“We’re here.” Jude eased his black Ford Bronco to a stop at an electronic gate a few miles outside the town of Groomsport.
Jeremiah watched his brother punch numbers into a keypad.
“The code is two two two two,” Jude said. “That’s in honor of the two F1 championships you won. In fact, as far as I know, all your four-digit passcodes are two two two two. Not extremely original.”
“Nor humble.”
The gate slotted to the side. Boundary walls continued in both directions from the gate, disappearing into the trees. It seemed his property was large in size. It also seemed his house was located on top of a hill, because the paved drive took them up through woods yellow and orange and burgundy with autumn leaves. Through the foliage, a meadow came into view. It rose toward a big red-brick house that was obviously over a century old. “This is where I live?”
“Yes. Is it different from what you were expecting?”
“I guess I was expecting something modern.”
“The inside’s modern but the outside’s historic. You like old things.”
He did? “It looks more . . . grand than what I would want.”
“Grand is your style. You and Dad are similar in that way. The bigger, the better.” They parked outside a four-car garage and Jude killed the engine. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. Your amnesia is strange for me, so I can’t imagine how strange it must be for you.”
“Very.”
“I read up on the condition last night and almost everyone gets their memories back.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll be one of those. Until that happens, I’m happy to do anything you need.”
Jude didn’t have a garage door opener, so they followed a stone path to the front where white columns held up a deep covered porch that spanned the length of the house. An outdoor dining table occupied the porch as did fire tables on both ends surrounded by seating. Jeremiah turned to take in the view. Hills curved down to the town of Groomsport and its horseshoe-shaped bay, which glittered navy in the sun.
“What’s the population of Groomsport?” Jeremiah asked.
“Five thousand.” Jude unlocked the front door. The house alarm beeped so Jude disappeared into the office on the right to deal with it.
Inside Appleton, the floor was pale, wide-plank hardwood. The walls—dark gray. Unlike Remy, it appeared that he preferred uncluttered spaces and had good taste in art.
When Jude returned, he seemed to get that Jeremiah needed time to take it all in. They stood side by side for long seconds.
“Do I like chocolate pudding?” Jeremiah eventually asked.
Jude released a bark of laughter. “What?”
“Here are the things I think are true about me. I think I like chocolate pudding. I have faith in God. I’m a fan of nice cars, nice rum, nice coffee.”
“These days you eat food that’s healthier and more sophisticated than pudding. We used to go to church regularly as kids. But as far as I know, you’ve fallen away from that as an adult, maybe because of your schedule. You’re right about the rest.”
What had he become? “Am I a jerk?”
“No. You’re a good guy. Just . . . driven.” Jude had the type of demeanor that put a person at ease. He seemed calm and capable. Much easier to take than their father and mother.
“You and Fiona were listed as medical contacts. Felix wasn’t. What’s my relationship with him?”
“Similar to my relationship with him. Good but not necessarily close. Dad’s a complex person. He has his strengths, but unselfishness isn’t one of them.”
“What’s my relationship like with Fiona?”
“Solid. She’s complex, too. Intelligent, strong, protective. Sometimes pushy. When it comes to you and me, she’s unselfish because we’re her two favorite people in the world. She’s from a big family, the third of seven kids.”
“What’s my relationship with you like?”
