He even liked the kitschier details

He even liked the kitschier details of the décor: the lamps whose bases were made from what looked like trophies—horse trophies, he assumed—and the porcelain statuettes of hunting dogs pointing at an unseen quarry. All these prevented the room from feeling like a museum, or worse, a mausoleum.
And though the room had a lived-in feel to it, the Radcliffes were obviously taking pains to care for the antique furniture. Every piece gleamed softly, polished and dust-free. The pieces in the second parlor must require special care; they’d been covered with sheets for extra protection.
He crossed the center of the room, admiring the carved capitals of the columns. A low whistle of appreciation escaped him when he saw the grand piano tucked into the corner of the second parlor. He had a sudden vision of women in white and men in cutaways, cognac snifters in hand, as the notes of the piano floated through, as clear as the crystal teardrops of the chandeliers. Okay, this place was really something, but it was time to cut out the ghostly fantasies, he told himself.
The muffled giggle behind him had the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.
He spun around and saw no one—no Jordan, vastly entertained by his architect’s awestruck expression for what to her was simply her family home. So who the hell had made the noise?
The laughter came again, this time followed by an equally loud “Shhhh!” and his eyes zeroed in on the sheet-draped furniture.
They were in there. The kids. Damn. He’d have preferred a few moldy ghosts.
He really didn’t do kids. Perhaps if he was quiet they’d leave him alone.
No such luck. The sheet twitched like a live thing. Three little faces appeared in the vee where two sheets, draped over the backs of chairs, met.
They were staring at him. Six round eyes unblinking. The two older ones had on jodhpurs, long-sleeved polo shirts, and socks. The littlest one, about two feet tall, wore elastic-waisted blue jeans and a pink shirt.
“Uh, hi.”
“Who are you?” The largest one, a girl, asked.
“I’m Owen.”
There was a silence as they digested that piece of information.
One of them was a boy, with hair Jordan’s deep russet color. His eyes, however, were a greenish brown. Across his nose and cheeks there was a liberal smattering of freckles, which Owen knew many would find the height of adorableness. But he was too preoccupied by the weird, bright orange smear across the kid’s face to feel any softening of the heart. It looked like the boy had been drawing on his face with a marker. Then he opened his mouth and Owen saw the stuff crusted on his teeth.
“Are you here to weed?” the boy demanded.
Did he look like a gardener? “No.”
“That’s my sister’s book.” His stubby index finger pointed accusingly. “Are you going to weed to us?”
“Oh, right, read, not weed—no,” he said hastily. “I’m not here to read. I came to see Jord—uh, your mom.”
“Are you a friend of Mommy’s?”
He hesitated. That was a tough one. How to answer? “I guess so.”
“Do you want to sit in our tent?”
He didn’t know which was more unnerving, the questions the boy kept firing at him or the steady blue stare of the other two kids.
“I think I’m too big.” There was no way he was getting in there with them.
With no warning, the littlest one started to lurch toward him. This set off the others: they advanced in single file behind her. As they neared, he took a step backward and bumped into the piano bench with his calf.
“You know, I wonder where your mom is. Maybe you guys should go find her—ooof!” The littlest one, moving in that downright frightening half-walk, half-lurch, had collided into his legs with surprising force.
Dropping the book and flashlight onto the piano bench, he reached down to steady her—Christ, the last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt and start to cry—and that seemed to be some kind of signal for her to climb into his arms. Agile as a blond-haired monkey, she hung about his neck and somehow he just knew she wasn’t going to release him without a hell of a good reason.
Then she started talking, a rush of gibberish of which he couldn’t understand a syllable. Whatever it was she was saying, though, she seemed really happy about it, pumping her legs up and down against his gut in ecstatic punctuation.
“Can either of you translate? Does she need to go to the bathroom?”
The question prompted peals of laughter from the little boy, while his older sister continued to stare at him with her deep blue eyes. Meanwhile the babbling and leg-pumping continued unabated. He was getting seriously worried; he’d already gotten drenched with iced tea today. No way was he going to tolerate leaking tots. “Really,” he said with a touch of desperation. “What is she saying?”
“Olivia’s telling you that she’s going riding with her aunt Jade after Kate and Max have their lessons.”
Damn, but he was happy to see Jordan. The arrival of her mother had the blond monkey scrambling out of his arms with a finally intelligible cry of, “Mommy!”
Her other two children switched their focus, as well.
“Those are really pretty flowers, Mommy,” said the older girl—Kate, that was her name.
Jordan put down the flowers, which she’d arranged in a large blue and white Chinese vase. “Yes, they are. Mr. Gage gave them to me.”
“Is that Mr. Gage?” The boy pointed to him.
