She had overslept after tossing and turning for most of the night, worried she’d be late, and she had raced to get ready. He was a tall, pleasant-looking man in his mid-thirties, and he had brought everything he needed with him, notepads, measuring tape, camera, computer. Juliette apologized profusely for being late when she got there, with her hair in a wild haze of blond curls, which she hadn’t had time to brush properly. She’d worn blue jeans and running shoes, so she could explore everywhere with him, and didn’t care if she got dirty. He had worn a blazer and jeans, and he looked startled when he saw her. “I imagined someone much older,” he said as they walked into the château. He seemed more interested in Juliette than in the building or the repairs. He spoke perfect English, which made it easy for her. “I just inherited it from my father,” she explained. “I own it with my sisters. I’m going to buy them out, and turn it into a hotel.” “That’s an interesting idea,”
