“Follow me. I’ll clean this mess up later.”
“I can do that, it’s my fault.”
“I won’t hear of it. You’re a guest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Now come on so I can get you fed.”
“All right.”
We walk down the spiral staircase and step into the opulent foyer. Beautiful modern sculptures rest on pedestals, reminding me of the art museums I’ve visited in the past. My pace slows as I take in the lavish surroundings. Jackie is patient and doesn’t rush me. A large family portrait sits over the fireplace in the living room; the typical all-American family. I wonder if his parents are still married. Envy stabs at me for being denied this. Life was never perfect for me, but my mom made it bearable, and then she was gone. Dom is no more than eight years old in the photo. Behind that big bright smile is a mischievous little boy. A single moment captured in time tells me more about Dom than he would ever willingly disclose to me. It’s clear he had a happy childhood and wonderful support system. When did the glow in his twinkling eyes diminish, and how can I get it back? Maybe we’re different sides of the same coin. The light in my eyes died the same day my mother did. Two traumatized people can’t help each other—inevitably, we’d collide and implode. I’m staying the course knowing this.
We pass a glass wall, and beyond is an abundance of greenery, colorful flowers, and rustic furniture. The ceiling and walls enclosing the room are also glass. Situated in the center of the room is an enormous circular fish tank filled with a plethora of marine life.
“What is this called?”
“Solarium.”
“It’s so vibrant and breathtaking.”
“I spend at least an hour in there a day, reading a book. It’s my favorite room in the entire mansion.”
“I’m so jealous.”
“Stop by for a spell after you’re done eating.”
“Maybe.”
That definitely will not be happening. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I’ll eat, get dressed, then be on my way. I would’ve left already if it weren’t for my gnawing belly. We continue on and step into a gorgeous dining room.
“Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
The rectangular table is positioned before a large window with a sparkling chandelier hanging above it. Twelve cream-colored upholstered chairs surround the polished wood. This room has a fireplace as well. The kitchen is connected by an open doorway, and I watch Jackie go about her task. Soon, she’s placing a huge bowl of the fragrant soup in front me and a tall glass of tea.
She sits in the chair beside me. “Bon appétit.”
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate earlier.”
“Oh, okay.” I down a hearty spoonful. “This is really delicious.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
I devour the tastybisque in minutes.
“Would you like more?”
“No, I’m stuffed.” I take a small sip of the too-sweet drink. “How long have you worked for Dom?”
“Three years.”
“What sort of boss is he?” I could kick myself. Obviously, subtlety is not my forte, but I’m too curious about solving the Dominic Stone puzzle to pass up the opportunity to gather information.
“I couldn’t ask for a kinder and more generous employer. My husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I missed a lot of work to take him to chemotherapy treatments, but Dominic still paid my salary and even a bonus for medical expenses.”
“How is your husband now?”
