Nana comes back from the office while I'm thinking about it and sits down next to Poppy, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders automatically. The two of them are drawn together like magnets, each movement seeming natural, as though they don’t even take a moment to think before reaching out for the other. "All done." She sighs. "You didn't need to worry, though, because apparently, Jacinta gave him a lecture for the same reasons. I guess we were being a little unreasonable. We would have been giving all those bloodsucking society people cannon fodder to gossip about." She spies my medicine on the table. "Are you in pain?"
I shrug my shoulders. "A little, but these should take care of it."
"I'm trying to convince her to use one of those wonderful quilts off one of the beds," Poppy stage whispers to her, and she laughs, rolling her eyes at him.
"You do love those things, don't you? Of course, you can use one; I'll get Veronica to fetch you one." She goes to press the button, but Poppy places his hand over hers.
"She should be back any minute now with our coffee; you can ask then."
Just as he says that she does return, carrying a tray with a couple of cups and a plate of delicious-looking miniature cakes and tarts. Placing them on the table, she hands me a napkin. “For your mess,” she says, smiling as I just take it politely while Poppy snorts. Nana raises her eyebrows, having missed our earlier interaction but clearly finding Veronica’s words to be a bit disrespectful.
"Veronica, can you grab Harlow a quilt off of one of the beds, and then you can just relax until lunchtime?" She smiles her thanks and disappears. She's back not two minutes later, throwing the quilt at me. Before I can even get comfortable, she starts to sit down in one of the lounges opposite me, but Nana raises her eyebrow at her again.
"I think in crew quarters would be more appropriate, don't you, dear?" Nana's voice is kind, but her eyes are telling a different story. Veronica blushes and quickly hurries away.
"Why would she think she could sit here?" Nana asks Poppy, confused, and Poppy raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"I’m not sure, dear; maybe she's been allowed to in the past?" Nana’s forehead deepens in a frown, and she growls a little. I jump, hearing the sound come out of her mouth, and Poppy pats me on the leg. "Nana gets riled up sometimes, just ignore her, but between you and me I wouldn't want to be one of her grandsons when she gets a hold of them."
Oh, okay, it finally occurs to me why she might be sitting in the lounge, and I shudder. I guess that's one way to guarantee your job.
I pop one of my tablets out and take it before I have my coffee and cake. That way, it's almost working by the time I finish. We sit in comfortable silence while we have morning tea. Poppy has his newspaper again, and Nana talks to me about their estate and where they live. Nana and Poppy live in the same house as my father and his children, but they have their own wing. Sometimes they don't see each other for days.
"It's nice. We get our own space but can also see whoever is around whenever we want. Bradley has offered many times to build us our own house, and of course, we could too if we wanted to, but this arrangement suits us all.”
"What about when your grandchildren start to get married and have families of their own? I guess they'll get their own place then," I say to her, and she smiles, but her eyes sparkle with deviousness.
"Not if I get my way," she says back to me, and something tells me she has a plan in the works, but I don't pay much attention to it. In fact, I’m kind of relieved. If she's busy matchmaking her grandchildren, then she'll stay out of my love life, non-existent as it is.
Finally, the pills start to work, and I curl up on the couch, pulling my blanket up around me.
"Sleep well, dear," Nana says.
"Thanks, Nana. I love you," I mumble back, the pills affecting my inhibitions as well as my energy, and as I close my eyes, I see a tear of joy trickle down her face.
Chapter Eleven
Harlow
I sleep for a few hours and wake when Veronica serves a late lunch of steak salad with blue cheese dressing, a side of fresh fruit, a chocolate pecan brownie, and a glass of a California Cabernet red wine. When the plane lands, it's two-thirty in the afternoon. Again, the plane stops in the middle of the tarmac, and there are a considerable amount of steps to climb down.
