by Jen Crane
“I should have mentioned we would meet in a casual capacity. I’m sorry. I’m not used to this sort of thing.”
“Oh, think nothing of it,” I told him. “I wouldn’t have chosen anything else for my first visit to the prime minister’s residence.”
He snorted without grace. “Please. I have to live here. I might as well be comfortable, and so should you. At least take your shoes off.”
I declined with grace and accepted the cup of coffee he offered. Though his natural demeanor seemed to be genial and kind, the meeting was still awkward. We didn’t know one another, had been brought together by loss, and the burden of the future sat heavy on our shoulders.
“You like baseball?” he asked.
“Baseba—yes,” I stammered. “I do.”
He turned on the big television with a remote from a nearby table before plopping down onto the sofa.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Gaspare Shaw was nothing like my expectations—hadn’t been since the moment I met him. With few options left, I sat my coffee on a side table, took off my heels, and nestled into the corner of the sofa opposite him. He shot me an encouraging nod, and then became absorbed in the game.
“Pirates play the Cubs today,” he said without looking at me. “Polanco is the best right fielder since Roberto Clemente. Don’t you think?”
“Ah, sure.” I shook my head in wonder. “You love baseball? American baseball?”
“Who doesn’t?” He looked at me as if I had two heads. I let out a short laugh and we began a comfortable conversation about baseball. He knew a lot more than I did, particularly about historical teams and players, but that was because he’d been around for it.
“I was there for Clemente’s walk-off inside-the-park grand slam in ’56. He’s still the only player to ever get one.”
“You’ve been to my world, then?”
“Oh, many times. Thayer is my true love and my home but, well, we don’t have baseball,” he said as his sly grin crowded the corners of his eyes into a crinkle.
His features took on a more serious, reflective look. “Your father would have loved baseball, too.”
“You think so?” My heart swelled as I imagined the man I never knew, beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other, stuffed into a stadium seat behind the plate. I was thankful for the new images; I’d been starving for details and memories just like this since I was old enough to remember.
“Do you have any pictures of him?” I dared ask. “I don’t know what he looked like.”
Gaspare made the slightest pause. “Ah, sure.” He led me to the wall behind a stately desk. “Here’s one of both of us at your age when we attended Radix.” The two men stood side by side, each with an arm thrown around the other and toothy grins on their handsome faces.
“But,” I stuttered. “He looks just like you.” I shook my head. “The sandy hair, the olive skin, those eyes. Your nose. Everything. You two look just alike.”
“You didn’t know we were twins.”
“No. I…I didn’t.”
“Yes,” he said. “But he—your father—he was the best of us.” Gaspare turned from the photo and lumbered back to the sofa, his body weary with the pain of loss. I followed him and took my seat.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I lay my hand on top of his and squeezed. “For your loss. I’m sorry.”
He cocked his head. “You’re comforting me? It should be the other way around.” He exhaled a heavy breath. “You’re really something, Stella Stonewall.” He squeezed my shoulder and pulled me into him in an awkward side hug. “Will you keep that name? Stonewall?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Well, Stonewall is obviously a name your mother made up. Her name was Drakontos and your father’s—mine—is Shaw. Will you take one of your parents’ names or keep Stonewall?”
The thought had never entered my mind. I blew air from my inflated cheeks as I tried to form an answer. I couldn't come up with one, and shrugged.
He must have noticed my discomfort; he deftly changed the subject. “So, Rowan says you’ve made quite an impression at Radix…that you’re an amazingly fast learner. ‘Gifted’ I think he said.”
I made a noncommittal noise. “How do you know Gresham, anyway?”
Gaspare smiled and his face took on that sentimental, far-away look again. “We met at Radix. Rowan grew up in a tiny village on the east coast. He was a cocky bastard, changing from one form to another for audiences once he’d learned how. Gabrio and I thought to teach him a lesson. One afternoon he stood on the lawn outside Sabre Hall putting on a show. Oh, the girls loved it. Loved him; they always have. He thought he was so special.”
