Besides,she thought,I can’t be trusted in a relationship. And if Grant or anyone else ever found out what happened in my past, it would destroy everything.
“Eat your snack,” the flight attendant said, walking away. “We’ll be landing soon.”
It was evening when they reached Connecticut. Grant started when the wheels touched down on the ground. Gus barked as his owner looked around wild-eyed, breathing hard.
“It’s okay,” Kate said soothingly. “We’ve arrived.”
Grant nodded silently.
“Here,” Kate said as the plane taxied. “Drink some water.” She cupped his chin and lifted the bottle of sparkling water to his lips. Grant sipped some as Kate petted his hair.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
The flight attendant gave him a sympathetic smile.
Grant shook the captain’s and copilot’s hands as he exited the plane, saying, “Thank you.”
“Take care,” the captain said. “I was in the Air Force and flew over Afghanistan and Iraq. It gets easier. Just take it a day at a time.”
“Yes, sir,” Grant replied.
“Off we go,” Kate said, taking Grant by the arm. “I’m sure all the events of the last couple days and returning home from your deployment is catching up to you. It’s a half-hour drive to the house, and then you can take a shower and rest.”
Chapter 4
Grant
Grant barely registered the drive through the suburbs and small towns to the Holbrook estate in New Cardiff.
He got impressions of historic, well-kept, ornate buildings and elaborate estates, their lights distant through the carefully manicured landscapes and trees.
As they sped past one burned-out old mansion, he got a brief whiff of smoke, but he was too tired to wonder about it. Gus was energetic and upbeat, and he bounced from Grant’s lap to Kate’s to look out the windows and bark at the lights as they passed.
Finally, the car pulled up to a tall black gate. The security guard buzzed it open, and they went up a long, winding driveway lined by huge trees.
Grant whistled as they approached the house. Actually, it was more than a house—it was a mansion. The three-story stone building had a tall peaked roofline punctuated by dormers.
The car pulled up to the front of the house. Perfectly manicured bushes edged the walkway and stairs up to the arched arcade marking the front door. Grant was too in awe to feel out of place. Gus bounced around him in excitement at all the new smells. Grant opened the door, and the dog burst out and graced one of the bushes with his presence. In the distance, Grant saw other outbuildings. Perhaps a detached garage? What else would someone have on their land?
“This is a twenty-acre estate,” Kate informed him. “It’s large for this area. There is a pool, tennis courts, and a climate-controlled garage for Mr. Holbrook’s antique car collection, plus another garage for everyday cars. There is also a stable for three horses. Tomorrow, I’ll give you a full tour of the grounds. It’s a really beautiful property. It was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted—he’s the famous landscape architect who designed Central Park.”
“Oh” was all Grant could say. He was still a bit in shock from all the wealth.
The feeling of being overwhelmed intensified when the butler ushered them through the largest front door Grant had seen outside of the military—and it was much nicer than any of those doors.
The foyer was a creamy white with large beams on the ceilings, arched doorways leading to various rooms and hallways, and rich, dark wooden floors. An ornate blown-glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. On the wall was a large portrait of a man Grant assumed was Walter Holbrook along with three young children, two girls and a boy. They were smiling broadly. They looked happy. Grant didn’t think he ever looked that happy with his adoptive parents. Feeling off-kilter, he picked up Gus. He did not want the puppy make a mess in the pristine house.
“Right this way, Mr. Holbrook.” The butler had a light Eastern European accent.
“Should I take off my boots?” he asked uncertainly.
“However you feel most comfortable,” the butler replied. Grant opted to tread carefully in his boots as he followed the butler up the sweeping staircase. The butler and Kate chitchatted as they walked through the enormous house. Grant struggled to follow their conversation and take in the opulent surroundings.
“Here we are,” the butler said as he opened a door to a tastefully decorated room. “This will be your suite, Mr. Holbrook.”
“It’s Grant Jones,” Grant corrected. “You can call me Grant.”
“As you wish.” The butler led him in. “Your bags will be brought up shortly.”