Leaving the plane, James and Chris are there to see us off. Veronica, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen, but I'm not worried about that; her passive aggressiveness has worn very thin. Nana and Poppy say thank you and goodbye and head down, while I stop to talk to both pilots.
"It was nice meeting you, Harlow." James holds out his hand, a smile on his face. "I look forward to flying you again." Returning a grin at his genuineness, I shake it.
"Thank you so much for the talk. I look forward to seeing you next time." Turning to Chris, I'm about to ask for my crutches, but I notice he has them in his hand already. Instead of passing them to me, he hands them to James and again sweeps me off my feet.
"I love to help a damsel in distress," he tells me, winking cheekily, and he carries me down the stairs. James is grinning broadly, following behind.
"You know you don’t have to do this," I assure him.
Without missing a beat, he replies, "Honey, I think you’ve got enough on your plate at the moment; let someone else take care of the small things if we can." His words strike a chord, so I just hold on tight until we get to the bottom, and he places me down.
"I look forward to getting to know you next time, and thank you," I say, kissing him on the cheek as James hands my crutches to a waiting driver who places them in the back of the limo for me. Waving goodbye, I climb in next to my grandparents, and the driver closes the door behind me.
Settling myself, Poppy hands me my backpack, and I get comfortable. They told me earlier that there’s a forty-five-minute drive to the estate. Apparently, Poppy's father bought the thousand-acre land for a steal, subdivided it, then sold most of it off. That was how they’d made their money to start with. But he was smart, and when he divided it, he made it so there was only one other estate close by, and he gave one to each of his children, Poppy and his sister. But the sister had a falling out with her father and sold the land to an eccentric Transylvanian millionaire as a way to get back at him. I was fascinated, and Nana promised to tell me more about that story, but not when Poppy was around. It still bothers him that his father disowned his sister. Apparently, she now lives in Nevada and runs a successful business out there, but they didn't elaborate on what kind of business. I get the feeling it may be the reason her father disowned her, but Poppy still speaks to her once a week, and I’m told I’ll meet her at Christmas if I decide to stick around.
The estates face each other, and they’re about 100 acres each, but there are no other houses in the vicinity. The drive passes quickly, and all I've done is stare out the window and bite my lip to pieces with worry. Nana and Poppy have left me alone, somehow knowing that I needed the quiet. The car slows down as it enters through a big fancy gate and drives slowly down the road. On the left-hand side, the gardens, bushes, and trees are overgrown, but from a gap in a clearing, I can see a gothic mansion peeking through. It’s thick with ivy and looks like some of the windows are smashed. With a gasp, I lower the window to see if I can get a better look.
"That’s the mansion the Transylvanian millionaire built," Nana tells me. "Used to say he was a distant relative of Vlad the Impaler." Poppy harrumphs at these words.
Turning, I look at her. "Dracula?" I ask excitedly.
She shrugs, a twinkle in her eye, lightly elbowing Poppy until he drops the grumpy look from his face. "Yes, he was harmless and fun, but poor Ivan died with no heirs, and it has sat empty ever since. Sad, really. It used to be such a grand place, and he threw wonderful summer balls.” She turns to Poppy with a nostalgic smile on her face. “Remember, Howard, we would dance all night until the sun came up?"
"Yes, dear, I do remember. I also remember what else a lot of the people would d
o." Nana’s cheeks pinken with a blush as Poppy continues. "Crazy he might have been, he also made his money through drugs, and there were always party favors at his parties. Quite often, they would devolve into orgies," he tells me, and I look at Nana in shock.
"Don't look at me like that; we were all young once, dear, and liked to let our hair down." I’ve learned so many things about my grandparents in the last few hours that blow my mind. I can’t see how they could be friends with the laced up too tight Boston seniors.
"Anyway, he was a fan of exotic animals and had a miniature zoo in there." Poppy looks at me, knowing that will have me even more interested. Damn it, he must have gotten that extra information from Chuck. "He had lions and tigers and bears, and all sorts of things. When he died, all the animals went to zoos around the country, but all the facilities are still there."