Gaspare laughed, his gaze lost in the distance as he recollected his youth. “Gabrio and I knew just what to do. We were so close, so in sync, it only took one look. When Rowan shot to the sky as a bird, we took the same form and chased him. He couldn’t escape two of us and changed into a big raptor. We did, too. I remember so clearly the look in his eyes the moment he realized what he was up against. He dove for the ground and rolled into a growling bear. Gabrio and I landed on each side of him, exploded into tigers, and leapt at him.”
Gaspare shook his head and lifted one side of his mouth. “It was the first time I’d ever seen Rowan laugh. He’s always been so serious. When he knew he was beat he stood on two feet and laughed with such joy. Afterward, he put an arm around us both and said, ‘How about I buy you boys lunch?’ We were inseparable for years after.”
“Inseparable,” I interrupted. “You, my father—and Gresham?”
“Yes. Well, until our father died. He—your grandfather—had always thought Gabrio would make a better leader than I. As our father lay dying he pressured Gabrio to vie for the position. Begged him to promise he’d do it. But Gabrio’d never had any interest in leading Thayer, had made it clear for years. And that’s when he disappeared. I lost my father and my brother. It was a very hard time for me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
Gaspare looked up with a start. “Oh, look at me! Having a pity party over wounds long healed.” The depth of sadness in his eyes held rivaled my own. “You and I, we’re no strangers to loss, are we?”
“No, unfortunately not. But I’m so glad to have found you. For a lot of reasons.”
“We’re family now,” he said.
I reached to squeeze his hand, but he pulled me toward him in a tight hug. It was odd at first, but I soon closed my eyes and relaxed into the embrace. I was completely blissed out from finding him, liking him, and from his open acceptance of me. I relished the tender moment for as long as I could.
But my visit had a purpose besides getting to know Gaspare Shaw and learning about my father. I had other, more immediate and self-preserving needs.
“It feels weird to know Gresham and my father were such close friends,” I said once I’d righted myself on the sofa.
“Weird? Why?” The curious turn of his head was almost parrot-like.
“Well, I know age is a more pliable thing here in Thayer than where I grew up, since you all live longer, but,” I bit my lip and held my eyes wide, “dating someone who was childhood friends with my father has a certain ‘ick’ factor, don’t you think?”
Gaspare went completely still. I don’t think he breathed for several long moments. His face betrayed nothing as he stared straight ahead at the baseball game. But I could sense rage forming around me. Rage…and power.
Oh, he was pissed all right. I had hoped he’d feel protective of me, and our short time together had provided for a bond—for me, too—stronger than I’d dared anticipate. If anyone could get Gresham off my ass without endangering me further, it was his longtime friend and boss—the leader of the land and people he was sworn to protect.
“Are you interested in dating Gresham,” Gaspare asked without inflection. He was being so careful.
“No, not really,” I said with a diffidence I didn’t feel. “But he’s pursued me pretty ha
rd, and you’re right—he does have a way with the ladies.”
The flare of a nostril was the only indication of his internal boil. “I’ll take care of it,” he said stiffly.
I preened, pleased with the success of both my plan and my performance.
* * *
Dinner was served while we finished the baseball game in the private study. Despite the presidential surroundings and our fledgling relationship, the evening was so casual, so…normal.
Gaspare was more than I’d ever hoped to find when I learned about my father, whom we talked about for nearly two hours.
I covered my mouth as I yawned, my legs curled under me on the sofa. Someone had started a fire and I was warm and happy. And loved. I felt loved.
“It’s late. You have school tomorrow,” Gaspare said and then chuckled. “Don’t worry. I know you’re not a child. And it looks like you’ve done a hell-of-a job on your own.”
“Thanks,” I said and stood.
“We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know one another,” he said. “But a lot to catch up on. I’ll send your Pia my information. Let’s get together this week?”
