The smile on his brother’s face grew, and he winked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Chapter 2
When Trevor, the butler who lived on the grounds of Cliff House year round, walked in the kitchen and saw Warren, his eyes got large—the most expression Warren had ever seen on the guy’s face, a remarkable feat considering Trevor had worked at Cliff House for ten years. Despite his obvious surprise, Trevor did not question Warren’s sudden appearance. Instead the butler promised to inform his wife Marsha, who worked as head housekeeper, that Warren was in residence.
“It should not take Marsha long to prepare your rooms, Mr. Sherbrooke. Do you want me to contact Henri?” Trevor asked, referring to the chef who ruled; because to say he was in charge of the kitchen didn’t explain the way Henri ran the Cliff House kitchen.
“I’ll take care of my own meals, but please let Henri know I need him to prepare a special dinner on Sunday.” Had he imagined it or had Trevor’s mouth almost dropped open?
“For how many, sir?”
“Two.”
This time there was no mistaking the raised eyebrows on the always prim and proper butler, and Warren bit back a laugh. Who would’ve guessed Trevor had emotions? He and his brother and cousins often joked that the guy was a robot.
“Is there anything special you would like served, or do you want to leave the menu up to Henri?”
Good question and one he’d not thought about. If he left it up to Henri, they’d be eating a gorgeous meal that more than likely consisted of some type of red meat or seafood. The Frenchman insisted on dishes with red meat and seafood. If you wanted something else on your plate, you had to let him know. During the summer his grandmother or his mother went over the weekly menus with the chef for that very reason.
“He has free rein, just tell him to stay away from scallops and lamb.” He knew for a fact that Ruth was allergic to scallops, and he despised lamb. “And make sure the dessert contains chocolate.” With his directions issued, Warren headed upstairs.
White sheets covered all the furniture in his suite. Normally if a family member planned to stay during the winter they called and let Trevor and his wife know weeks in advance so the rooms could be prepared and the necessary staff called in. He hadn’t been able to do that this trip. He’d only made up his mind yesterday. Prior to that, he’d flip-flopped back and forth. Something he’d been doing since August.
Warren dropped his suitcase on the floor, the sound muffled by the thick area rug covering the hardwood. Then he yanked off the white sheet that covered the tall chest of drawers opposite his bed, letting it fall to the floor. Later Marsha could uncover the rest of the furniture. For now he needed a few drawers for his clothes. As he unpacked, he thought back to that August day. Now, like on countless other occasions, a gambit of emotions flooded him. Embarrassment, appreciation, and love.
The first one didn’t surprise him. No man wanted to be seen crying. Yet, that morning he hadn’t been able to keep the tears locked away as he waited for word on his grandmother. Appreciation, he understood that, too. Ruth had sat with him for hours, listening and offering support, as he shared things he’d never told anyone else. But love, that was the one that blew his mind away.
He’d known Ruth forever, and never in all that time had he looked at her as anything but a friend. When they parted that morning, though, he hadn’t watched a friend walk away. He’d watched someone he loved walk away.
For weeks afterward, he’d told himself he’d imagined it. That it had been the stress of the moment. That while Ruth was a friend; they’d never be anything more than that. When he fell in love it would be with someone like his brother’s girlfriend, Donna. Someone from a well-connected family who understood what it was like to live and breathe in his world.
To prove it to himself, he’d asked Beatrice Long out after meeting her at the Harbor Club, a private yachting club in Boston. The heiress to a Texas oil company, she was the perfect woman for him. Soon one date had turned into another, then that October she’d accompanied him to Newport for the Annual Harvest Festival. His family had loved her. Even his grandmother, who was very particular, had approved.
Despite their similar backgrounds and mutual friends, he’d felt no spark. He wasn’t naïve enough to think love was a requirement for marriage. Plenty of his friends’ parents existed in loveless marriages; marriages formed for business and political reasons. Heck even his Uncle Gary, his father’s youngest brother did. But that wasn’t the type of existence he wanted. Someday he wanted what his parents had. So despite his family’s protests, he’d ended things with Beatrice around Thanksgiving.
Soon his resolve to keep things platonic with Ruth wavered. Once again he wondered if maybe she felt the same way. When he called her to see if they could get together and talk in December, she’d been upset because the guy she’d been dating for two months had broken things off.
Some guys would’ve seen a woman on the rebound and jumped in to fill not only the void but her bed. He couldn’t do that to Ruth. So instead, he’d never mentioned them getting together. However, she’d invited him to the New Year’s Eve party she and her friend Helen had planned. Unable to say no, he’d told her he’d try to stop by, not sure he would or even if he should. In the end, he’d been unable to stay away.
He hadn’t seen or talked to her since that party.
Warren placed the last of his clothes in the drawers, hung his suit in the closet, and headed out. If he was going to lay it all out there on Sunday, he wanted everything perfect, which meant a stop at Hammonds Florist on Dubois Street, the best florist in the area and a stop at Crystal Jewelers. After that, he’d see if Ruth was home. She’d mentioned at the party that she’d switched shifts at the hospital, so there was a good chance she’d be home tonight.
***
Settled on the couch surrounded by Helen’s moving boxes, Ruth waited for Little House On The Prairie , her favorite television show, to start. Helen had gone over to her mom’s again to finish the wedding favors they’d worked on the night before, leaving Ruth alone with her turkey sandwich and homemade tomato soup. In her opinion, it wasn’t the worst way to spend a Thursday night.
As the opening theme song started and the show’s leading man appeared, she got up and turned up the volume. Before she could sit back down and get comfortable, the doorbell rang. Her immediate reaction was to pull the door open. Only friends and family came to visit her. At the last second, Ruth remembered to look through the peephole her older brother, Dan, had installed the previous spring, following a series of break-ins in the area. When she did, the stupid organ in her chest flipped.
They hadn’t spoken since New Year’s Eve after the brief kiss they’d shared in the kitchen when the clock struck midnight and they’d been the only people in the room. What was he doing here now? Shouldn’t he be in Boston? Spring break wasn’t for another few weeks, and she hadn’t heard of any big society events happening.
Maybe he came down to see me. The thought sent her heart spinning. Get real, the logical part of her brain countered, her heart plummeting downward like a yo-yo out of control. He probably needs someone to talk to. Maybe his grandmother is sick again.
Regardless of the reason, she had to open the door. She couldn’t leave him standing outside in the cold, so she pulled open the door. “Warren, hi.”
The smile he used with his friends, rather than the one he used in media pictures, spread across his face, and Ruth had trouble getting words to form. “Come on in. It’s freezing out there.”
“I won’t argue with you on that one.” He stepped inside, wiping his shoes on the welcome rug. “But at least it’s not snowing anymore.”