"And it's abandoned? No one lives there?" I cross my fingers in hope. I would love to explore it just like those guys do in the videos I watch.
"I believe there’s a caretaker, but I don't think he's been there in a while; everything seems to be quite badly overgrown," Nana says, peering over my shoulder, trying to get a better look.
The limo makes a turn right and starts up a driveway, and the mansion disappears behind some trees. I turn around and sit, but I can't wait to get some time to go exploring. I know what I’m doing first. Settling myself again, I look out the other window at this new leg of our journey. This drive is a stark contrast to the other side. Tall poplar trees line the driveway with beautifully manicured lawn stretching as far as the imposing old mansion that we’re now approaching. Garden beds filled with in-bloom roses line the house as well as one garden bed in the middle of the driveway. There looks to be a fountain in the very middle, but it's not on at the moment. This makes a convenient turning circle for cars.
The limo glides to a stop in front of the stone steps leading up to the double entrance door. The mansion is straight across at the front, but I can see two large wings stretching out behind it on either side, like a large U without the rounded edges. Built from stone, it has limestone-colored window frames and a balcony over the front door with two columns framing the entrance. The roof also has window frames, so it looks to be three stories high.
Nana points to the right-hand side of the house. "That wing is mine and Howard’s. Now that the kids are older, Bradley has also moved to that wing. Goodness knows it's still too big for the three of us, but we make do." She gestures to the straight-ahead area. “That's the main living quarters; all the social rooms are in that section, and over there..." She gestures to the left wing with a sweep of her hand. “Is where the children’s bedrooms and areas are. I think Bradley had a room made up for you on each side, so you need to decide where you're going to stay."
That thought terrifies me, and it’s also a bit of a no brainer. "Your side, please," I answer quickly. I know that’s rather gutless of me, but at least if we don't all get along, that will allow us our own space. I don't want to force these things. I used to hate all the new boyfriends my mother used to force on me, so I have firsthand experience having someone thrust into your space while you’re expected to deal with it. Mostly they were customers, but she would tell me they were going to be my new daddy. I shudder at the reminder, but then something occurs to me.
"Brad never married?" I ask her, and she shakes her head, looking sad. "No, he's had a few lady friends now and then, but at the start, he was very busy with all the businesses, and when the children came along, he liked to spend all his free time with them. The women he dated didn't like to compete with that, so they would give him an ultimatum, expecting him to get more nannies."
Poppy butts in, laughing. "Boy were they shocked when he would give them the heave-ho instead." He chortles to himself, but that makes my opinion of my father creep up even more.
"He’s still young. Why not now that they're older?" I ask.
Nana shrugs. "He hasn't met the right person yet."
The driver opens the door and is waiting with my crutches in his hand much sooner than I’m ready to get out of the car. Handing Poppy my backpack, I edge my way out. Taking them, I thank him before putting them under my arms and moving out the way. The cobblestone driveway is uneven underneath them, so I place the crutches carefully so as not to fall over and do more damage. I think I can probably do away with them soon, but Nana insisted on bringing them. It seems her and Poppy are quite unwilling to take any chances with my health.
While I wait for Nana and Poppy to hop out of the car, the front door of the mansion slams open with a bang, making me jump in shock. All three of us turn to look, and standing there on the porch is an older, cleaner-cut version of the man in the photo with my mom. He's aged well, still handsome and healthy with only some gray streaks in his blond hair.
He’s fit and tanned, but it's his eyes, which are an exact match to mine, that draw the most attention. They look half-terrified, half-excited, and I know exactly how he feels. When they meet mine, his mouth drops open in shock, and I hear, "Fuck."
That is so unexpected, I can't help myself, and I burst out laughing. Seeming as unsure about our next steps as I am, he runs his hands through his hair, looking a little embarrassed as he comes down the steps holding out his hand for me to shake. I’m so relieved he doesn't want to go for the hug that I shove one crutch under my arm, so it doesn't move, and I take it with enthusiasm.
