“No,” Van’s baritone timbre declared. “They’ll see you for the strong and independent woman who kicked a weaselly cheat to the curb.”
“And landed a better fiancé?”
Van laughed. “You did, but that’s because of the strong beauty you are.”
Taking a deep breath, I let Van lead me toward the opulent glass doors. It was difficult to believe I’d been in this house two weeks earlier. If I were testifying under oath, I don’t think that I could articulate the immenseness of the changes in my life over that short period of time.
Not being able to give them words was different than not recognizing them. As the doors opened, I felt the change within me. For once, I didn’t have the sense of the little girl who grew up within these walls. The field was the same, but from deep within my soul, I knew I was different.
Smiling at the man at my side, I also knew he was the catalyst for that change.
My parents’ butler, Arnold, greeted each guest at the door. “Ms. McGrath,” he said with a nod as we stepped through the threshold. “Welcome home. It’s very good to see you.”
“Thank you, Arnold.” I tilted my head to my side. “Arnold, this is my fiancé, Donovan Sherman.”
Van offered him his hand.
For a split second, Arnold hesitated before offering his hand in return.
As they shook, Van said, “Very nice to meet you, Arnold.”
A genuine smile came to the older man’s face. “And you also, Mr. Sherman. Welcome.”
Two stories above, a glistening chandelier sent prisms of light to the marble floor below, mixing with the reflections of the lights from the tall and slender Christmas tree. All the guests for as far as the eye could see were dressed for the occasion, long and short dresses in festive colors and men in suits and tuxedos.
Holiday music flowed through the air from the conservatory on the right.
I knew from experience that the music wasn’t piped through an invisible sound system. That wouldn’t do for my mother. If this was similar to years past, I suspected that the grand piano was currently being played in conjunction with the rest of a quartet, historically, consisting of a string bass or cello, a violin, and a harp.
Forcing smiles and nods, I acknowledged the stares and greetings coming my way.
“You made Arnold’s night,” I whispered.
By Van’s smirk, I was most certain he knew what I meant. No other guest would offer their hand in greeting to the help. It was the way it was, without question. Then again, Van didn’t employ help, not in the traditional sense of the word, even calling himself a minimalist in that category.
If he were a minimalist, my mother was the opposite—pretentious.
Van’s deep tenor cut through the background noise. “I save my smugness for negotiations and boardrooms. How long has Arnold worked for your family?”
“Since I was young.”
“And in pigtails?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
“And has he done his job?”
“Exceedingly well.”
“Then by all means, the man has earned a simple handshake.”
Our conversation stopped as a young man in a tuxedo approached with a tray of crystal flutes filled with champagne. I didn’t recognize him, which meant that he was one of the catering team. It also meant that he didn’t know me any more than he knew any other guest.
After taking our drinks, I led Van toward the back terrace. Despite the winter weather, there would be a large canopy with sides and dozens of tall propane heaters to give the illusion of warmth. It was also the location of the queen of the manor.
I continued my smiles and nods and saying hellos as we worked our way through the crowd.
Van leaned closer, his whisper near my ear. “You introduced me to Arnold, but not to any other guests.”