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30
I’m in the middle of putting on my jeans when someone knocks.
Thinking it’s Reid, my heart leaps.
I hurry to open the door. The flirty expression drops instantly when I realize it isn’t Reid.
Aunt Helena gives me a soft smile. “It’s a lovely day. Let’s spend it together.” I take in her capri pants, dressy blouse, and low heels—hair in loose waves.
“Oh, okay.”
“We’ll have breakfast in town and go by the company.”
“Is Reid coming?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He’s had you all to himself. It’s my turn. Consider it a girls-only day. Besides, I enjoy learning about you, Cassie. You’re an extraordinary young lady.”
“Thanks, Aunt Helena.” Hearing her use my nickname more warms my heart. It feels like things have become more relaxed between us. I’m sure that would fizzle if she learned the truth about Reid and me.
“Well, come on then.”
As she heads for the stairs, I turn back into the room to put on my shoes and grab my phone.
When I step outside the house, my jaw drops to find Aunt Helena sitting in the driver’s side of the blue BMW that hasn’t left the garage in the weeks I’ve been here.
She chuckles at my reaction. “Don’t look so surprised, Cassie. I do drive myself at times.”
“Oh, sorry.” I hurry into the passenger side and buckle up.
“Don’t worry. I’m a great driver.” She fixes her sunglasses and peels off the estate.
It’d be a lie to say I didn’t utter a silent prayer on the road and thank the heavens when we reached town safely.
Aunt Helena slows down at a café, and we sit outside and talk over breakfast.
She seems genuinely interested in my life. The more we share, the more I understand her personality and admire her accomplishments.
Wrapping up, we take off for the short drive to Southport. My view is graced with an expanse of greenery and luxurious houses until Aunt Helena pulls up at the gate to the Radcliff textile company, and the security hurries to let her inside.
I stare at the array of concrete buildings as she continues onto the massive property. I never came here when I was younger. So it’s cool to see it for the first time.
Aunt Helena parks and we file out of the car. I stare at the place with intrigue.
“This way,” she tells me.
I follow her into the building, asking, “There’s work on Sundays?”
“Several people take on the extra shift.”
The lobby seems damn near endless until we reach a corner, and I trail Aunt Helena to a set of doors, following her inside when she opens one.
My eyes widen at the massive manufacturing area and all the machines and products.
It’s both impressive and noisy. I can’t believe more employees fill the area during the week.
“This is my father’s dream,” Aunt Helena says, waving at the scene before us. I’ve never seen or heard her sound more proud. “Your grandfather put his blood, sweat, and tears into this, and it’s an honor to continue his legacy.”
I marvel at the different sections of operation, from pottery to linen.
