Jack nodded. “Everywhere I go.”
“Could you maybe only chew it when they aren’t around? My mother thinks it’s tacky.”
Jack grinned as he continued chomping down on his stick of spearmint gum. “They really have you spooked.”
She knew them and he didn’t. “Maude and Grayson Chadwick could spook General Patton.” Alice handed Jack a wad of tissues. “Here, spit out your gum, please.”
He obliged, wadded up the tissues around the gum, and slapped them back into her palm. She shoved the wad in her pocket without complaint, because Maude had already emerged onto the front porch, and the show was about to begin.
Jack gaped at Alice’s family home. The River House didn’t look like a home, it was more like a country club. It was a sprawling stone-and-timber affair with a helicopter pad in the front yard and a pier, boathouse, and lawn next to the Potomac River in the back. A terraced garden unfolded before the house, held in place by slate retaining walls artfully arrayed to look natural, but they were clearly installed by a master landscape architect.
Alice’s mother looked as imposing as her home. Wearing an indigo cashmere sweater and a strand of steel pearls, she looked like a cross between Jackie Onassis and Cruella de Vil.
“You must be Jack,” she said in a skeptical voice as she greeted them on the porch leading to the house.
He dipped his head in a little bow. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Chadwick. This place is spectacular.”
Not a dent of softening as the older woman locked a laser beam on Alice.
“Hi, Mom,” Alice said, exchanging air kisses with her mother. “Jack was nice enough to drive me up since my car isn’t the best for long drives.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside; dinner is waiting.” Maude gestured them into the foyer and through the family room rimmed with loaded bookshelves and a baby grand piano in the corner. Dozens of photographs in silver frames covered the lid of the piano.
A dark-haired man about Jack’s age stepped forward to shake his hand. “Adam Chadwick,” he introduced himself. “Golf? Tomorrow morning? I’ve got reservations for an eight o’clock tee time.”
“Sounds great,” Jack said. Alice’s older brother had a tall, athletic build, but none of her beauty. His face had the ruggedness of something carved with an axe—sharp cheekbones and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times.
“Please ring the dinner bell,” Maude ordered Adam, who gave his mother a little salute before heading outside.
“Brace yourself,” Alice whispered to him. “The dinner bell is an air raid siren from World War II.”
The piercing wail began before she even finished speaking. It escalated in volume, the spine-tingling wail setting his nerves on edge. Alice cupped her hands over her ears, but Maude remained unfazed.
“We started using the siren to call the children in from sailing on the river,” she explained once the siren began winding down. “Now we use it to let Quentin know it’s time to leave his hovel and join the civilized world for a meal.”
Alice had already told him about Quentin, her younger brother who was the only genuinely kind person in her family. He was a wildlife biologist and lived about a mile away “in a little shack out in the swamps” where he studied turtles.
The dining room reflected a blend of classic East Coast style and rustic Virginia heritage. The long dining table was polished to a soft sheen beneath a set of antler chandeliers. French doors opened onto a veranda overlooking the Potomac.
Alice walked him over to an older man with silver hair and a military bearing who stood at the head of the table. “Jack, this is my father, Grayson Chadwick.” It would be easy to be intimidated by a man who once served as secretary of state under two different presidents, but Jack was used to dealing with big shots at country clubs and met the man with a firm handshake.
“You must have robbed the entire county of slate to build that fantastic retaining wall out front. Is it Buckingham slate?”
Grayson gave a growl of appreciation. “Vermont slate. I wanted that smoky gray tone that wouldn’t crack in the winter. It cost a fortune to import.”
“Good slate is worth it,” Jack replied.
“Tell that to my wife. That wall has been standing there for thirty years, and she still gripes about the cost.”
A household helper named Sharon wheeled a dinner cart into the dining room, and everyone took their seats. During the drive, Alice had told him that Sharon had been with the family “forever.” Maude didn’t cook, and some of Alice’s earliest memories were standing at Sharon’s elbow, watching and learning and dreaming of the day she too could cook.
Grayson sat at the head of the table, while Jack and Alice sat beside each other, Maude and Adam opposite them. Sharon quickly filled each of the plates, but when she came to the empty place setting, the maid cleared it.
“We aren’t waiting for Quentin?” Jack asked, and a chill came over Maude’s face.
“He heard the siren. If he can’t arrive on time, he won’t perish from missing a meal.”
Grayson gave a brief blessing, then silverware clattered as everyone began cutting into the chicken Florentine.