“No pointing, Max. And yes, that’s Mr. Gage. Now—”
“Owen,” he interjected. “You can call me Owen.” Being addressed as “Mr. Gage” by someone less than three feet tall made him feel about ninety years old.
Jordan paused fractionally, the only sign that she’d heard him. “You guys better run to the bathroom before Aunt Jade gets home or you’ll be late for your lesson.”
“Is Owen going to watch us wide?” piped up the boy again, and while Owen was remembering to translate “wide” into “ride,” the tot began babbling wildly again.
Even the older girl, the quiet, watchful one, spoke up. “I’m going to be trotting on the rail all by myself today.”
“And that’s a huge accomplishment, sweetie, but I’m not sure Mr. Gage—Owen,” she corrected at his pointed cough, “will be able to stay long enough to watch.”
So she wanted him gone already, and his five minutes’ exposure had definitely exceeded his tolerance limit to kids. But her answer had the perverse effect of making him actually consider sticking around.
“I’d be delighted to watch you—” He was going to say her name but damned if he hadn’t forgotten it. Jordan didn’t look any too pleased by the news, but the little girl gave him a shy smile. At least he could win over some females.
“You’d best get ready then, Kate. Max, your face needs a good wash. No way will Aunt Jade let you ride looking like that. And please take Olivia with you so she can clean her hands.”
Olivia, however, didn’t seem inclined to follow the program. Wrapping her arms about Jordan’s legs, she buried her face against her knees and began stomping her feet with surprising force.
Certain she was going to blow, he tensed. Maybe he should get out of here. Toddler tantrums were definitely outside his comfort zone. Taking a cautious step sideways, he caught the flash of what looked like a smile on Jordan’s face. But then she was bending over and scooping up her child and planting a quick kiss just beneath her ear. Setting her back down on the ground, she dropped to one knee. “Go on, Olivia, so you’ll be all ready for Aunt Jade. If you’re a very good girl, she might let you help groom Doc.”
The kid blurted out a long response. Owen felt as if he were watching a foreign movie with no subtitles, straining to catch an intelligible word.
But Jordan merely nodded and said, “Yes, I’m sure he’d love to meet Cookie Monster someday.”
“Come on, ’Livia.” The older girl walked up and took one of the toddler’s hands.
“Yeah, come on, Wiv,” Max said, grabbing hold of the other.
Orderly as soldiers, the three of them marched from the room.
He looked at Jordan with renewed admiration. She obviously had untold gifts, able to interpret sounds that had, at best, only a tenuous connection to language, able to quell impending riots with a simple kiss. Although now that he thought about it, he wasn’t so astonished by the latter. He was beginning to suspect that he might do a hell of a lot for one of her kisses.
The million-dollar question was, what exactly would it take for him to convince Jordan to kiss him back?
He realized how novel the question was, one that he’d never had to ask. The women he dated all knew the rules of the game and were expert players. He liked that, looked for it in a woman, so why was he even entertaining these thoughts about the highly inappropriate Jordan?
The problem was that he’d been working too hard lately. His fixation was his body’s way of telling him that he needed to get back to Alexandria this weekend.
He would ring Fiona Rorty, a lawyer he’d been dating for the past couple of months, and invite her out to dinner. Bright, sexy, and more committed to making partner in her corporate law firm than ensnaring him as a partner, Fiona was just to his taste. A night with her would be the perfect antidote to Jordan. Back to normal, he’d be able to look at Jordan without wanting to grab her and drag her like some caveman into her kids’ tent.
She was standing by the table where she’d placed the vase of flowers, adjusting the arrangement. She lingered at the task, fiddling with the stems, adjusting the arrangement, and then stepping back to study the effect.
“That was extremely impressive, the way you talked the little one down.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Pretty routine stuff, actually. I’m sure if you cast your memory back you’ll remember your mom doing much the same.”
