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Well, well, will you look at that? One night and Jake Whitley has mellowed out. Though perhaps I shouldn't chant victory just yet. Maybe after a shower and coffee, he’ll go back to his grumpy self.
Either way, I was glad for the opportunity to have him show me around. I did want him to give me his approval on certain things. It was his home, after all. He should have a say in it, and if some areas were off-limits, I needed to know that as well.
He came down fifteen minutes later but didn't join me. He was on the phone, and I saw him pacing on the west terrace, frowning. Even from here, I could hear he was talking to his grandmother. He even mentioned his grandfather. A few minutes later, he pocketed his phone, descending the marble steps to join me.
"Oh, you're back to grumpy Jake, aren't you?" I asked.
He didn't smile. "Let's start the tour."
"Okay."
So, the miracle had only lasted a few minutes.
"How much time do you have?" I asked him.
"Thirty minutes."
"That’s plenty. Would you like me to walk you through my ideas?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
"Okay, so I'm thinking there’s no need for a tent. Your house is big enough to hold the reception inside. The catering team will put everything on the kitchen island and on the dining room table. There will be chafing dishes, of course. As for the outside, I’ll contact the company that has rental furniture to set up some tables and chairs on the terrace, but I wouldn't put anything on any of your lawns. They’re perfect and beautiful, and it would be a shame to ruin them. Jeannie seems like a very outdoorsy kind of person, though, judging by how lovely her garden is back in Boston, so I’ll try to make the outdoor area as hospitable as possible to keep the heart of the party right there by the trees."
I stopped midsentence, looking at him. He seemed lost in thought.
"Have you listened to a word I said?" I asked.
"No, I apologize. You were saying?"
My shoulders dropped. "Look, there’s no point in doing this if you aren't going to pay attention. You have other things to focus on. I simply wanted you to know what I planned. Tell me if anything is off-limits. In fact, why don't we start with that? Is there anything you absolutely don't want me to do?"
"I would like the upstairs area to remain closed."
"I can do that. There’s no reason for the guests to go upstairs anyway. Your grandmother said all guests will sleep at surrounding hotels."
"Good. Are we done?"
My jaw dropped. "Are you in a hurry?"
"Yes. We should go back to Boston immediately."
I blinked several times. "I thought you were going to stay and have your Natalie-free retreat this evening and tomorrow.” I paused a moment. “Wait, did you saywe? You’re coming to Boston? To stay, or just a layover?"
It hit me then. I took in his appearance. He wasn't annoyed like he was yesterday. He was frowning, and his eyes were intent and dark, not smug.
"What happened?" I asked.
"My grandfather took a trip to the ER.” His tone was even, but his expression betrayed just how worried he was. He just wasn’t letting on.
"Oh my God, is he okay?" I exclaimed, a hand on my chest. I had the strangest impulse to put my hand on him instead, hoping to calm him somewhat, even though he seemed perfectly composed. I had this eerie feeling that, inside, he was completely undone.
"He claims yes.”
“But you don't believe him," I stated.
"No. My grandparents have a habit of downplaying health situations. They don’t want to worry me, or us—me and my brothers."
"Oh good. So, that's where you get it," I said in a teasing tone. I wasn't sure why I said it. I wasn't trying to push his buttons like last night. I guess I simply wanted to alleviate the tension. It worked, because he lifted a corner of his mouth.
