I brought my hand to my chest, too choked with emotions to trust my own voice.
“Come here, brilliant girl,” Neil said, wrapping his arms around his daughter.
Had that really just happened? I wanted to hug Emma, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate it. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Emma. Really.”
“Well, let’s not get too mushy,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder. “I had them put lunch in the conservatory.”
“Excellent.” Neil put a hand on my back as we followed her.
“Right. In the conservatory.” I added under my breath, “Because people have those.”
“You’ll find that about a fifth of the murders in this house take place in the conservatory, often with a lead pipe,” Emma quipped.
I lost track of the number of rooms we moved through; parlors opened onto sitting rooms, onto salons, and they all looked like they served the exact same purpose, but in different colors. I felt like if I touched anything, an alarm would go off. Eventually, we made it to the rear of the house, where two ornate and gilded doors opened onto the conservatory.
Neil might as well have just casually revealed he owned a dragon, and I would have been less awed. The conservatory had a gracefully domed glass roof with gleaming brass in an art nouveau style. The tiles beneath our feet were tiny black and white octagons carefully arranged in their neat lines, more white than the black that wound its way in double rows to outline the floor. Above us, birds painted on the glass in faded gray, pink, blue, and green soared frozen against the sky. Though snow covered the ground outside, in here a small white marble fountain burbled cheerfully and all sorts of exotic plants bloomed and perfumed the humid air. There were palms and birds of paradise, lemon trees and orange trees, and spiky fronds jutted from elevated beds.
“Oh my god, this is beautiful.” I gratefully breathed in the moisture, a welcome change from the dry car and airplane.
“I’m glad you like it,” Neil said with a smile as he pulled out a chair at the glass topped table in front of the fountain. He offered the seat to me, and I gave him a long-suffering sigh before I sank into it.
“I’m sorry, it was force of habit,” he said wearily. He took his own chair, between Emma and me. The round table was set beautifully with elegant china and delicate gold cutlery, both of which I expected were from some antique collection.
“I had them make us a Portabella curry and green rice,” Emma said, unfolding her linen napkin across her lap. “But Sophie, if you wanted something with meat, I’m sure it could be arranged.”
“No, I like mushrooms,” I said pleasantly.
“Emma has encouraged me to try a vegan diet, for the health benefits,” Neil explained, somewhat sheepishly.
“I think that’s a great idea.” I could tell my response had surprised them both. “What? I know that a vegan diet is good for people. I worked at a fashion magazine, believe me, diets came up.”
“Medical Staffing Solutions called while you were en route,” Emma continued, as a woman in a smart black blouse and skirt came in bearing a large silver tureen. She held it while Emma served herself, and my eyes boggled.
I could not get my head around the idea of living with a hired staff. It had taken me ages to get used to Neil’s housekeeper in New York, and even when I came to terms with the idea, I’d still cleaned up before she’d arrived in the mornings. I smiled at the woman, but all I could think was, Can I get them to do a musical number to welcome me, like in Annie?
“They said they’ll communicate directly with Dr. Grant’s office,” Emma went on. “Once you’ve seen him, of course. But expect to have at least one full time nurse staying with you around the clock.”
“Wow.” My eyes widened. “Your health system really is better here.”
“I’m a private patient,” Neil explained as he spooned the green rice concoction onto his plate. “And I’m hoping to have as much of my treatment as possible supervised at home. I don’t care for hospitals, and I don’t want to be in one any longer than necessary.”
The woman with the tureen came to stand beside me, and I looked up and said, “Um, thanks,” as I helped myself.
“When will everyone be arriving?” Neil asked Emma, and she looked up from her plate. While the rest of the meal was served and the wine was poured— a cruelty-free white wine, although I had never realized animal parts went into wine production— Emma ticked off the planned guests on her fingertips.
“Everyone should be in on the day. Nana and Fiona will come for dinner, mum will come then, too. Michael should get here tonight...” Emma’s voice rose a little in pitch as she tried to contain her squeefulness over her boyfriend. It was adorable.
“Of course, if anyone were to arrive a bit early, it would be him, wouldn’t it?” Neil said tightly. “I trust you had a bedroom opened for him?”
“I did. All the way over in the west wing, where sound cannot travel.” She took a sip of her wine, her eyebrows raised as she fixed her gaze on the table in front of her.
My face burned. So, she’d heard us having enthusiastic sex once. Would we ever be forgiven?
Neil cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes. Well. I assume you’ll be staying with him, then?”
“I think we’ll all be happier that way. But keep in mind, Nana and Fiona will be staying on your end.” Emma snorted as she dug into her food.
“And I’ll be sure to put your mother and Bertie next to you and Michael.” Neil smiled sweetly at Emma.
“Bertie isn’t coming.” She wiped her mouth, her expression going suddenly grim. “Things aren’t well between the two of them. They took separate vacations this year.”
“Val took a vacation?” Neil said this the same way he might have said, “Val grew another head?”
“Poor phrasing,” Emma corrected. “Bertie took a vacation, because mum wouldn’t.”
I had no idea who anyone was, so I kept my expression neutral and my head down.
