“Do I need to come up with another tear-jerker, woe-is-me story to get you up this driveway? I’m fresh out, so you might as well pull over and we’ll walk up the damn thing.”
“Shut up,” I said, and started the car up again, easing into gear much more smoothly. I sighed. Shit, would I always have to be emotionally moved by Stick—either in sympathy or rage—to be a good driver?
I finally pulled to the middle of the circle drive, right in front of the impressive, yet understated, home.
Some sick part of me wanted to do a selfie in front of it and text it to my mother, but I kept the urge in check.
I cut the engine, but kept my hands on the steering wheel.
Stick got out of his side, then walked around to mine. I wasn’t waiting for him to open the door for me, I was debating starting the car back up and taking off.
As if he sensed it, he opened the door, reached in and took the keys out of the ignition.
“Come on, chickenshit, it’s just one small lady in one big house.”
As he knew I would, I rose to his challenge, mentally and physically, rising out of the car and following Stick to the front door.
Chapter15
“Jane,it’s so good to see you. Please, come in,” Caroline Stratton said, holding the enormous front door open for Stick and me.
Speechless, I shot a look at Stick. A “there will be hell to pay later” look that he totally understood.
He nudged me inside, following me. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered in my ear.
What Stick would need to be explaining, and what had me so shocked that I could barely walk into the grand foyer, was Caroline’s appearance.
The woman, whom I had just seen at Betsy’s wedding six or seven weeks earlier, had dropped at least thirty pounds since then.
And not in a good way.
The cancer was back. And if I had to guess (and that was all it would be, given my very limited knowledge of the disease), I’d say it was pretty advanced.
Caroline and Stick exchanged a look, and I knew it was about my reaction.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Caroline,” I said. Meaning it even more so now that I’d seen her. She was dressed in a comfy-looking designer tracksuit that hung on her, but not as much as it should have. She’d obviously bought some newer clothes recently.
Or had someone buy them for her. There was no way she could have gone out looking like this and it not be all over the news.
So she had decided not to tell the public.
And why did I think that had something to do with my father running for governor?
“Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we? I was just looking at the proofs the wedding photographer emailed. You look absolutely beautiful in them, Jane.”
I followed her through the foyer, taking surreptitious glances into the rooms that we passed. A great room done in taupe and deep blue. A study, walls lined with bookshelves and a huge, but feminine, desk in the middle of the room, lots of comfy chairs with soft-looking throws laid over their corners. A formal dining room with heavy, dark furniture and floor-length windows that looked out onto the rolling grounds of the estate, bare and frozen.
And then the kitchen, which I entered behind Caroline. She went through the room and stood by the long granite counters, then waved me toward the sunny nook, where she had a laptop open, a cup of something by its side.
“We’ve disturbed you,” I said, wishing I was anywhere but here. Curious as I was to see the inside of the house I’d stared at so many times, I felt like an intruder.
Which was exactly what I was. Exactly what I’d always been to this woman—an intruder who broke up her family.
“Nonsense. Like I said, I was just looking at photos. Sit. What can I get you to drink? Are you a coffee drinker like Stick? Or would you prefer some herbal tea with me?”
“Um…neither. Just a water, if that’s okay,” I said, making my way to the table. Stick, I noticed, placed his phone and Yvette’s keys on a place on the counter that looked like it was made for just such a purpose. And that he’d done it many times.
Which would not have been the case if he was always in the garage.
