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“You mind if I watch a movie?”
I shook my head. “Tear it up. Stella restocked the popcorn before she left town.”
Charlie flashed a wobbly grin. “You take such good care of me.”
“We take good care of each other.” I reached out and took her hand to give it a little squeeze.
She headed for the door of my bedroom, but then she stopped. “I’d never try and change you, you know.”
I frowned. “I know.”
“I think you’re perfect as you are. I know you don’t like going out. I appreciate that you did it anyway. For me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Charlie. You get that, right?”
“I get that,” she murmured. Her eyes were glassy, but I knew it wasn’t from the Prosecco.
“I’ll see you in the morning. For waffles.”
Chapter 2
“Welcome home, Miss Hayden,” Stanton greeted in his crisp English accent.
The aging butler had been with my family for as long as I could remember. My parents had met him on their honeymoon in London. When they returned home to the States, they had Stanton with them—along with me, though they didn’t know my mom was pregnant at the time.
“I’ve missed you, Stanton,” I said as I hugged him.
Despite his aloof exterior, I had no issue showing him affection.
He pulled back and stood straight, his spine showing no signs of age, unlike his lined face. “Your mother and stepfather are in the salon.”
“Cocktail hour?” I asked in amusement.
He inclined his head and closed the door behind me.
I looked around the foyer and my eyes narrowed. “Mom redecorated again?”
“She did.”
I held in a sigh.
Six different reiterations in the last three years. It was as though the moment she finished one redecoration she started all over again.
My heels clacked across the gleaming dark mahogany floors that were original to the house. My mother sat on a cream-colored couch, her spine erect as she sipped a martini, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat chignon. At her ears and throat were the pearls that had belonged to my grandmother.
Marilyn Edith Corbin Spencer Walsh was beautiful, elegant and petite, and she exuded a natural friendliness. She was neither standoffish nor snobby. Her every move indicated she was old money, yet most people seemed to forget that fact after a few minutes in her presence.
I took after my mother in stature, but I hadn’t escaped my father’s genetics. Same dark hair, same brown eyes. It hurt Mom to look at me sometimes.
“Hayden,” she greeted, a warm smile drifting across her face.
“Hi,” I said, meeting her smile with one of my own. I walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. I brushed my cheek against hers and noticed it was still smooth in spite of her age.
When I pulled back, she gently cupped my face and peered at me. “You look tired.”
I rolled my eyes. “I went out with Charlie last night. I’m fine.”
“You went out?” Her brows rose and wrinkled slightly, despite the delicate work she’d had done.