Lunch was delicious, even if it was vegan. I have to admit, my midwestern upbringing has made it difficult for me to comprehend any meal without meat. But the curry was excellent, the green rice something I had definitely never tried before, and everything hit the spot after the overnight flight.
Still, my eyelids were drooping by the end of the meal, in part because I couldn’t follow the conversation. Neil had an easy, if slightly antagonistic, rapport with his daughter, and they discussed family and arrangements for the holidays with a single-minded efficiency. Neil had told me that Emma’s job with Global Wellness was to arrange high-profile events and press opportunities. I think she’d missed her true calling as a wedding planner, from the way she’d ruthlessly nailed down every detail of Christmas.
Arranging elaborate dinners and deciding where everyone would sleep was a far cry from “We’re eating at one, but come any time,” at my mom’s house.
“Oh, Sophie, you look so tired,” Emma said, her brows drawing down in sympathy. “And we must be boring you to death.”
“I’m so sorry, darling.” Neil reached for my hand where it rested on the tabletop. “We’ve been going on and on about people you haven’t the faintest clue about.”
“The same thing happens to me when he talks about work or his old college friends,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes. “Dad, she’s exhausted. Why don’t you show her where your room is, so she can lie down.”
I gave Emma a grateful smile. I hadn’t wanted to seem rude or uninterested in socializing with her, but I needed a nap in the worst way.
The walk from the conservatory to the nearest staircase seemed to take miles, and my feet grew heavier with every step.
“You’ll hear the staff refer to this one as the west staircase,” Neil told me as we climbed up the dizzying double stair tower. The glass in the windows was wavy and bubbled, clearly original. “There is also the east staircase, the main staircase— that’s in the foyer— and the oak staircase, which is at the back of the house. It see
ms pretentious, I know, but having them named helps when you’re asking for directions.”
“I’m going to have to ask for directions?” I looked up the round tower, to the gothic points of dark wood in the carved ceiling above. Then I peered over the railing at the intricate wood parquet laid out on the ground level, and I thought I might faint from vertigo.
Neil had gone on a few steps ahead of me, and he turned back with a smug grin. “Only if you get lost.”
I jogged up to rejoin him. Getting lost seemed a definite possibility in this place.
Neil’s bedroom was six miles from anything else in the house. Okay, obviously that was an exaggeration, but it really was a long walk. The double doors were situated at the end of a long hall. A wide red runner covered the herringbone inlay on the floors, and more very impressive paintings hung on the walls.
“Who are all these portraits of?” I asked, analyzing the staunch Victorian figures for any likeness to Neil or Emma.
“I have no idea,” he admitted as we walked. “Somewhere on the first floor there are portraits of my mother’s great, great grandparents, but for all I know these people are total strangers. The house came into the family shortly after the baron who built it went bankrupt. The paintings and some furnishings came with it. Of course, we’ve added and replaced some things over the years.”
“So, this is kind of an inheritance?” I couldn’t really figure that part out. Neil had said the house had been in the family for a long time, but his mother was still alive, and he had three older siblings.
“In a way. It was my father’s, passed down to him by his father, who was minor nobility here in England. When my father died, he left the house to my mother. She already has an estate granted to her by her parents; Derwent House, makes this place look like a council flat. My brothers don’t even live in England, so they didn’t want it, and my sister couldn’t afford it, so I purchased it from my mother. And she gouged me thoroughly.”
I didn’t know what to say. When my mom died, I would inherit a sewing machine and some antique silver that supposedly dated back to the Civil War. “My mom bought our trailer from my grandpa,” I said quietly.
I was suddenly overwhelmed, but that could have been partially due to exhaustion, partially due to having to walk the distance of a marathon to get anywhere in this place.
Neil’s bedroom took up the entire top floor of the eastern tower. Beyond the heavy, dark wood doors, the interior was somewhat different than I had been expecting. I’d thought it would be as formal and stuffy as the rest of the house, and it was, a bit, but there were some modern touches to be found, like an en suite bathroom and a television over the fireplace.
Ornate gilt wainscoting, trim, and cornice molding bordered the walls covered in long rectangular panes of positively decadent pale blue-gray satin. The heavy gold velvet drapes at the huge leaded glass windows were drawn open, as were the sheer white curtains beneath. Wall-to-wall crème carpeting matched the rest of the colors without demanding attention. There was a curtained nook decorated with a Rococo tromp l’oeil mural of a garden, and the seat was upholstered all in blue-gray satin. I imagined taking a nap there and the thought evoked an almost sexual response.
I enjoy napping.
The bed, however, was almost too intimidating to contemplate. Situated against the same wall the door was on, it was easily the size of two California kings put together. An elaborate bed crown gathered gold velvet drapes on either side, and there were bolsters. Honest to god bolsters, like something out of a historical romance novel.
“You sleep in here.” I held up my hands and let them fall. “It looks like a museum, and you just sleep in here.”
“I don’t just sleep in here,” he said, his arms wrapping around my waist from behind. He leaned down and nibbled my ear, as though the sentence needed further punctuation for me to get the hint.
