“He was, and that’s why he went out of his way to charm my mother first. He started attending their church and volunteering at any event that my grandmother signed up for. Dad wasn’t much into basketball, but when he found out that my grandfather was a huge fan of the Celtics, my father studied up on basketball and started attending some of the games.”
“Was your mother aware that he was doing all of this?” Darius asked.
“Only after his name started coming up in discussions at home. And then my grandmother invited him to dinner after church one Sunday.”
“I’ll bet he didn’t tell your mother that either,” Joe said with a dark chuckle.
“He didn’t.” Eve loved this part of the story. “He just showed up at the door, and my mother answered it. She panicked, thinking he was trying to force the issue. Then my grandfather was there inviting Dad in and introducing him to my mother, and she had to act like she didn’t know him.”
“Was it easy sailing after that?” Darius asked.
“There were still a few hitches, but Dad’s a smart man, and he went slowly. By the time he officially asked her out—they’d been seeing each other secretly for months—he’d become a fixture at their house, and it didn’t seem such an alien idea. My grandparents still struggled, but my father’s always treated my mother like she was a queen. When my Dad came to them to ask permission to marry their daughter, grandfather was going to refuse, but my grandmother stopped him. She said that when a man treated her daughter the way my dad did, being a different race didn’t matter.”
“Is this the place?” the driver called, pointing ahead.
Someone stood on a sideroad waving something yellow. Beyond that, a fair distance away, was what could have been mistaken as a small forest, except for the hint of a rooftop.
“That must be it.” Eve’s stomach twisted.
“Does your grandfather know his son married a black woman?” Darius whispered.
“I seriously doubt it. Like I said, the only communication my father’s had with him was that solicitor’s letter and then a couple of phone calls in the last few weeks.”
“Then they could be in for a surprise.”
“Yep.” And that didn’t help settle her nerves at all.
The driver took his time up the tree-lined drive and made another turn. Darius was impressed with the well-maintained lawn and colorful flowerbeds.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s no farmhouse.”
“I can’t believe my father never said he grew up in a castle.” Eve tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m getting intimidated, and I have a feeling that’s not a good way to feel when meeting my grandfather.”
“Then don’t be intimidated.” Darius pressed his lips to her temple. “You have no reason to feel that way.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m not sure I like this place,” Joe said, looking at his phone and then scanning the area. “The reception’s lousy. I’m glad I brought my satellite phone in case their Wi-Fi isn’t any good. Or they don’t have any.”
A sense of unease settled on Darius. They were in an isolated part of Scotland, a good thirty kilometers from the nearest town, which hadn’t been all that big.
The car pulled up about twenty feet from the elegant manor. While it had the look of age with its many stone chimneys, it looked like the owners over the years had updated it by putting in larger, modern windows. It was actually a beautiful combination of old and new. The driver got out and opened Eve’s door while Joe got Darius’s. Eve stepped out but didn’t move away from the car, and Darius came to stand beside her.
The front door opened, and a short man wearing a tweed suit emerged, his balding head shining in the rare sunshine. He scanned them, frowned, and then peered into the car like he thought someone else must be inside. Eve stiffened beside Darius, and he knew what the man was looking for.
“Where is Miss Stewart?” His accent was English, not Scottish.
“That would be me,” Eve said.
The little man blinked. “Evelynn Stewart, daughter of Bruce Stewart?”
“One and the same.”
“Oh, dear.” The man started to wring his hands. “This is most unexpected.”
“I think it’s time to go.” Eve was still standing by the open door of the car and moved to get inside again.
“Oh my goodness, Miss Stewart, please don’t leave.” The little man ran up to her door. “I meant no offense. I apologize for my poor manners.” He bowed and then extended his hand. “Horace Dalrymple, solicitor. Welcome to Hedson Park.”
