“Oh, you’d notice them,” Joanna said, talking into her wine glass as she brought it to her lips.

Addison tilted her head to the side. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Joanna said. Placing the empty glass back on the table, she got to her feet. “Shall we?”

“The sun’s already gone down. It’s too dark.”

“That’s what you think.”

***

By the time they reached the door in the parlor leading to the patio, Chauncey was doing his happy puppy dance, so Joanna quickly let him out before flipping on a series of light switches hidden behind the drapes. Flashing Addison a grin, she gestured toward the door without saying a word. With Addison’s reaction to the removal of the ivy still fresh in her mind, Joanna held her breath as they stepped outside, and waiting in silence, she watched as Addison slowly took in her surroundings.

Addison’s mouth fell open as she surveyed what was before her. It was the most prestigious patio she had ever seen.

Light fixtures, long since destroyed by rust and plant had been found under the ivy, and while it had been a scramble to find replicas, Samson had done just that. Six massive wall sconces, regal and old world, now hung from the house, and with the help of strips of LED lights hidden under the new railing, the entire veranda was awash in light.

Every piece of slate was gone and in its place were rectangular slabs of Yorkstone in varying sizes. Narrow and wide, short and long, while the predominant color of the natural English sandstone was blue and gray, swatches of buff could be seen throughout. In place of the antiquated iron railing, Samson and his team had installed a balustrade system constructed of precast concrete. At first, Addison believed the sculpted balusters to be a bit bulky, but as she looked across the patio, she found she was wrong. Anything less beefy would have looked minuscule.

Without so much as a glance in Joanna’s direction, Addison took a few steps, but paused long enough to look down at her feet before she continued to the first of two new staircases leading to the gardens. Coming to a stop at the top of the first set of stairs, her eyes followed the steps as they gently curved toward the left, while the other, a dozen yards to her right, turned in the opposite direction. The treads were deep and covered in Yorkstone, and as she descended and ran her hand down the thick railing, she had no doubt it would stand for centuries if allowed.