Page 37 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
“Hope I’m not interrupting your ride,” I say as we watch the retreating form of Hayes get smaller.
“Not at all. I’m glad you’re here.” He bites his lip with all the boyish charm I find hard to ignore. He points to the house. “Parking is on the left. I’ll meet you over there.”
When I pull into the gravel parking area and step out of my car, Hart has parked the dirt bike near a five-car garage and is striding over to me.
I’m wearing a breezy white cotton sundress, camel-colored sandals, and large black sunglasses.
He takes me in with a smile. “I’m glad you came.”
“You said this was asmallvineyard.” I place my hand over my eyes like a visor and look out upon the endless rolling hills of grapevines, which from this distance look like rows of small green trees.
“It is. Thirty acres, give or take.”
I laugh. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Welcome to Napa Valley.” He spreads his arms wide. “Have you been before?”
“A long time ago for a girlfriend’s bachelorette party.”
But we stayed at a small hotel that fit our budget at the time, certainly not at the private home of a billionaire, so I imagine this trip will be quite a bit different from my buzzy girls’ weekend from over a decade ago.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes.” I was so anxious before I left that I couldn’t fathom eating anything.
“Come on, then. You’re just in time for lunch.”
Hart shoulders my leather duffel bag, and I grab my handbag and then follow him along the walkway paved with large pieces of flagstone.
Everything is landscaped beautifully. I can see why his grandparents named this place heaven. There are lush rosebushes, big white hydrangeas, and blooming flowers everywhere I look. A row of crepe myrtles provides privacy between the guesthouse and the main estate.
“This is where we’ll stay.” He points out the guest cottage. “I’ll give you a tour after lunch.”
I suddenly feel a little apprehensive as we approach the house—which appears to be at least an eight-thousand-square-foot mansion. “Is it just you and Hayes here this weekend?”
“It’s me andyouhere this weekend. Hayes decided to tag along. My grandfather wanted me to check on a few things, and Hayes was bored, so ...”
I motion to the row of cars parked behind the garages. “But ... who do all of these belong to?”
He points to each car as he answers. “Hayes. Security. Housekeeping staff. Chef. And ... I don’t know,” he says when he gets to the last car, scratching his temple. “Why? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? Don’t want my family to know you’re here?”
“Did you saychef?” I ask, deflecting.
He chuckles. “Yes ... Carmena. You’ll love her.”
“Also, are we going to just breeze right by the fact that your family has asecurity detail?”
He lifts one shoulder. “You get used to it. Come on.” He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leads me up the steps of the mansion.
The estate is like something out ofArchitectural Digest. Hart gives me the complete tour. There are six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a billiards room, a study with built-in bookcases that resembles a fancy library, and a large sparkling pool in the backyard surrounded by a half-dozen chaise longues. Every room is immaculate, and the art adorning the walls is to die for.
Now we’re seated at the marble kitchen island ready to enjoy a lunch spread that Carmena has set out for us.
I help myself to slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella drizzled with balsamic glaze, and a skewer of grilled shrimp. Hart does the same, loading up his plate.
“Do you want something to drink?” Hart opens the beverage fridge and peers inside.
“Water, please.”
