“I saw pictures.”
“A picture isn’t the same as seeing it in person.”
He slammed his tablet down. “Rosie—”
“Don’t start that now. Look out the window.”
The car pulled to a stop, and Rosabel exited like a kid on Christmas, eager to take in as much of this place as she could. She inhaled the crisp mountain air, stunned by the complete layout. The cabin’s roof was just as corrugated as the road to it had been, its gables stacked and angled in alternating but attractive directions, giving the impression of its size.
Stones covered the base level of the log colossus, and exposed logs built up from the wraparound porch served as a skirt around the cabin-mansion’s midsection. Two large wooden garage doors set off by sconces on either side served as a base layer, holding up a balcony above which then led to the impeccable front door. A skipping of pavestone circles created a path, branching from the main sidewalk leading to the steps.
“Look at this place,” she said, her breath momentarily stolen by the inspiring sight.
“Now I bet you’re glad you came.” Duncan stood beside her. Attention free from technology, he admired the gigantic home along with her.
“That remains to be seen.” Her guard was back up. Rosabel wasn’t sure what bothered her, but she suspected her irritation had something to do with his entitled attitude. Here Duncan had this incredible home, and he wielded the edifice like a badge, like something to lord over others and prove his manhood or something. And he’d criticized the 1800s for their version of social inequality.
Rosabel refused to let that attitude hold any kind of sway, and she took her admiring gaze away from the beauty around her. Darn him for ruining what could have been an amazing moment otherwise. She retrieved her bag from the driver. He was in his mid-fifties, she would guess, with hair graying at this temples and kindness in his eyes. “Clive, thank you for the music and for such astute navigation on such snaky roads.”
He chuckled. “Thank you for giving me an excuse to listen to the Fab Four.”
Rosabel beamed at him and then led the way up the wooden stairs to the second level where the main door lay. Not far behind, Duncan skipped up, unlocked the door, and let her in.
Rosabel lingered in the entryway and allowed her gaze to roam, from the vaulted, towering ceiling with rich, exposed wood beams marking every new angle, to the granite adorning the counters and the seat of the hearth before a thirty-foot-high brick chimney above the pleasant fireplace. Cozy couches left the living area perfectly staged. A blanket strung across the back of the cushy armchair invited Rosabel to curl on its cushions with a good book and stay for a while.
She shouldn’t be so surprised. Though she hadn’t been the one to hire the decorating service and oversee the setup, with Duncan’s high taste he would make sure it was staged to the max.
Hands on his hips, Duncan gave the room his inspection. He wasn’t frowning, so that said something. The least he could do was look happy. “Well, well, well. Not bad, Miss Smith. Not bad at all. Want to pick your room?”
Rosabel stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Sure,” he said. “Take a look and pick the one you want. I’ll go find mine.” Leaving his bag on the entryway tile, he sauntered toward what Rosabel suspected to be the kitchen hidden behind a bearing wall decorated with a large picture of a beautiful, scenic landscape. Rather than follow him, she did as he suggested and made her way toward the stairway’s thickset wooden railing.
Her feet sank onto soft carpet that didn’t quite reach each stair’s edges. She ran her hand along the smooth wood, enjoying the view of the living area from bird’s eye rather than straight on. With its neutral paint on the walls, the gray carpet, the quality leather couches, and tasteful floral arrangements situated at just the right positions, everything was honed. She reached the landing, stopping at each room and enjoying the comfortable sights, but the moment she reached the last room on the left, her breath caught.
Through the window opposite the bed, the sun was a spotlight on Beaver Lake, which was fringed with trees of every height. Shades of green offset the crystal-blue water. Other substantial homes were visible across the lake’s breadth, marked with docks and boat launches.
“This is the one,” she said to no one but herself, breaking deeper into the room and placing her bag on the bed’s gray comforter as though staking her claim.
A raised voice caught her attention below, wafting down the hall and breaking through her reverie. She closed her eyes. “That’s right. I nearly forgot who I came here with.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Duncan’s voice carried. “There’s no way I can make the trip back there by tomorrow. We just got here—the drive took an hour just to get to the lake house.” Duncan paused, listening to whoever was on the other end. “I told you I’d dive in that at price, but if you can’t make your end, then I’m not going to take the risk.” Another pause. “You know what? I’m off duty now. This is my vacation. I can’t believe you can’t make this work.”
Duncan ended the call before starting another one. His tone changed infinitely in an instant. “Mother. Hi, yes, we made it. Today?” He paused. “Rosabel needs some time to settle in. I—okay. If you think it’s best.”
Rosabel was taken aback. She half expected him to snap at her as well, but this was his mom, and not only that, but he’d added Rosabel into his concerns. Something told her he wasn’t using her as a cop-out—he’d sounded genuine. Probably trying to keep his word about not having to see his family until his grandma’s party.
Confusion knotted her stomach. Something bothered him, but she couldn’t put her finger on the problem. The possibilities rattled off inside her head, but none quite fit. A vacation? A mountain retreat? In all the time she’d worked for him, he hadn’t even taken weekends off. She wondered what made him do so now. He could have just come for the party, stayed in a hotel, and then flown back to Vermont when this was over.
Why had he come all the way here? The reason had to be a big deal, considering the way he’d refused to conduct business on the phone minutes before. He’d also mentioned something about his grandmother not speaking to him. She wondered what had happened between them to put him on edge.
Rosabel tiptoed back down the stairs to where he stood beside one of the leather couches. Phone lowered, he stared at the floor as if lost in thought.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Looks like we’re expected at my parents’ place.”
“We? As in both of us?”
“Yes, you’re included in the invitation. Might as well get it over with.”
“Get what over with?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he was halfway to the door, texting someone as he went. She assumed the recipient was Clive, who must have gone to his room as well.
Rosabel was tempted to dig in her heels, but in spite of herself, pity seeped through the cracks in her armor, along with a slight suspicion. Here they were in this colossal house. If it wasn’t for her, he’d be completely alone, facing his family the same way.
Was Duncan lonely? Was that what made him snap like a turtle at everyone who tried getting close to him?