The Winner by David Baldacci

“Actually it does. If it’s an art studio, I’d make sure there was sufficient lighting, maybe put in some skylights, and a ventilation system to carry the paint fumes out. If she just wants to use it to get away, read or sleep, I’d configure it differently.”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, I don’t know what she plans to use it for. But she doesn’t paint, that I know.”

The men fell silent until that silence was interrupted by the sounds of LuAnn and Lisa approaching. The door to the terrace opened and the pair came out.

In person, Lisa Savage resembled her mother even more than in the photo. They both walked the same way, easy glides, no wasted energy.

“This is Mr. Riggs, Lisa.”

Riggs had not been around many children in his life, but he did what came naturally. He put out his hand. “Call me Matt, Lisa. Pleased to meet you.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “Pleased to meet you, Matt.”

“That’s quite a grip.” He glanced up at LuAnn and then Charlie. “That particular attribute must run in the family. If I keep coming over here I might have to start wearing a steel glove.”

Lisa smiled.

“Matthew is going to build a studio for me, Lisa. Out there somewhere.” She pointed toward the rear grounds.

Lisa looked up at the house in undisguised wonderment. “Isn’t our house big enough?”

All the adults burst into laughter at that one and finally Lisa joined in too.

“What’s the studio for?” Lisa asked.

“Well, maybe it’ll be kind of a surprise. In fact, I might let you use it too, sometimes.”

Lisa grinned broadly at the news.

“But only if you keep your grades up,” said Charlie. “By the way, how’d your test go?” Charlie’s tone was gruff, but it clearly was all a facade. It was obvious to Riggs that the old guy loved Lisa as much as he did her mother, if not more.

Lisa’s mouth dropped into a pout. “I didn’t get an A.”

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Charlie said kindly. “Probably my fault. I’m not all that good with math.”

Lisa suddenly broke into a big smile. “I got an A plus.”

Charlie playfully cuffed her head. “You got your mother’s sense of humor, that’s for sure.”

LuAnn said, “Miss Sally has some lunch ready for you. I know you didn’t get a chance to eat at school. Run along and I’ll see you after I finish up with Matthew.”

LuAnn and Riggs walked through the rear grounds. Charlie had begged off. He had some things to do, he had said.

After Riggs had walked the property he pointed to a clearing that was level, had an unobstructed view of the distant mountains, but still had shade trees on two sides. “That looks like a nice spot. Actually, with this much land, you probably have a number of potential locations. By the way, if I knew what you were going to use the place for I could make a more informed choice for the site.” He looked around. “And you have a number of outbuildings already. Another option would be to convert one of those into a studio.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was clear on that. I want it done from scratch. None of the other buildings would really do. I want it set up like yours. Two stories. The first floor could be set up as a workshop for some of my hobbies, that is, when I get around to having some hobbies. Lisa is into drawing and she’s getting pretty good. Maybe I could take up sculpting. That seems like a very relaxing pastime. On the second level I want a woodstove, a telescope, comfortable furniture, built-in bookcases, maybe a small kitchen, bay windows.”

Riggs nodded and looked around. “I saw the pool area. Are you planning on a poolhouse and maybe tennis courts?”

“Next spring. Why?”

“I was just thinking that we might want to tie those and the studio into an overall plan. You know, use the same materials or some combo thereof with the poolhouse and the studio.”

LuAnn shook her head. “No, I want it separate. We’ll put in a large gazebo for outdoor entertaining and all that. It’ll be mostly Lisa using the pool and tennis courts. I want those facilities closer to the main house. The pool is already close. The studio I want farther away. Sort of hidden.”

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