“Your son and Grant’s cousin Carter were two peas in a pod. Always in trouble,” Margaret said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Grant wondered if it was that obvious he was angry.
“All our kids are friends,” Nancy said, coming up with a plate of snacks in her hand. She was wearing a breezy top and loose-fitting silk pants. She seemed like the type of mom you would want if you were adopted, Grant thought.
“Whenever my sons return, we need to have a proper get-together with people your own age,” she said, wrapping an arm around Grant. “Maybe if Jack and the boys go hunting, you can go along too. Jack’s a pretty good shot. They usually spend a few weeks with all of us on Martha’s Vineyard. Your father used to bring the kids.” She looked sad for a moment then brightened. “He can bring you now.”
Dinner was individual lobster potpies with endive salad.
“You made this?” Grant asked Nancy, impressed. “It’s delicious.” His adoptive mother never cooked. A good dinner in his childhood was something out of a box.
“I told you she was a great chef,” Kate said, digging into her potpie.
“Oh, it’s nothing!” Nancy replied, pouring wine for the Burbanks.
After dinner, they retired to the parlor. Nancy had a fire going. Against one wall, there was a table with cheese, fruit, and various wines.
“Everyone help yourselves,” she announced.
Grant wandered over to the table. It was an impressive cheeseboard.
“You should show him the garden, Kate. I brought back some new sculptures from Italy. I bet he hasn’t seen anything like it,” Nancy said.
“I’d love to see it,” Grant said. “I’m sure Kate can give me the whole tour.”
“Of course she can!” Nancy exclaimed. “She’s spent hours listening to me prattle on about it. She helped me plan for it. She’s the daughter I always wanted. My boys are great, but you need a girl to cook with and decorate and throw parties.”
Grant winced. He felt bad for Carter, if this was what he had to deal with for years.
“Go on! This is why one puts so much work into a garden, to let other people enjoy it!” Nancy said and shooed them out through the French doors leading to the sumptuous landscape.
As they walked through the garden, Kate pointed out the various plants and how the garden had been designed in a formal Baroque style.
She led him down one narrow path, stating, “Nancy had been looking for the perfect statue to go in front of this fountain. It looks like she found it.” The statue was of a young woman, the marble expertly carved to make it look as if she was covered in a veil. The figure reached up, the marble hand almost touching the tree branch that had started to bud.
“It’s beautiful,” Grant said, his hands clasped behind his back. They contemplated the statue. Kate had her arms wrapped around herself, and Grant took off his jacket and put it around her.
“I’m fine, really,” she said.
“You look cold.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
He rotated her toward him and held her lightly in in his arms.
“Don’t,” she said to him.
He ignored her and leaned down and kissed her softly.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” she whispered against his mouth.
But she leaned into him, and he bent down to kiss her once more and ran his hands up and down her back, his tongue tracing her sweet mouth.
“I just want to be with you,” he whispered. “Don’t you want this?”
“No,” she said. Grant knew she was lying, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he was moving too fast.
Stepping back, he asked, “Ready to go inside?”
She nodded.
