, just enough for her to get by.

Chiara took her shoes off and walked through the doors, carefully closing them again behind her. Drew saw her through the glass, talking to the three people inside, complete with gestures, presumably explaining what had happened outside. He could see Noah making expressions of commiseration and sympathy.

Traitor.

Then Chiara stepped to the bathroom to clean up, and his mother turned to look at him. Drew could see her trying really hard not to laugh at him.

Dammit.

Drew opened the door and entered, just as the bell rang for the front gate, indicating that the takeaway had arrived.

Drew had no appetite, but knew he had to eat.

He hated being laughed at more than anything.