couldn’t help but smile when she saw the uniformed man who stood at attention beside a long black limousine.
“Marcus!” Kat cried. “I haven’t seen you since—”
“I was very sorry about Buenos Aires. It was most unfortunate timing.” He looked at Gabrielle, tipped his hat. “Miss Gabrielle, it’s nice to see you. If you don’t mind, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything,” Gabrielle said.
“Well, I was wondering if I could perhaps drive your cousin back to the city myself.”
“You don’t have to do that, Marcus,” Kat said. “I know it’s probably a difficult time for you.”
“Please,” Marcus said, reaching for the limo’s rear door. “It would be a relief to do something.”
Kat understood. For a girl who was used to adrenaline and fear, there was no feeling in the world she hated more than being helpless, so she asked her cousin, “Gab, you mind?”
“Oh, please.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, then looked at Marcus. “You can have her.”
A second later, her cousin was climbing into her car and driving away without as much as a tire mark to prove she’d been there at all. Uncle Eddie would have been incredibly proud.
“If you will, miss…” Kat turned to see Marcus holding open the limo door. For a second, Kat considered sitting in the front, but Marcus was a man for whom tradition and decorum mattered. And so Kat slid into the backseat without another word.
Sitting on the soft leather, Kat couldn’t help but wonder how many hours she’d spent staring at the back of the valet’s head. He was always there. Never far from Hale’s side. And then Kat knew what had been missing from the big house.
“I didn’t see you inside, Marcus.”
“Yes. I wasn’t able to attend, but I was hoping to see you.”
“You were?”
“Yes,” he said, but didn’t offer anything more.
“Did you know Hale’s grandmother well?”
“I did. She was a great, great woman.”
“Was Hale close to her?”
Marcus nodded. “He was.”
“I didn’t know.” Kat stared out the window. “He never mentioned her to me. Why doesn’t he talk about her?”
“The things that are the most precious to us are sometimes the most secret.”
Kat nodded and considered the thought. Her family was loud and cranky, a force of nature, moving around the globe like a storm. Hale’s family was quiet and fractured, their issues simmering under the surface like a sleeping volcano.
“Marcus,” she said, bolting upright when the car steered off the main road and onto a narrow path. “Marcus, I don’t think this goes to the highway.”
“No, miss. It doesn’t.”
Marcus wasn’t forgetful. He wasn’t the sort of man to make mistakes, and so whatever had brought them to that narrow, winding lane, Kat knew it was absolutely not an error.
“We’re not going to Brooklyn, are we, Marcus?”
“No, miss.” He gripped the wheel and kept on driving. “We aren’t.”
They didn’t go far. By Kat’s estimation they weren’t more than a half a mile from the main road when the car stopped. She could still see the smoke rising from the chimney of the big house hidden behind the trees, and yet it felt a world away from the tiny cottage with the white picket fence and perfectly pruned roses that stood before her. There were black shutters and flower boxes on every window. An ornate railing ran along a cozy porch, and the whole place looked almost like it had been made from gingerbread.
“Marcus, where are we? Who lives here?”
He turned off the car and reached for the door. “I do.”
“I never knew you had a house.”
Kat crawled from the backseat of the car and looked up at the man who held her door. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn he didn’t stand quite as straight, there in his own driveway. He looked at her a little more squarely. He wasn’t a servant then, she realized. He was a man, welcoming her into his home.
“Oh, it’s not entirely mine. I share it
“Marcus!” Kat cried. “I haven’t seen you since—”
“I was very sorry about Buenos Aires. It was most unfortunate timing.” He looked at Gabrielle, tipped his hat. “Miss Gabrielle, it’s nice to see you. If you don’t mind, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything,” Gabrielle said.
“Well, I was wondering if I could perhaps drive your cousin back to the city myself.”
“You don’t have to do that, Marcus,” Kat said. “I know it’s probably a difficult time for you.”
“Please,” Marcus said, reaching for the limo’s rear door. “It would be a relief to do something.”
Kat understood. For a girl who was used to adrenaline and fear, there was no feeling in the world she hated more than being helpless, so she asked her cousin, “Gab, you mind?”
“Oh, please.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes, then looked at Marcus. “You can have her.”
A second later, her cousin was climbing into her car and driving away without as much as a tire mark to prove she’d been there at all. Uncle Eddie would have been incredibly proud.
“If you will, miss…” Kat turned to see Marcus holding open the limo door. For a second, Kat considered sitting in the front, but Marcus was a man for whom tradition and decorum mattered. And so Kat slid into the backseat without another word.
Sitting on the soft leather, Kat couldn’t help but wonder how many hours she’d spent staring at the back of the valet’s head. He was always there. Never far from Hale’s side. And then Kat knew what had been missing from the big house.
“I didn’t see you inside, Marcus.”
“Yes. I wasn’t able to attend, but I was hoping to see you.”
“You were?”
“Yes,” he said, but didn’t offer anything more.
“Did you know Hale’s grandmother well?”
“I did. She was a great, great woman.”
“Was Hale close to her?”
Marcus nodded. “He was.”
“I didn’t know.” Kat stared out the window. “He never mentioned her to me. Why doesn’t he talk about her?”
“The things that are the most precious to us are sometimes the most secret.”
Kat nodded and considered the thought. Her family was loud and cranky, a force of nature, moving around the globe like a storm. Hale’s family was quiet and fractured, their issues simmering under the surface like a sleeping volcano.
“Marcus,” she said, bolting upright when the car steered off the main road and onto a narrow path. “Marcus, I don’t think this goes to the highway.”
“No, miss. It doesn’t.”
Marcus wasn’t forgetful. He wasn’t the sort of man to make mistakes, and so whatever had brought them to that narrow, winding lane, Kat knew it was absolutely not an error.
“We’re not going to Brooklyn, are we, Marcus?”
“No, miss.” He gripped the wheel and kept on driving. “We aren’t.”
They didn’t go far. By Kat’s estimation they weren’t more than a half a mile from the main road when the car stopped. She could still see the smoke rising from the chimney of the big house hidden behind the trees, and yet it felt a world away from the tiny cottage with the white picket fence and perfectly pruned roses that stood before her. There were black shutters and flower boxes on every window. An ornate railing ran along a cozy porch, and the whole place looked almost like it had been made from gingerbread.
“Marcus, where are we? Who lives here?”
He turned off the car and reached for the door. “I do.”
“I never knew you had a house.”
Kat crawled from the backseat of the car and looked up at the man who held her door. Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn he didn’t stand quite as straight, there in his own driveway. He looked at her a little more squarely. He wasn’t a servant then, she realized. He was a man, welcoming her into his home.
“Oh, it’s not entirely mine. I share it
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