“I can’t imagine how you’d even keep track of another person in that bed. Or two or three.” I wandered away from him, trailing my fingers over the oval-shaped surface of a delicate lacquered table with spindly legs. “Is there a phone in here?”
There was one thing on my “To Do Before Leaving NYC” checklist that I hadn’t gotten to yet, and I couldn’t let it wait any longer. I’d held off calling Holli, because I hadn’t wanted to worry her or take up her time. Since I’d left my keys and my pre-filled out rent checks with Deja, I figured she would know what was up already, but I had to give her a ring.
“Yes, there is. Do you need help calling?”
Huh. Even the phones were different from ours? “I guess you would know better than I would. I need to call Holli in Paris.”
I spied my purse, set neatly on a wooden secretary-style desk in the corner. I went to it and fished out my cell. It didn’t work in England, something I didn’t realize until Neil had pointed it out to me in the car on the way from the airport. I pulled up Holli’s number and passed it off to Neil.
As Gabriella’s assistant, I had made plenty of international calls from the US. The dialing was a little bit different here, but Neil patiently explained it, then he handed me the phone and moved away. I watched him go to the wall and open it. There was a secret door in Neil’s bedroom. Holy shit, this was like Clue a little more every minute.
“Hello?” Holli answered uncertainly, and I realized she wouldn’t recognize the number.
“Guess where I am,” I prompted, lowering my voice a bit. It felt weird to act excited about being here; after all, it was Neil’s house, not some tourist destination— not for me, anyway. And I was here for serious reasons.
“A halfway house for unmarried pregnant women like in The Cider House Rules?” she asked dryly. “Why haven’t I heard from you?”
“A lot has gone on in the past week. First of all, no, bitch, I am not at a halfway house. I’m not even pregnant anymore, so that’s a total non-issue.” I took a deep breath. “I’m in England.”
“What?” Holli shrieked down the line. “Where the hell are you?”
“Langhurst Court? It’s Neil’s house.” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.
“So basically, you let him take you to a second location?” She snorted. “Seriously, though, you’re not in England.”
“I am! Check your phone.” I waited for her to check, then when she came back on the line, I said, “Told ya.”
“Sophie... what is going on?” She lowered her voice, too, like maybe she was somewhere she couldn’t talk candidly. That is, candidly for her. “You were supposed to go back to Michigan for Christmas. And you were like, broken up with Neil. What are you doing in England with him?”
“It’s a long story, do you have time?”
“Give me the highlights,” she said reluctantly. “I’m actually at a run through, we’re on a ten minute break and five are up.”
I took a deep breath and sank into the dainty, embroidered chair in front of the desk. “We’re not not-together anymore. We didn’t keep the baby, Neil has leukemia, and I came with him to England while he goes through chemotherapy.”
“Um... wow. That’s a lot to process. Are you okay?” she asked. In the background, I heard someone yelling in French.
Now wasn’t a good time to spill all my deepest emotions. She was at work, so I bucked up as best as I could. “Yeah, I’m doing good. I’ll talk to you about all this when you can. Save this number, I’ll be here until the twenty-sixth, I think.”
“Okay, but... Soph. Are you seriously okay? With the... you know?”
I did know. “Yeah. I felt guilty, which I wasn’t expecting. But Neil was really supportive about the whole thing.”
She sighed heavily. “I feel like such a see-you-next-Tuesday for not being there for you.”
“No.” I wouldn’t let her feel bad over following her dreams, just because the timing was bad for me. “You are doing exactly what you need to be doing. I’m not alone. Things with Neil are better than they ever were, and I’m really happy to be here.”
God, I missed her. It had only been a few days, and I missed her the way a kid misses her parents at camp. “Absolutely. Go get your runway on.”
When we hung up, I only cried a little bit.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Christmas morning dawned with beautiful flurries over the ornamental gardens at the back of the house. The heaping snow helped disguise the protective black plastic, covering the shrubs and fountain. It looked a little like the Beast’s castle in Beauty and The Beast, in the scene where Belle taught him how to feed birds out of his hands.
This observation was somewhat lost on Neil.
“I rarely watched cartoons with Emma when she was growing up,” he said apologetically, taking a sip from his coffee mug. He stood in front of the window in the bedroom, wrapped in a navy dressing gown. “I couldn’t stomach them. All the happy songs, the anthropomorphized woodland friends...” He shivered. “The very notion of speaking to a chipper squirrel who can process abstract concepts would keep me awake at night.”
“You might want to see a counselor about all that.” I lazed on the bed, painting my toenails. “Your way of doing Christmas makes so much more sense. Sleep in, bum around all day, party all night.”
He turned to face me with a smirk. “Remember, ‘bumming around’ means something extremely different here.”
“Oh, right. Anal.” I wiggled my toes at him then carefully lowered my foot so as not to get polish on the duvet. “Whatever, I like doing Christmas this way.”
“I’m glad.” He set his mug on the small table near the end of the bed as he came back to join me. “Although I do miss Emma bursting in here at four in the morning, demanding to open just one present before everyone arrived.”
It wasn’t four in the morning, but there was a polite knock.
The Girlfriend (The Boss) Page 9