I left the mansion lighter than I’d felt in a very long time.
* * *
When I arrived back at Sabre there was a small, delicately wrapped present for me in my mail slot.
“Who left this?” I asked the desk clerk.
“Courier brought it.”
I took the gift to my room and pulled open the gauzy ribbon. Beneath the crisp white wrapping paper was a box of four decadent chocolate truffles. No note.
Ohhhh, Gresham, I thought. Bad timing. You don’t know what’s hit you yet.
But it would have been wasteful not to enjoy the smooth, rich chocolate infused with orange and ginger, and I have always been very conservation-conscious.
Chapter 20
What Timbra needed was a night or two away from The Root. Away from the ever-present risk of running into Boone and any resulting heartache and awkwardness. Break-ups were difficult—at least this one was.
I’d found a brochure for an eclectic bed and breakfast up north when I stopped for my now-annihilated box of truffles. The cabin boasted a pool and small spa, and specialized in rejuvenation. It seemed fated.
In Thayer, instead of taxis, an escort system is used. Since tracing is painless, quick, and free, Timbra and I could literally go anywhere on the extensive landmass in a matter of seconds. The only problem, of course, was getting somewhere we’d never been. That’s where escorts come in.
I spoke to a woman by phone who agreed to meet Timbra and I at the exterior gates of Radix. She would lead us to the cabin for our relaxing weekend. Simple.
“That must be her,” Timbra said, her eyes bright with excitement. She was thrumming with happiness to get out of town, to have a distraction. The swelling around her eyes from crying since her break-up with Boone on Wednesday had all but disappeared.
It was a relief to find something to help Timbra besides commiserate…and hand her tissues. The prospect of our weekend had perked her up quite a bit.
I was excited for selfish reasons, too. Having been fairly confined to The Root, I hadn’t seen much of Thayer. Each new adventure felt like opening another bedroom door of my new home.
“Loryn?” I called to the woman just beyond the gate. She turned, and when our eyes met her wide mouth opened to expose a blinding number of perfect white teeth.
“Stella, hello,” she said. “You two are going to have a great weekend. Any questions before we set off?”
We had none, and threw overnight bags over our shoulders before forming a circle to hold hands with Loryn. One brief, cold shot of darkness later we stood before the most impressive log cabin I’d ever seen. But calling it a “cabin” made little sense. A mansion made from logs better described it.
“Let me take those bags, ladies,” Loryn said. We were both so awe-struck that she slipped them from our shoulders without argument.
Double front doors were flanked first by large plate-glass windows and then farther out by…trees. Two enormous trees with gnarled roots as tall as I was formed the pillared base of the front porch. The trunks were sanded and polished until they shined, and they extended all the way up to support the roof of a third story.
Nearly the entire facade of the house was made of glass. I spun around to see what view these windows had been installed to reveal, and my breath left on a dreamy, pleased sigh.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful, Loryn,” Timbra gushed. “I can’t believe we get to stay here.”
Me either, I thought, but was still too enthralled to speak.
Only a small copse of pointed evergreens let on that the snow-capped mountains in front of us did not, in fact, extend up and down. The lake’s waters were so still and clear that the reflection of the blue sky and breathtaking mountain range was nearly impossible to distinguish from the original.
I shook my head in wonder and whispered, “Just gorgeous.”
“You’re welcome to explore the lake, the base of the mountain, and the forest surrounding the property. Or, you can relax poolside all day between massages and facials—your call, ladies,” she said and flashed another big smile. Her dark curls bounced merrily as she led us into the “cabin.”
“Is this your home,” I asked her. “Or are the B&B and spa business ventures?” Everything was so lovingly done, so homey, that it didn’t feel like a business.
“This is our family home, actually. After my siblings and I all left my father considered selling. He was lonely, and it’s far too much house for one person. My husband and I were in the hospitality industry and made the choice to come home and keep the place in the family. We couldn’t bear the thought of losing it. We’ve only been open a month, but have most of the kinks worked out.”
