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When we got to the house, I couldn’t believe it. Literally, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Rick had called it Montgomery Manor, and I’d thought he was just trying to be funny or something—but he wasn’t. It literally was a manor. A mansion. Three stories high, sprawling, with an attached six car garage.
And that said nothing about the land around it. Acres and acres. The front yard was well-kept, just like the back must be, but further away from the house was all woods. If I had to guess, they’d cleared the land of the trees when they’d bought it and had the place built all those years ago.
I couldn’t even imagine how many square feet the house was. Six thousand? Seven thousand?More? Regardless, it seemed like such a huge house… and for what? What was the purpose of having such a grand place in the middle of what was basically a small town not on any national or even state map?
Yeah, Eastcreek was small. Like, if you were driving by, you could blink and miss it.
Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but compared to the big city, Eastcreek was nothing.
My mom slowed the car to a stop before the grand front door to the house. “The movers should be here soon. We boxed up everything except for the big furniture, like they asked. They best not dally. I have to drive back to the apartment once it’s empty and give the keys to the owner—”
I tuned her out, getting out of the car and slinging my bag over my shoulder. Craning my neck back, I gazed at the impressive house. It was, in a word, big. In more than one word: big and beautiful and wasteful.
It was only Alistair and Gareth, and now me and my mom. Just four people in a house this large. How pointless.
My mom was by my side in an instant, and together, we walked to the front door. You had to step up four times on what looked to be granite steps to reach the door—and the door itself looked like it had been plucked off a freaking castle. My mom must’ve been here before, because she didn’t seem as amazed as I was; she just walked right in, not even bothering to hold the door open for me.
“I need something to drink. I’m parched,” she muttered, walking away from me. “Your room is on the second floor, Brianna.”
It was only a forty-five minute drive from the city, so not too far, but far enough for everything to feel different. I stepped inside, having to push my back against the door to get in—it was one heavy-ass door, let me tell you—and the moment I walked in, my mouth dropped.
I stood inside a grand foyer. It opened up into a spacious hall where a large, carpeted staircase was. The railing of the staircase was dark wood, and it curved along with it, its design beautiful. Paintings hung on the walls, paintings that, once I got closer to one, I realized were the real deal.
Of course this house wouldn’t have cheap knock-offs. Anything hanging in it, anything displayed, was from the artist themselves.
Wow. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here after all.
I took the stairs up, turning into a hall. So many rooms. Guest rooms, studies, even what looked like a library room. I passed one room that had an easel sitting in its center, and my feet jerked to a stop. I stepped back, peeking inside the room.
The curtains were open, the room bigger than the one I’d grown up in, both at the house with my dad and at the apartment with my mom. When I entered the room, my breath caught in the back of my throat, my eyes traveling along the walls.
Empty canvases of all sizes. A desk sat along the wall of the hall, packs of new pencils laying atop a new sketchpad. I walked over to it, ran my finger along the edge of the desk, amazed at the fact that a whole room was dedicated to art in all its forms.
A knock on the open door jerked me back to reality, and I spun around to view Alistair standing there, his blue eyes on me. His black hair was combed back, but the look suited him. It wasn’t that he was combing his hair back to hide a balding spot; it’s just how he styled it.
Some men looked ten times more amazing in dress clothes. A man in a suit was ten times more attractive than that same man in everyday clothes. But Alistair… well, let’s just say he looked just as good today as he had last night, and he didn’t wear a full suit today. Still a button-down shirt and dress pants, but no tie and no suit jacket.
I could definitely see what my mom liked about him. He was hot.
“I see you’ve found your surprise,” Alistair said, walking into the room with a low smile on his face.
My eyes widened at him. “My… my surprise?” I had a hard time getting the words out, mostly because I couldn’t believe it. All this wasmine?
He nodded once, his hands in his pockets as he walked over to me. “I wanted to do something for you. I know you’re an artist, so I cleaned out one of the bedrooms and set this up for you. It’s right next door to your room, so it’s not far. If there’s anything else you’d like, just let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
Money wasn’t the answer to everything, I was aware, but damn, could it buy some nice supplies.
Mom’s warning to be thankful to Alistair didn’t even cross my mind when I gushed, “Thank you so much. I love it. This is—well, it’s just amazing!” I twirled around, taking it all in once again. “I’ve never had so much space to work on my stuff before.”
I’ve never had name brand colored pencils before, either. Or good paint.
Alistair’s smile only grew as he watched me be in awe at the whole room. “I’m glad you like it. Gareth is an artist too, but he claimed the pool house years ago for his workspace.”
I froze. “You have a pool house?” Why did it shock me so much to hear that? A place like this, I should’ve expected it.
Alistair walked to the window, motioning for me to follow him. “Yeah. You overlook the backyard from here, so you can see the pool.” He pointed at the glass.
I went to stand beside him, peering outside. It was just as he’d said. A nice, big, blue pool surrounded by a stamped concrete patio and a bunch of white chairs. Beyond the pool was the pool house, a building that was bigger than the other houses we’d passed in Eastcreek while driving here.