His mother? Not likely. She had things to do: articles to write, important people to meet, parties to attend. In all probability the nannies his parents hired had possessed those skills.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Ia bahkan menyukai rincian kitschier dekorasi: lampu basis yang dibuat dari apa yang tampak seperti Piala — kuda trofi, dia menganggap — dan patung porselen dari anjing-anjing pemburu yang menunjuk pada tambang gaib. Semua ini dicegah kamar dari perasaan seperti museum, atau lebih buruk lagi, sebuah makam.Dan meskipun telah tinggal di merasa untuk itu, Radcliffes jelas mengambil rasa sakit untuk merawat mebel antik. Setiap bagian berkilau lembut, halus dan bebas debu. Potongan-potongan di ruang tamu kedua harus memerlukan perawatan khusus; mereka telah ditutup dengan seprai untuk perlindungan ekstra.Ia menyeberangi pusat Kamar, mengagumi ibukota ukiran kolom. Peluit rendah apresiasi melarikan diri kepadanya ketika ia melihat grand piano terselip di sudut ruang tamu kedua. Dia punya visi tiba-tiba perempuan putih dan laki-laki di cutaways, cognac snifters di tangan, seperti catatan piano mengambang melalui, sejelas teardrops kristal dari lampu. Oke, tempat ini adalah benar-benar sesuatu, tetapi itu adalah waktu untuk memotong fantasi hantu, katanya pada diri sendiri.Tawa teredam belakangnya punya rambut di belakang leher berdiri lurus.Ia berputar-putar dan tidak melihat satu — tidak Jordan, sangat terhibur oleh arsitek nya terpesona ekspresi untuk apa padanya adalah hanya keluarganya rumah. Jadi siapa sih telah membuat kebisingan?Tawa datang lagi, kali ini diikuti oleh sama keras "Shhhh!" dan matanya memusatkan furnitur tersampir lembar.They were in there. The kids. Damn. He’d have preferred a few moldy ghosts.He really didn’t do kids. Perhaps if he was quiet they’d leave him alone.No such luck. The sheet twitched like a live thing. Three little faces appeared in the vee where two sheets, draped over the backs of chairs, met.They were staring at him. Six round eyes unblinking. The two older ones had on jodhpurs, long-sleeved polo shirts, and socks. The littlest one, about two feet tall, wore elastic-waisted blue jeans and a pink shirt.“Uh, hi.”“Who are you?” The largest one, a girl, asked.“I’m Owen.”There was a silence as they digested that piece of information.One of them was a boy, with hair Jordan’s deep russet color. His eyes, however, were a greenish brown. Across his nose and cheeks there was a liberal smattering of freckles, which Owen knew many would find the height of adorableness. But he was too preoccupied by the weird, bright orange smear across the kid’s face to feel any softening of the heart. It looked like the boy had been drawing on his face with a marker. Then he opened his mouth and Owen saw the stuff crusted on his teeth.“Are you here to weed?” the boy demanded.Did he look like a gardener? “No.”“That’s my sister’s book.” His stubby index finger pointed accusingly. “Are you going to weed to us?”“Oh, right, read, not weed—no,” he said hastily. “I’m not here to read. I came to see Jord—uh, your mom.”"Apakah Anda seorang teman ibu itu?"Dia ragu-ragu. Itu salah satu yang sulit. Bagaimana untuk menjawab? "Saya kira begitu.""Apakah Anda ingin duduk di tenda kami?"Dia tidak tahu yang lebih mengerikan, pertanyaan anak laki-laki terus menembak dia atau menatap biru stabil dua anak-anak lain."Saya pikir saya terlalu besar." Ada tidak ada cara yang ia mendapatkan di sana dengan mereka.Tanpa peringatan, littlest satu mulai terkesiap ke arahnya. Ini berangkat yang lain: mereka maju dalam satu file belakangnya. Ketika mereka mendekati, dia mengambil langkah mundur dan bumped ke bangku piano dengan sapi nya."Kau tahu, aku bertanya-tanya mana ibumu. Mungkin kalian harus pergi mencarinya — ooof! " Littlest bergerak satu, yang benar-benar menakutkan berjalan setengah, setengah-kesukaran, telah bertabrakan ke kakinya dengan kekuatan yang mengejutkan.Menjatuhkan buku dan senter ke bangku piano, ia sampai ke mantap dia — Kristus, hal terakhir yang ia inginkan adalah untuk anak-anak untuk mendapatkan terluka dan mulai menangis- dan yang tampaknya menjadi semacam sinyal baginya untuk naik ke dalam tangannya. Agile sebagai blond-haired monyet, dia digantung lehernya dan entah bagaimana dia hanya tahu dia tidak akan melepaskan dia tanpa neraka dari alasan yang baik.Kemudian dia mulai berbicara, terburu-buru omong kosong yang dia tidak dapat mengerti suku kata. Apa pun yang dia mengatakan, meskipun, dia tampak benar-benar senang tentang itu, memompa kakinya naik terhadap Nya usus di tanda baca gembira."Dapat Anda menerjemahkan? Apakah dia harus pergi ke kamar mandi?"Pertanyaan diminta berkali-kali tawa anak kecil, sementara adiknya lebih tua terus menatapnya dengan matanya biru. Sementara itu mengoceh dan memompa kaki terus berlanjut. Dia mulai serius khawatir; Dia sudah mendapat basah kuyup dengan es teh hari ini. Ada cara dia akan mentolerir tots bocor. "Sungguh," katanya dengan sentuhan putus asa. "Apa yang dia katakan?""Olivia yang memberitahu Anda bahwa dia memiliki pergi berkuda dengan bibinya Jade setelah Kate