“This place is amazing,” I said.
“Thank you. I hope you feel as at home as we do while you’re here.” Loryn led us up a spiral staircase built of carved and polished wood. It blended into the rest of the house, which was serene, tasteful. “Your room, ladies.” She opened the door to reveal a bedroom with two double beds and an adorable sitting room. The French doors to the balcony stood open and a crisp breeze brought with it the scent of juniper.
“I have died and gone to heaven,” I said, and threw myself onto a cushioned chair. The mountain air filled my lungs, and replaced most of my worries with cleansing thoughts of the endless tiny joys of nature. It was as if the evergreens had invaded my senses and were using their redolent foliage to scrub away the fear, the uncertainty, the betrayal, and loss. My eyes remained closed as I welcomed the relaxing atmosphere deep into my pores.
Loryn was speaking. “If you need anything I’ll be just downstairs. Breakfast is at nine. Your massages are scheduled for ten-thirty. Make yourself at home with the pool in the back, or any of our amenities.”
“Thank you, Loryn,” Timbra said. “I can’t tell you how much I need this weekend.”
Loryn smiled warmly, her dark eyes glistening with kindness in the overhead light. “Oh. I nearly forgot. We do have other guests, along with my little brother and his friend, for the weekend. This place is big enough to house a small army, though, so you should still feel like you have plenty of privacy.”
We showed her out and thanked her again.
I hung my clothes in the closet and turned to Timbra with a wicked grin. “Pool?”
“Pool,” she nodded.
* * *
“These people either are wolves or are freakishly obsessed with them,” Timbra said as we made our way through the open expanse of the main house.
“What makes you say that?”
“Did you see those doors when we first arrived? Wolves carved into them. Snarling wolves. Not exactly a hospitable relief for someone of cervid decent, eh?”
“Ohhh. I didn’t even notice. Yikes. You okay to stay?”
“Sure, sure,” she assured me. “Just a lot of wolf-y stuff around for a
B&B.”
We were beyond pleased to find an outdoor kitchen and bar area with a chalk sign indicating we should help ourselves and keep track of any beverages consumed.
“Would you look at that,” I said. “The honor system. How quaint.”
“You’re far too jaded for someone our age.”
“I don’t think I’m jaded,” I said as my bottom lip found its way atop the other. “Sarcastic, maybe.”
She grunted, but said nothing further.
“I’m going for a beer. Want anything?” I asked.
“My gods, yes. Not much beats a cold beer poolside on a hot day, does it?”
We sat in contented silence enjoying the warming embrace of the sun, the cool relief of our drinks, and the magical worlds of our books.
I was almost asleep on my chaise when I felt Timbra’s concentrated gaze. “So, your mom’s a fabled murdering dragon who tortured and killed helpless Thayerian people. And you, my friend, turn scaly, too.”
Hell. I had hoped that her troubles with her dad and Boone would cause her to forget about me for a while. My particular problems certainly hadn’t been foremost on her mind the last few days. But it was imminent the dreaded conversation be had at some point. And the time had arrived.
I swallowed, but found no relief for my dry mouth. “Yes,” was all I could say.
“Are you worried you’ll lose yourself in a vicious rampage? Is there a risk of that? Tell me honestly. I’ll still love you, and I’ll find a way to get you help if you need it.”
“I know you would,” I croaked before clearing my throat. “And I can’t tell you how much that means to me. You’re my bosom good friend, Timbra Redfern. I promise to never set you aflame with my dragon fire.”
“This is serious, Stella,” she admonished.
“I know it’s serious. Trust me. I’ve been a knot of nerves and disgust and shame since I learned who and what I am. It’s why my mother really left me, in case you hadn’t pieced that together. She couldn’t face telling me. It’s why she left Thayer so many years ago, why she raised me alone, why she didn’t tell me about my father.”