"I'm sorry,” he apologizes. "It’s just you look so much like your mom. I was a bit surprised. I'm Brad. It’s so good to meet you, Harlow." His voice is kind, and he sounds sincere. I’m still unsure how everything will work out between us, but if he’s good friends with the Bostons, at least I can likely trust that he’s as good a man as they say.
"Thanks. Melinda has always told me how much I look like Mom when she was younger." My mention of Melinda has a frown crossing his face as we let go of our hands.
"Yes, Melinda and Chuck. I'm so glad they were able to give you some sort of stability. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, and I'm sorry for your loss, but your mom robbed us both, and I will never forgive her for that." His words are angry by the end, and I don't blame him. I also don’t want our first meeting to be tainted by rehashing my mom’s failures as a parent and partner, so I do the only thing I can.
"Brad, I’ve spent many years being angry with my mom, and this is just the icing on the cake. What do you say we don’t even mention her again?"
His eyes widen in surprise at my response, and I smile to show him there’s really no hard feelings here. At least none directed at him. "It's taken me a lot of therapy to get to where I am, don’t worry," I reassure him. "It’s a waste of time hating someone and wishing we could change things; let’s just look to the future." He looks impressed at my mature take on things, and I’d like to think that means I’m already starting off with a pretty good impression.
"Alright then, Harlow, I'll let you set the example. But I would like to hear about everything when you get comfortable enough with me to tell me." After greeting his parents, he gestures to the front door. "Shall we head inside?" He starts up the steps but stops and turns around, looking at my crutches and my knee.
“Mom told me on the phone you’d hurt yourself. Do you need a hand?” I appreciate the gesture and that he’s already trying to be attentive, but I shake my head and maneuver myself up the stairs slowly.
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” I reassure him. He looks dubious, but he doesn't push it, and I’m grateful. Grateful that he’s not going to force a relationship and that he’s going to let it develop organically no matter which way it may go.
He leads us inside, and we follow after him, Nana and Poppy staying quiet for the moment, letting us have our first meeting.
"My children are all here. Did Mom and Dad tell you about them?" Brad asks me, and I nod.
"Yes, but with so much going on, I'm afraid I can't remember all their names," I admit, and he shakes his head.
"Don't you worry ab
out that. I'll introduce them all.” He stops abruptly in the hallway and turns back to face me. "This has been a shock to all of us, and, well, they haven't said anything, but I think the fact that you're my biological child has ruffled their feathers slightly. Now, I don't see them as anything different than you; they're my kids, and I love them all equally as I will love you, but society gave them a hard time growing up, and I’m afraid it has left some scars. Same as how I’m sure you’ve some scars of your own." His eyes show that he has some knowledge of my upbringing, so I nod my head, glad that, for the moment at least, I don’t have to explain my past.
"I understand, but let me tell you this, I have no intention of trying to replace them in your life. That said, I won't tolerate outright abuse either."
He looks shocked at my words, eyes flicking between me, Nana, and Poppy as if trying to figure out how my mind made that jump. "Abuse? God, no." The pity in his face as he realizes what I mean is almost enough to make me turn around, but Nana’s hand on my back makes me steel my nerves.
"I just meant it might take a little while for them to warm up to you.” He starts to move through the house again, and I'm so nervous I don't take notice of any of my surroundings. This place is huge. I’m going to need a map before I try to get anywhere on my own. My crutches thudding on the wooden floors echo through the large entrance, which has a lovely old-fashioned chandelier hanging in the center. On either side of the entrance are two sweeping staircases leading up to the next level, but we’re headed to a door underneath them.
"Now, I know this might be a little overwhelming, so I think a signal that we all know, if it becomes too much, might be the best idea," he suggests, and Nana and Poppy snort in laughter. I look at them, wanting to know what’s so funny.
Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1) Page 11
