“You okay? You seem a little tense.” Total understatement. Moira seems so brittle, I’m afraid she might shatter right in front of me.
She nods her head once. “I just don’t want them to break anything.”
“Trust me. We are not the rowdiest people to get in the back of this car.”
“You sure?”
“Two words: bachelor party.”
Wrinkling up her nose, Moira says, “Now I’m going to have to bleach them when we get to your place.”
I chuckle. “How about we let them jump in the pool? Let the chlorine disinfect them, then they can shower before supper.”
“They can burn off some energy, too.” She turns her gaze out the window and starts chewing on her bottom lip.
“A penny for your thoughts,” I tell her.
She turns to me. “I was just thinking how LA couldn’t be more different than Gamble. It’s like we’re not even on the same planet.”
Nodding, I say, “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Moira shifts her gaze back to the window.
Then an idea hits me. They’re not used to having a housekeeper, so I think it’ll be better if I ease them into the SoCal lifestyle. I pull out my phone and text Sandra.
Me:I’ll be arriving in about twenty minutes with my guests. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?
Sandra:You don’t have to ask me twice. Supper is in the fridge. I’ll put heating instructions on it and then see you in the morning.
When the driver pulls off the freeway and makes his way along street after street of mansions, the energy inside the car crackles. “Holy cow!” Wyatt whistles. “How richareyou?”
By the time the car pulls through the gates, the boys are clamoring to get out and start exploring. I take Moira’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get your vacation started.”
Chapter31
Moira
Holy hell, Ethan’s house looks like something straight out of a nighttime soap opera. Its modern design hosts a ton of windows that start at the ground floor and go straight up to the second-floor roof line. There are palm trees, fruit trees, and tropical-looking plants all over the place. It feels more like we’ve been dropped off at a luxury hotel than someone’s private residence. Embarrassment over my own living situation hits me. Ethan must think I live in squalor.
“Come on, crew,” Ethan shouts. “Grab your bags and I’ll show you where your bedrooms are.”
My boys turn into a pack of wild wolves running, jumping, and shouting in excitement. Meanwhile, I feel totally paralyzed. Ethan gets out of the limo before me and reaches in to take my hand. “Let’s go, milady. I want to show you my home.”
My sixty-year-old, run-down farmhouse is a home. This is a spectacular display of wealth, the disparity of which I’m not sure we can overcome. Ethan practically pulls me out of the car.
After he unlocks the front door, we wait while he walks in and goes straight to a keypad on the wall. There he punches in a series of numbers before we hear a loud beep. Of course, he has a security system with a place like this.
The living room is enormous with a vaulted ceiling as high as the two-story roof line. It’s decorated with modern black and gray furniture, sleek chrome tables full of actual sculptures and giant coffee table books that probably take two people to lift. Believe me when I say that his supremely tasteful belongings make my collection of ceramic cows look ridiculous. The only pops of color come from the artwork hanging on the walls, which is probably worth more than my house and diner combined.
Ethan leads the way to an architectural steel staircase and starts to climb. “Come on, boys, your rooms are up here with mine. Your mom gets the guest suite downstairs that overlooks the rose garden.”
“Do we each have our own rooms?” Wyatt wants to know.
“I was thinking the twins could share and you could have your own room. How does that sound?”
“I’d sleep outside in a doghouse if I had to. I mean, I bet your dog lives better than most people,” Ash says.
“I don’t have a dog,” Ethan tells them. “I’d really like to get one someday, but I’m not home enough to really enjoy one.”