He’d mumbled that only dictators were as unbendable as she was. She took that as a compliment.
She opened the door and went inside. The living room, where she and Elise had sat with a shirtless Ray, was her waiting room, and where she met with groups of people. She had clients who drove in from Charlottesville and Richmond to attend Saturday-afternoon sessions that sometimes lasted for hours.
The downstairs bedroom was where she sat with individual clients. Unfortunately, in the closet was a four-foot-tall stack of boxes of tissues.
She went upstairs. Just hours ago, these two bedrooms had been where she and Elise stayed, where Elise had closed the windows in fear of being found out. Now that room was Olivia’s office. Bookshelves, her desk, and filing cabinets filled it. She knew that to refresh her memory she would go through every folder, listen to tapes, and review the videos. Her clients deserved that.
The room where Livie had stayed was still a bedroom. When Kit was away, she often slept there, surrounded by files and tapes. A few times, women had used the room, hiding from some horror that had happened in their lives.
She went back downstairs and out to the back. The little walled-in area was now a garden and she knew that in the summer she often held group sessions there.
Leaving her office, she walked across the lawn, past the huge expanse of manicured grass in front of Camden Hall. This morning, when she and Kathy and Elise had run off in the car to some woman they were sure was a charlatan, the big house had been empty. No one had lived in it for years.
In 1970, Olivia had only spoken to Kit of the house once. His reaction, like she was after him for his family’s money, had upset her so much that she’d not mentioned it again.
But Kit had remembered. The night before their tiny wedding, he’d slipped into her bedroom at Tattwell and handed her an old shoe box. He hadn’t said anything, just let his dancing eyes speak for him.
She assumed it was a gag gift, something silly to make her laugh. Inside were some wadded-up scraps of fabric that had been used to make animals for the kids. In the middle was a big steel ring with half a dozen keys on it.
“What’s this?” she asked. “If these are the keys to your heart, they’re too small.”
He kissed her for that, then stretched out beside her, took the ring, and held up a big, rusty key. “This is to the gate, although I’ve been told it’s never locked.” He began to flip through the keys. “This is to Diana’s Cottage, Camden Hall, River House, and—” He broke off because Olivia was staring at him. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Dad had a hard time getting the place. It’s been empty all these years because the family couldn’t agree on which one of them owned it. They settled it by no one being allowed to do anything b
ut pay for the upkeep. Dad had to get a friend of his to go to Burma to get one of the owners to sign the deed.” He looked at her. “Please tell me you didn’t change your mind.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“Tell Dad he’s the best there is and that you’ll name a kid after him and he’ll be happy forever.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tulloch,” Kit said.
Olivia put the keys in the box, the lid on, and handed it back to him. “It’s not worth it.”
He laughed. “It’s a good Scottish name, but using it in the middle will be fine.
“Christopher Tulloch Montgomery the Second might work.”
When she groaned, he kissed her. They would have made love but Ace opened the door. Behind him was a sleepy Letty. As always, they’d thought she was home with her parents. All day the children had been quiet. They were worried about the wedding, afraid Olivia was going to leave them.
“Kit is going away but I’m staying right here,” Olivia told them again.
“You’re going to New York,” Letty said. They were standing at the foot of the bed.
“No, I’m not.” Olivia opened her arms to them and they crawled up to her, Ace on one side, Letty on the other, Kit on the end.
“I vote for a story,” Kit said.
“With dragons,” Letty said.
“And knights,” Ace said.
“I guess I could tell you some about Khaleesi and her baby dragons.” All three of them snuggled against her.
“Sorry, George,” Olivia whispered to the author, then began. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful young woman who was to marry a huge and terrifically gorgeous young man who wore black around his eyes but very little clothing. And he rode an enormous black stallion and was the ruler of a fierce tribe of more beautiful men and—”
Kit lifted his head to look at her, but Olivia just smiled and went on with the story.