And that smell—the flowers and the sea. I breathe it in again and try to picture a miniature version of myself here. A two-year-old girl running along the white stone pathway, her dark hair blowing in the warm breeze. A woman chasing her. Laughing.
My chest aches.
When the driver shuts my door behind me, I go to retrieve my backpack from the trunk, but Ambrose stops me.
"My staff will bring everything in for you," he says. "Come, I'll show you where you'll be staying. Are you hungry?"
Not even a little bit. "Not really."
"That's all right," he says, but I can sense a note of disappointment in his tone. "I have some appointments in the afternoon tomorrow, but we can do a proper tour in the morning once you're settled."
I nod and smile, glancing back in time to see the driver sling my bag onto his shoulder and lift the obnoxious Louis Vuitton trunk Linette packed for me onto the pathway.
At least I have my phone on me. In a panic, I feel around for the pocket of the jacket slung over my arm, and sag in relief when the hard rectangle of the device residing there kisses my fingers.
Ambrose leads me into the grand entryway. It's warmer inside, and the sound of my heeled sandals echoes into the vaulted ceiling.
"We have a skeleton staff at the moment since I've been spending most of my time overseas," Ambrose explains, hanging his jacket on a hook and then holding a hand out for mine.
Quickly, I pluck my phone from its pocket and hand it to him.
"Oh, that won't work here," he says offhandedly, like he didn't drive another nail into my coffin. "No service."
Sure enough, when I tap the screen, I can see the little SOS symbol lighting up the corner where there should be bars.
"Being so remote, we have a satellite system here for connectivity. I'll have someone from my staff get you connected in the morning."
Remote…
…no service.
I've been here before.
And I know exactly what happens when I connect to Ambrose's cellular network.
He'll be able to see everything I do on my phone.
"I should really let my dog sitter know I've arrived. I want to make sure Ellie's okay."
His brows rise. "Of course. In that case, I'll send someone up right away for you."
My sigh is audible. "Thanks."
"This way." He gestures as the driver enters behind us with all of our things.
I want to ask for my bag now, but I don't want to seem overly concerned about it, so I clench my teeth against the request and stay quiet instead, following Ambrose deeper into the estate.
We pass through a large sitting room and a formal dining room, with Ambrose narrating as we go.
"There's a powder room here off the main dining room." He indicates a narrow corridor. "And the kitchen is back through there." He points down the next hall we pass. "But my staff can get you anything you might need. I've had them install a concierge phone in your room."
As we continue toward another wide space with a grand staircase leading to the second floor, he gestures to an arched opening on our right. Through it, I see stacks of books and glimpse a double-doored entry farther in, with frosted glass in the panes of the doors.
"My appointments are away from the estate tomorrow afternoon, but my office is through the library there, and it's where you'll find me most afternoons while you're here."
Jackpot.
As we ascend the stairs, my skin prickles, the familiarity of them hitting me like a slap.
