“Don’t let your body rule your heart, Garrett,” she’d said. “There are things a man wants, and will have. But when it comes to the finding therightwoman, the one you’ll want to love for the rest of your life, and build a family with, that’s when your heart must lead the way.” She grinned at him. “Just make sure you know the difference between your heart and your—”
“Mama.” He’d stopped her before she made him blush any more than she already had. There were no two ways about it, he was blessed with a mother that loved him and understood him. But he had to admit she was somewhat outspoken at times.
They shared a grief; the loss of his father had been an unexpected blow, but he’d passed away quickly, which had been merciful. His heart had just stopped, his physician said, and since he’d been in his own garden at home, his family could do nothing but mourn his loss. He’d been nearing eighty, had enjoyed a full and active life, and from everything Garrett had seen, his father had loved his young wife with a strong and unwavering passion.
They’d had four children, three of whom were settled into their own lives. He had remained with his mother, the two of them running the DeVarne estate, and rather enjoying it. He’d discovered he had a knack for such matters, and the fact that their country home of Belcaster was well away from town added to his pleasure.
He did keep in touch with friends, though, especially Harry Chalmers, whose house he was now approaching.
God bless Harry, one of life’s most charming companions. Nothing really seemed to upset him; if a crisis occurred, he’d shrug, deal with it as best he could, and move on. It was, reflected Garrett, easy to be friends with Harry. And one could not, in all fairness, ask for more.
They had met years ago at some sporting event, andas occasionally happens, found a friendship forming within moments of that first handshake.
Harry was charming, handsome, and completely unaware of his own merits, which made him an excellent companion. He had considerable wealth that he never mentioned, several homes around the country, and a small family that depended on him for just about everything.
The uncertain young man that Garrett had been at that time had found the perfect friend in Harry, who was already taking on responsibilities that rightfully belonged to older and wiser men.
When Garrett’s father had passed away a few years later, Harry was there within a day or so, offering whatever was needed in the way of an ear, a suggestion, or just a presence that demanded nothing and offered everything. Many took Harry for a dull chap, but Garrett knew better, and although he would have loved some time with his friend, he wasn’t surprised to find that Harry wasn’t at Myrtle Manor very regularly.
They accepted each other for what they were, and that was Garrett’s definition of a perfect friendship.
This little holiday was exactly what he needed. No endless hours spent at a desk working through estate business, no lengthy meetings with people who had important things to discuss, just freedom. He could sleep as long as he wanted, walk whenever the urge took him—as it had this morning—and think whatever thoughts chose to drift through his brain.
There was no question about it, being free to simply be himself was a delightfully informal business, and he made up his mind to cherish these summer days, no matter what.
As he neared Myrtle Manor, he paused for a moment.
Nestled at the bottom of a small hill, it was a neat and pleasant hunting box, with the perfect amount of tidy lawns, shrubs, a few flowers, and a gravel driveway leading to awelcoming set of stairs. Nothing imposing or overwhelming, no clear statement of wealth and station in life.
It didn’t scream “only the wealthiest people reside within”, as so many country homes did. This one simply smiled and whispered “welcome”.
He blinked, then laughed at himself for the whimsical thought, just as the sound of a carriage approaching caught his attention.
It appeared from the northeast, kicking up a little dust as it slowed and turned into the Myrtle Manor drive.
Someone else visiting Harry, perhaps?
Garrett sighed. It looked as if his enjoyable self-isolation might be ending, but he could easily avoid Harry’s guests if he needed to. Informality had its advantages.
Hurrying down the hill and around behind some massive bushes, he arrived at the front doorstep just as the carriage was disgorging its occupants. And more than a few pieces of what looked like expensive luggage.
“Uh oh.” His heart sank as an elegant lady emerged, caught sight of him and laughed delightedly.
He sighed. “Hullo Mama. What onearthbrings you here?”
*~~*~~*
Cherry’s somewhat aggressive tramp back through the woods toward home did little other than to give her the chance to mutter beneath her breath at the outrageous nerve of some people. Trespass on her property, would he? She’d see about that.
Aggravating ruffian.
Her conscience kicked her. Well, all right, he wasn’t quite a ruffian, and he’d been gentlemanly in his behaviour.
And yes, she could not but observe that if he had been otherwise, she might have found herself in a difficult position. But that did not mean that she was about to drag her poor maid with her everywhere she walked.
The forest washers.
She knew every hollow, every path, almost every plant that grew—or failed to—within its boundaries. The trees had a rhythm to their lives that matched hers; coming alive in the spring as the soft green buds burst into a canopy that soaked up the growing sunshine, shading her through the summer, then lighting her autumn with brilliance as they reddened and tumbled to the floor, where her shoes crunched them into dust.
