“I’m glad to hear it. Chef is preparing breakfast right now. You’re welcome to eat in the dining room, or I can have it brought to your room. Of course”—he pauses and glances out the double doors—“you’re welcome to explore aroundinside.”
Her throat works a small swallow. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t going to. I-I haven’t seen the grass. I was—never mind. I’ll take breakfast in my room. Thanks.”
She offers Edmond a smile, but then her eyes land on me, and I watch it fall. Gone—drained from her face.
Walk away. Walk away.I’ve lingered here longer than … no, I should’ve stayed upstairs.
She darts past, bare feet slapping against the cool hardwood, and I stand there listening as the door to the guest room shuts.
Edmond stares at me, and I avoid his scrutiny by shuffling toward the French doors.
“Elliot’s on his way. Said you weren’t answering your text messages.” He turns to go but stalls. “Oh, and, Slade. Here, I think you need this more than me.” He hands me his coffee and steps away.
I snarl down at it until I’m distracted by the streams of light rolling over the yard, and I glance back out the window. What the?—
In the line of sight from which she couldn’t tear her eyes minutes ago, a dandelion sways.
One single dandelion.
What the hell? I’ve never seen a dandelion in this yard.
Small, stubborn, and stupidly bright in the middle of all that fertilized summer green.
Was that it? Was that what she’d been staring at?
Out of everything—this massive house, the lake, the gardens, hedges—she focused on that. A damn weed.
Some of the only moments of peace I get are when I’m in the elevator.
It’s the in-between. Just me and the low hum of the distant motor until I’m at my office. When I’m alone and the walls are close enough, I can hear my thoughts without drowning in the opinions of everyone else. Here, I’m not a congressman, not a grandson, not a monster playing savior—I’m just quiet. Slade.
It’s always been this way.
When I was younger, my grandfather had his “gatherings.” Half-naked women laughed while powder lines stretched in endless strips across the table, and the men he worked with drowned themselves in alcohol.
I’d slip away to his condo’s private elevator with a stack of comic books tucked under my arm, press the button for the bottom floor, and sit cross-legged in the corner. The world went quiet except for the low hum of the motor carrying me up and down.
Most of the time, no one looked for me. He didn’t notice. He was too high, drunk, or lost in the women’s attention to care. It was the only place I could go to get lost in the pages full of people who actually fought for something. Sometimes, I think that was the last place I felt safe.
Not the penthouse. Not the office. Not the summer mansion. Not the DuPont legacy.
The damn elevator.
I guess some things never change.
My reflection in the closed steel doors is diabolical. I’m put together—tailored suit, ironed tie, fresh shoes—but inside I’m chaos. Hungry for sure. Disheveled and tired. And too concerned about a single dandelion in my yard.
Ugly damn thing.
The first thing on my list for Elliot is to have him bump up my lawn service and to make sure they spray for weeds.
Floors continue to roll by, and I know my time to soak up the peace is nearing the end. It hits the top floor, and as soon asthe elevator dings and the doors open, Elliot is standing there, schedule in hand.
When I step out, he heels at my side as I walk to my office.
“Good morning, Congressman. Okay, so the education funding bill has stalled in committee—again—but they’re trying to push it through. I sent over your thoughts. You’ve got the Veterans Affairs call before nine, then a closed-door budget meeting with Bishop and Cooks at ten. Your statement on the newest energy resolution needs to be finalized by noon. Staffers flagged a few things, mostly language that could backfire—I’ll email you the edits. Oh, and the ethics committee sent over a reminder about disclosure filings, which I know you hate, but we can’t ignore this time. Congressman Petes, from Maryland, had to cancel lunch, and your grandfather called. Twice.”
I round my desk as he’s finishing up and gesturing to some paperwork on my desk.
