"And you let us." She raised her eyebrows, and he nodded. "That's the trick, Alara. I won't claim to know what it is in your history that makes it so difficult for you. All I can tell you is what I know from my own experience. When you have people in your life who want to take care of you, life gets a whole lot better—for you and for them—if you allow it."
"Thanks. I think I'm starting to learn that."
"I'm glad."
They sat in silence another while. She loved the light here. It bathed the vine-covered hills in gold.
When the sun glinted off something, she leaned forward, trying to figure out what it was. It had to be that same greenhouse, or whatever it was, that had caught her eye from the office—the golden light that had finally brought the whole design concept together for her.
She turned to Charles and pointed. "Do you know what that place is?"
He looked for a few moments, a wistful faraway look in his eyes. "I do. I know that place very well."
Something about his tone caught in her chest, and she waited, hoping he'd tell her more.
He took another sip of his whiskey before he continued, never taking his gaze off the glinting glass in the distance. "The thing that catches the light is a greenhouse."
She'd thought as much, but she didn't want to say so. Instead, she waited.
"When it's shining like that, you can't make out what’s beside it." He paused, seeming lost in his memories for a few moments before pulling himself together. "It's the house. That was the first house I bought for my darling Marguerite." He glanced at her. "For Reaves's mother. She would have loved you."
"I would have loved to know her."
He nodded. "But the house." He cleared his throat. "I bought it for her when we came here. It stands on a small parcel of land. When we first moved in, I used to stare at this place—this house wasn't here then. Just the land. I knew that one day it would be covered in my vines. That we'd work this land, grow the vines, and make wonderful wine together." He nodded. "And we did. Just not for long enough, I'm afraid."
He sat up a little straighter. "I built this place for her." He gave her a rueful smile. "People thought it was an eyesore at first. I imagine some still do. But it never bothered me. My Marguerite wanted to live in a castle, so I made sure that she did."
Alara's hand came up to cover her heart. "Oh, Charles."
He nodded.
"Do you still own that house?" she asked eventually.
"Oh, yes. Yes. I couldn't… I'd never…" He shook his head. "It was rented out for years. A nice young family. But they grew up and moved on." He shrugged sadly. "I should probably do something about it."
She wanted to tell him he should never let it go. It was easy to see how much it meant to him. But it wasn't her place to say.
Silence settled over them again for a while, Reaves and Zia's laughter drifting to them, snippets of conversation—and if Alarawasn't mistaken, the wordHomerwas coming up on Zia's side far too often.
The sun had set now, and the sky was slowly fading to darkness.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, watching him take it in.
"It is. I love this moment when the stars return." He pointed to a constellation she didn't recognize. "That's where she lives, for me now." He gave her a rueful smile. "I don't know if you believe in that sort of thing. To be honest, I don't know what I believe myself. But it gives me some comfort to think she's up there, riding the stars, having fun." He looked a little embarrassed. "The ramblings of a sentimental old fool."
She reached out to touch his arm. "Don't say that, Charles. You're not old, and you're no fool. And for what it's worth, I'm just as sentimental."
He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded. She still hadn't told Reaves. But Charles had shared with her, and it felt important to share with him.
"That's where Zia thinks her father lives, too."
His eyes grew wide, but he didn't question her.
"The subject hasn't come up, but I'm sure you must have wondered." She glanced toward the side of the house. "And Reaves, too. I'm not hiding anything. It just…" She shook her head. "He was a good man. He was my friend." She gave him a sad smile. "And that's really all he ever was. We grew up together."
She looked out at the greenhouse. "I didn't know my parents. I was raised by my aunt. She hadn't wanted children of her own,so I was something of an inconvenience to her. Jesse lived next door. He was a couple of years older than me, and I was a quiet, skinny kid." She said it with a smile. "He looked out for me. He was kind. And there was nothing—no romance. He went away to college. But he came home in the summers, and then…"
She drew a breath. "I always wanted to go to art school. But when it came time, my aunt wouldn't let me go. Jesse went to the Air Force after college. I didn’t see him for a few years. The next time he came home, he couldn’t believe that I was still stuck there and I was so sad. I wanted to run away. I didn’t know what I could do. And he comforted me." She dropped her gaze. "Just that one time. It was kindness, nothing else."