dan Max memiliki pelajaran mereka."Sialan, tetapi dia sangat senang melihat Jordan. Kedatangan Sang ibu telah monyet pirang berebut dari tangannya dengan seruan akhirnya dimengerti, "Ibu!"Nya dua anak lainnya beralih fokus mereka, juga."Orang-orang yang benar-benar cantik bunga, Mommy," kata gadis remaja-Kate, yang namanya.Jordan meletakkan bunga, yang dia telah diatur dalam biru dan putih Cina vas besar. "Ya, mereka adalah. Mr Gage memberikannya kepada saya. ""Apakah itu Mr Gage?" Anak laki-laki menunjuk kepadanya."Tidak menunjuk, Max. Dan ya, itu adalah Mr Gage. Sekarang — ""Owen," ia sela. "Anda dapat menghubungi saya Owen." Yang disebut sebagai "Mr Gage" oleh seseorang yang kurang dari tiga kaki tinggi membuatnya merasa tentang sembilan puluh tahun.Jordan berhenti fraksional, satu-satunya tanda bahwa ia telah mendengar dia. "Kalian lebih baik lari ke kamar mandi sebelum bibi Jade mendapat rumah atau Anda akan terlambat untuk pelajaran Anda."“Is Owen going to watch us wide?” piped up the boy again, and while Owen was remembering to translate “wide” into “ride,” the tot began babbling wildly again.Even the older girl, the quiet, watchful one, spoke up. “I’m going to be trotting on the rail all by myself today.”“And that’s a huge accomplishment, sweetie, but I’m not sure Mr. Gage—Owen,” she corrected at his pointed cough, “will be able to stay long enough to watch.”So she wanted him gone already, and his five minutes’ exposure had definitely exceeded his tolerance limit to kids. But her answer had the perverse effect of making him actually consider sticking around.“I’d be delighted to watch you—” He was going to say her name but damned if he hadn’t forgotten it. Jordan didn’t look any too pleased by the news, but the little girl gave him a shy smile. At least he could win over some females.“You’d best get ready then, Kate. Max, your face needs a good wash. No way will Aunt Jade let you ride looking like that. And please take Olivia with you so she can clean her hands.”Olivia, however, didn’t seem inclined to follow the program. Wrapping her arms about Jordan’s legs, she buried her face against her knees and began stomping her feet with surprising force.Certain she was going to blow, he tensed. Maybe he should get out of here. Toddler tantrums were definitely outside his comfort zone. Taking a cautious step sideways, he caught the flash of what looked like a smile on Jordan’s face. But then she was bending over and scooping up her child and planting a quick kiss just beneath her ear. Setting her back down on the ground, she dropped to one knee. “Go on, Olivia, so you’ll be all ready for Aunt Jade. If you’re a very good girl, she might let you help groom Doc.”The kid blurted out a long response. Owen felt as if he were watching a foreign movie with no subtitles, straining to catch an intelligible word.
But Jordan merely nodded and said, “Yes, I’m sure he’d love to meet Cookie Monster someday.”
“Come on, ’Livia.” The older girl walked up and took one of the toddler’s hands.
“Yeah, come on, Wiv,” Max said, grabbing hold of the other.
Orderly as soldiers, the three of them marched from the room.
He looked at Jordan with renewed admiration. She obviously had untold gifts, able to interpret sounds that had, at best, only a tenuous connection to language, able to quell impending riots with a simple kiss. Although now that he thought about it, he wasn’t so astonished by the latter. He was beginning to suspect that he might do a hell of a lot for one of her kisses.
The million-dollar question was, what exactly would it take for him to convince Jordan to kiss him back?
He realized how novel the question was, one that he’d never had to ask. The women he dated all knew the rules of the game and were expert players. He liked that, looked for it in a woman, so why was he even entertaining these thoughts about the highly inappropriate Jordan?
The problem was that he’d been working too hard lately. His fixation was his body’s way of telling him that he needed to get back to Alexandria this weekend.
He would ring Fiona Rorty, a lawyer he’d been dating for the past couple of months, and invite her out to dinner. Bright, sexy, and more committed to making partner in her corporate law firm than ensnaring him as a partner, Fiona was just to his taste. A night with her would be the perfect antidote to Jordan. Back to normal, he’d be able to look at Jordan without wanting to grab her and drag her like some caveman into her kids’ tent.
She was standing by the table where she’d placed the vase of flowers, adjusting the arrangement. She lingered at the task, fiddling with the stems, adjusting the arrangement, and then stepping back to study the effect.
“That was extremely impressive, the way you talked the little one down.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Pretty routine stuff, actually. I’m sure if you cast your memory back you’ll remember your mom doing much the same.”
His mother? Not likely. She had things to do: articles to write, important people to meet, parties to attend. In all probability the nannies his parents hired had possessed those skills.