Page 90 of Dead Serious with Benefits
“Yes, and from everything I’ve gathered, they’re worse than mine,” he said with a grimace.
“More gruesome perhaps,” I corrected gently, taking his hand in mine. “But a cold and lonely childhood is not a pleasant one.”
He opened his mouth to say something and stopped as Matilda’s loud, cheery voice cut through the damp air. “Oh, this place is absolutely lovely! I can’t believe this is where you grew up, Ward.”
Ward’s expression shifted, turning into the warm, gracious man he could be when he was comfortable, or when he had to put on a performance. “It is one of the oldest...homes in the state, and the oldest in Cresson Point. Were it not a private residence, it would have been snatched up as a historical landmark.”
“Well, surely it still counts as one, doesn’t it? My hotel is listed as one even though I own it and run a business out of it,” she said, peering up at the house, her eyes sweeping over every detail with a fascinated hunger that made me smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m happy you think so,” Ward said, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, earning a sharp, reproving look from him.
I shook my head, giving his hand a squeeze to apologize. His reply to her had been so...politician. He obviously couldn’t find it in himself to be as honest about his feelings when it came to his childhood home in the face of her earnest approval and wonder. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either and shifted toward a rather generic statement that had earned a brief, searching look, but her smile never slipped.
I only wanted to laugh more, so I covered my mouth and turned away so neither noticed. She had only spoken with hima few times over the past couple of weeks, but I knew Matilda well enough to know she was not just tough and compassionate, but also perceptive. I assumed it was a skill she had to develop, raising mischievous children like Mason and Milo, and children who were good at concealing their thoughts and feelings like Moira and me.
I was sure she was aware that the relationship between mother and son was not a happy one, and that this home was probably an unhappy place for him. She had never said anything to me, but she wasn’t dim; she had undoubtedly noticed the shifts in his tone when he talked about his family or home. He wasn’t subtle, but he didn’t try all that hard to hide it. Well, that or he was incapable of hiding his true feelings, I had never been able to decide which.
His smile remained fixed as he offered an arm to her. “Shall we? I can give you a brief tour on the way in.”
“I would love that,” she beamed, taking his arm and glancing over her shoulder. “See? A gentleman.”
“You won’t drag him around like you would me,” Marcus said with a fond smile. “Go on, Arlo can be my escort.”
We fell a few feet back, and I spoke softly. “Not that I’ll prove much of an escort. I don’t know this house any better than you two do.”
“Yes, well, it’s better to let her take the lead, so to speak,” he told me with a chuckle. “She’s been ready to burst down the doors to the house ever since you mentioned joining the two of you for dinner.”
“Well, I hope she enjoys herself,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound nervous. As much as I tried to be assuring to Ward, his doubt and worry had infected me to the point that there was a sliver of unease in my chest now. I hoped his mother would find it in herself to be at least decent, if not friendly, but I also knew better than to expect miracles. Perhaps it was unfair to hold herone conversation with me against her, but even I had to admit it had been a rather offensive and memorable conversation. “And you too.”
“I can tell you’re nervous,” Marcus said lightly as Matilda chattered away as we went through the front doors, making her chatter stop as she cooed.
Not that I blamed her. The marble floor gleamed as if it had been polished an hour before. A wide set of stairs rose to a landing before splitting off to the left and right, each lined by a beautiful iron railing, topped with a gleaming wooden banister, and more shining marble at the center of each piece of railing. To the immediate left and right were alcoves, one with a piano that probably cost more than a few years’ salary, and one with a small sitting area next to the window that looked out on the drive.
“Oh my,” Matilda said as she walked in, reaching for one of the banisters and drawing her hand back. “This is...absolutely gorgeous.”
“My father has made several changes since I was a child. He’s a big believer in keeping up with the times and has had quite a lot updated. Once, it had much more wood and none of the marble you can see, and the art was very...I suppose the best way to put it would be medieval.”
“I bet it just glowed in here,” she said fondly, peering up at the large chandelier overhead, made of gold and crystal, spreading its arms in every direction like a flowering vine. “But this is just plain gorgeous, absolutely divine.”
A clack of heels overhead brought our attention to where Amelia stood, her auburn hair flowing down her back and flipped lightly over her shoulders atop an unadorned dress of deep blue. There was a smile on her face that wasn’t quite convincing, but there was none of the coldness she reserved for talking to me. “My husband would love to hear your assessment of his decorative skills. He delights in showing off what he’sdone, though I warn you to be careful, get him talking, and he might never stop.”
Marcus chuckled. “Then he will find a desperately attentive audience with her, though he might have to fight to speak with all the questions.”
“You stop it,” Matilda chided over her shoulder, though there was no ire or frustration in her voice, just fondness and a slight hint of ‘behave’ for good measure. “I wouldloveto hear about the work he’s done here. He’s put a lot of time, effort, and work into everything.”
“And a team of people to help him make choices,” Amelia said in what was probably supposed to be a lighthearted joke. The problem was that, like Ward had said about me, she tended to say things like they were criticisms. Except, unlike me, I had a feeling that every implied criticism was meant to be taken to heart. “You’ll have to forgive his absence. He had a late nap and didn’t wake in time to be ready to greet everyone, so I will have to do for now.”
“Well, thank you for having us,” Matilda said brightly. “Your dress is phenomenal, and your lovely hair goes perfectly with it.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said as she descended the stairs at an unhurried pace. “I was a little surprised when Warden mentioned he was bringing Arlo’s parents, but I do love having people in my home.”
“Hospitality for guests remains one of my mother’s favorite activities,” Ward said, and I was glad that I was naturally predisposed to hiding my thoughts and feelings. His tone was far more believable in its affection and warmth than Amelia had ever been in my presence, but I could sense the teeth in the words. I wasn’t the only one, because Amelia’s eyes flashed to her son as she reached the bottom of the stairs, but her polite smile never wavered.
“It’s not my strong suit, but the only way to get better at something is to try,” Amelia said. “Now, dinner is nearly ready, but allow me to take you to the dining room where we can start with some drinks and a few small bites.”
“I would love that,” Matilda said warmly and turned to reach for Marcus, who stepped forward to take her arm. “I’m sorry, Ward. You are a gentleman, but a woman needs her man by her side.”
“You won’t hear me say a word against it,” Ward said, falling back to stand by me instead.
