Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I knew you were a good one,” he says, squeezing my fingertips in solidarity. “As for bears, the fact is, I haven’t had the means to maintain the house, never mind expand the safari park. We’ve been operating on a shoestring budget for years.”
Yep, that’s right. It’s not as bait that Oliver has me tagging along. I’m here because the house that Mandy is trying to sell has a mother-freakin’ safari park attached to it. It’s not just the house that’s his heritage; it’s the park and animals too. And I am going to kick Oliver’s ass when I get him alone next, because this is the reason he’s been so vague about it all. The potential Mrs. Deubel is not just a pretty face!
“You likely have lots in common” and “Just be yourself” were just Oliver speak for I don’t want you to ask too many questions. Oh, and I have questions. And I have fears. And if I don’t get the answers I want, then . . .
I don’t know what I’m going to do about it, but I’ll think of something.
I already feel guilty about being here, about taking part in this. I mean, I’m here for Nora, as well as for my own benefit, and I know I can’t champion every cause, but I also can’t lie to this sweet man.
“Eve?” Mandy’s expression is full of concern.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling myself from my thoughts. “I was just thinking about a documentary I saw.”
“Bears?” He frowns. “I think I know the one you mean. A nasty business.” He pats my hand again like I’m a delicate flower.
Northaby House Safari Park was created by Mandy’s grandfather, who turned part of its vast grounds into the kind of place the local populace could, for a price, see lions and tigers and giraffes. He was a man ahead of his time, Mandy explains, because most men of his generation would’ve settled on a grand hunting tour where the only animals brought home would’ve been the ones they shot. Shot, stuffed, mounted, and set behind glass.
“Sadly, I’m getting on in years. I love the place, but it’s time I looked to the future. The sad fact of the matter is, Northaby requires an influx of cash to keep it going. Quite frankly, my dear, I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a house of cards.” He laughs but not with humor.
“It must be very difficult for you.”
“It’s been a trial trying to find someone who has both the means and the interest to keep it as it is.” He sighs. “I thought I’d found someone, but he seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.”
Mitchell, maybe? It’s so ridiculous, the lengths that both Oliver and that prick will go to get their hands on Northaby. Mandy should probably look elsewhere, because neither of them are worthy of his legacy. And Oliver can barely cope with one dog!
How the hell did I get myself embroiled in this? I can’t lie to this sweetheart, and I won’t commit to anything that harms his wildlife.
“Quite honestly, I’ve been avoiding Oliver,” Mandy admits. “He’s someone who is known for making money from things he takes apart. He makes things shiny, new, and profitable, and safari parks are a lot of work. I didn’t want to see my animals shipped all over the world and the house turned into a hotel.”
“I understand,” I answer quietly.
“But if you were to tell me—”
“I still can’t quite get my head around a safari park in rural England,” I announce, cutting him off.
“You should visit. Both you and Oliver.”
“We’ll buy tickets.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You’re welcome anytime, and you’ll be at the ball, of course.”
“Oh, yes. The ball . . .” The ball I know nothing about. Thanks for nothing, Oliver.
Mandy chuckles. “It’s just my little fundraising attempt. My annual gala charity ball. Perhaps Oliver didn’t mention it?”
“He likes to keep surprising me,” I answer, with a smile that feels weird.
“Smitten!” Mandy announces, like he’s genuinely delighted. “We might not be the only safari park in the country, but I think we’re the finest.” It’s like he’s trying to impress me.
“I’m sure.”
“And it’s not so strange. Think safari and your mind goes to the Serengeti—the great plains, dry heat, and Maasai warriors. But the animals don’t mind our gray skies, thatched cottages, and old ladies at the bus stop complaining about the rain.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t have it any other way,” I answer fondly. “I love living here.” Though I do prefer it when my life isn’t unraveling at the seams.
“Do you know the savanna means a treeless plain?”
“Does that describe your land?”
“Not at all!” he scoffs. “Northaby has extensive woodlands. But lions fare just as well in the rain and wind. And the monkeys at Northaby will snap off your windshield wipers just as easily as they would in Kruger National Park. Ah, listen to me, boring a pretty girl with tales of my menagerie and me.”