“What was your favorite part of the tour?”
“The Tiffany, nine-panel, stained glass window,” she said. “There’s something so beautiful about the way the light shines through—it sort of swept me away. I felt like I was very much a part of something greater when I stood there amidst the glistening colors.”
“I understand completely,” he said. “It’s truly a work of art when something touches your very soul like that.”
“It did.”
“Remind me to show you a series of paintings I did that were inspired by it. That window itself is like a changing canvas. It’s beautiful every day, but every day differently depending on time and season. Sort of like our lives.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“Then you will,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
“Very.”
“I know the perfect place.” He steered her toward the gardens at the edge of the mansion to take her to his favorite spot.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Whitney let Matthew lead her down the path to the gardens.
“I want to show you one of my favorite places on the grounds. Even when it was hot and muggy, I could sit or play for hours under this tree until my father finished for the day.”
They walked quietly. “Back, then,” he said, “this seemed like the biggest tree in the universe. I’ve grown a little since that first visit. It’s not quite as impressive as my memories, but this is a really special spot to me.” He reached for her hand.
She pressed her fingers into his palm as they stepped off the path.
“This way.” He stooped to clear the huge sagging limbs of the tree.
Whitney was in awe of the massive tree, spreading her arms as wide as she could hug and it didn’t compare. “This tree is so big around, how many rings do you think there’d be if it were chopped down? It’s got to be old.”
“I bet one of the arborists on staff could tell us.” He dropped the canvas picnic bag from his shoulder and pulled a thin sheet from the side pocket.
She helped him spread it out on the ground.
“Are you sure we’re not going to get into trouble?” She looked around nervously as he began to unpack the contents. They were a little concealed, but not completely, and it seemed a bit like trespassing to her. “Can we just camp out right here in the middle of the garden?”
“Sure. Sit.” He patted the grass next to him.
She sat and lifted her hair from her neck. “It’s got to be ten degrees cooler in the shade. Feels good under here.”
He took a bottle of sparkling apple cider from the basket and handed her two short, plastic, crystal-cut cups.
“That’s the cider you were telling me about?” A gentle breeze swept between them.
“It is.” Matthew reached for the bottle, but as soon as he began to remove the cap, it unexpectedly flew off, sending a stream of sparkling cider into the air and splattering Whitney and their lunch.
Matthew sat there in shock. “That never happens! I’m sorry.”
Whitney sat wide-eyed, her hands in the air and mouth agape.
He couldn’t believe it. It was a sticky, fizzy mess.
Then Whitney started laughing and lifting the cups. “Is there any left?”
“Not much.” He tipped the bottle, managing to split a respectable bit of it anyway.
