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His head cocked. “Even the good-looks part?”
“Especially that part.”
Beau put his hand on the back of my neck, leaned forward, and kissed me. “What’s on your mind, my love?”
I kissed him back. “Everything. Telling Alex made this inheritance more real, somehow. Given I was already overwhelmed and still concerned this is all a mistake, the pit in my stomach has grown into a rock.”
He took both my hands in his. “I will not allow this to harm you. If at any point I fear it will, I’ll step in, Samantha.”
“Meaning what?”
“There are a number of solutions, should this turn ugly, starting with buying the place myself to get you out from under it.”
“What would that solve? And why would you if, as you said, it turned ugly?”
“As I said, there are a number of solutions. That is but one.”
I folded my arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Rather than doing so, let me tell you what I learned while you were in the loo.”
“About Cena?” I hoped it was. I was certain the sooner I knew how the two of us were connected, the smaller the rock would get.
“Indirectly. According to Norman over there—who bought this round of beer, by the way—there is a fascinating history related to the Lilacs and the Covert family.”
“What?”
“To begin, while we don’t yet know the exact value of the investment portfolio about to become yours, my prediction is it will be worth far more than either you or I anticipated.”
This wasn’t helping. In fact, it was making it worse. “What does that have to do with history?” I snapped.
“This is good news, Sam.”
I bristled, mainly because I knew he was right. That he was, did nothing to placate me.
“The Lilacs was originally built as a summer retreat for the Covert family.”
I shook my head and laughed, but not because I found it funny. “What did their main residence look like?”
“Also according to Norman, their home in the city was over fifty thousand square feet.”
“You’re not serious.” My apartment wasn’t even five hundred.
“More about that later. The Lilacs originally housed the family’s horse-breeding operation. Then they raised horses for transportation, à la horse and buggies. When automobiles cut into that market, they switched their focus to polo ponies as well as racehorses.”
“Does that mean there are more horses than those we’ve seen?”
Beau shook his head. “In the late fifties, the family began converting the land dedicated to the breeding operation to vineyards.” He looked over at me. “The significance of that particular time in history is?”
I smirked. “Vitis vinifera vines grafted with North American rootstock were refined, resulting in previously unheard of pest- and disease-resistant hybrids.”
He smiled. “Precisely. Manley, it seems, had an exceptional mind for business.”
“Or Cena did.”
“Touché,” he said, beaming at me more than smiling. “I believe you’re onto something. According to what I’ve read, it was Cena who suggested Manley sell the city property to the Roman Catholic Diocese—probably the only entity able to afford such a purchase.”
“Read? I wasn’t in the restroom that long, Beau.”
