I shove the panties into the nightstand drawer and take a cold shower, then put on dark jeans and a dark cashmere sweater. After checking the time, I walk out of my room, only pausing momentarily when I pass by Mercedes’s room. I’m surprised it’s quiet.
The house is lit by warm, golden light. I descend the stairs, and as I pass the windows in the foyer overlooking the main drive, I’m reminded of the beauty of this place. The oaks standing grand, the wide drive seeming to go on for miles.
I walk into the kitchen, and from one corner, my four beasts raise their heads from their lazy slumber and, excited, come to greet me. I smile. The sight of them is one of the few things that makes me smile these days.
“Boys. I hope you haven’t been giving Lois too hard a time,” I say, looking up at the housekeeper from my crouched position. Lois has been with my family for as long as I can remember, and she’s too old to chase after four very energetic Dobermans.
“They’ve been fine,” Lois says, coming over from the sink to pet Pestilence. “This one, though. Stealing food from the counter again.”
“I thought Famine would do that,” I say, petting Pestilence’s face, then taking it in my hands. “Don’t make me put you outside.”
He whines as if he understands and gives Lois puppy eyes.
She smiles, shaking her head. “Thinks he can get away with anything with those eyes.”
“He can with you,” I say, straightening. “Thanks for taking care of them while Paolo is out.” Paolo trains and exercises the dogs, but he’s been out sick for a few days.
“No problem, Judge. You know I don’t mind. Dinner is almost ready.”
I nod. “When my mother arrives, get her a drink. I need to make a call before I join her.”
“What about the dogs? You know how she feels about them.”
I glance at the four of them. Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. Dramatic, I know. My brother named them. They’re five years old now. Pestilence is licking the last of the food remaining in all four bowls while the other three play with a toy.
“Leave them.”
Lois raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“She has to get used to them, and quite frankly, she invited herself, so I’m not inclined to make accommodations for her.”
“And Ms. De La Rosa… I set a place for the three of you in the dining room.”
“Ms. De La Rosa will be dining in her room. Miriam has already taken a tray up. You don’t need to worry about her.”
Lois studies me. “Miriam?”
“Is there a problem with Miriam?”
“It’s just they didn’t quite get along last time Ms. De La Rosa was our guest.”
“Hm. I guess they too will have to get used to each other.” I can just about picture how that’s going.
Lois doesn’t like Miriam, but not many of the staff seem to. I get it. And part of me wonders if I should have left her upstairs with Mercedes. If I should have done what I did because Mercedes’s pride will be wounded. But then I remember the ruined suit. A little humility may be good for her. I have no doubt she’ll survive.
Besides, other things are more important. Like where those scars came from.
I leave the kitchen and go to my study. This room has become my dark sanctuary with mahogany wood paneling, a black marble fireplace, and heavy, antique furnishings that date back over a hundred years. The smell of cigar smoke still clings to the walls from the time my grandfather, Carlisle Montgomery, used to occupy this space. I stop to take in the portrait of him. He’s alone in this one. In the living room is another with my grandfather, grandmother and my father painted when he was fifteen years old. He looks like me, my grandfather. Or I look like him. Exactly like him.
Shifting my gaze, I put the thought out of my head. I am not my grandfather.
I walk around the large desk, glancing out of the windows into the garden. Warm lights showcase the large swimming pool, the curving patio with its three separate seating areas, and pots and pots of flowering plants. Beyond it, a path curves toward the stables that house my horses. Past those stables, and not visible from the house, are the cottages once used by staff. Some still are, and some are empty. My mother lives in one. She moved out of the main house after my father’s death.
I sit down in the worn leather chair and lean back. It’s been six months since my grandfather’s death, but it’s still sometimes hard to grasp that he’s gone. That the house, its contents, the stables, the horses, and the grounds are all mine.
Theron’s dark eyes meet mine from the framed photo on the edge of the desk. Theron is my younger brother. He’s been gone for years. Left the night of his twenty-fifth birthday. He’ll be back soon enough, though, now that grandfather is gone. He has to return. I cut off his allowance, so he’ll show his face. And then we can have our reckoning.
But now isn’t the time to think of them.