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It also gave her privacy on weekends when she came home but still had to work.
She didn’t mention any of that to Alexander. Although, he wasn’t a dense man and probably figured out that she used it on her working weekends when she was home.
“That’s perfect. I won’t have to get directions to pick you up. I’ll knock on your door at...ten thirty?”
“Ten forty-five might be better, and we can walk. The church is that way.” She pointed toward where the church was. They couldn’t see it from the yard, because of the big old oak tree and the way the land was contoured, but it was a short walk. “Maybe five minutes. I wouldn’t drive unless it was raining.”
“All right. I’ll knock on your door at ten forty-five, unless it’s raining, and then I’ll... Can I drive there?” he asked, leaning around her, trying to see whether the road went toward her cottage or not.
“No. It’s back off the road, and we walk to it from here. Wherever you have your car parked is probably fine. Where did they park you? In the sandlot behind the boarding kennels?” she asked, knowing that’s where they usually put the overflow, and Alexander had come later in the morning.
“That’s it.”
“You should be fine there. I suppose you’ll have to go back and grab some clothes.”
“Yes. I think I can find it myself though.”
“Strawberry Sands is not exactly a large town. It’s not even a large small town.”
“It’s barely a town.”
“True. But I think the smaller the town, the more close-knit everyone who lives in it is.”
“I wouldn’t disagree with that.” He paused. “Although I have no experience.”
“You grew up in Chicago?”
“Mmhmm.”
He didn’t seem inclined to add more, and this was the type of thing that she normally wouldn’t press him on. But she wanted to know.
“It must have been a completely different world, growing up in the city.”
“Yeah,” he said, and his face seemed carefully blank as he put the last strawberry tart into his mouth. He chewed slowly, looking out at the lake, and seemed disinclined to answer any more questions. She wasn’t sure from his expression whether it was okay for her to ask more, or whether he was politely trying to discourage her. They’d never had this problem in their relationship before. Every time they’d been together, even if they were doing lunch, which they did occasionally, it was all about business.
“Are your parents still alive?”
At first, she didn’t think he was going to answer her, because he chewed slowly, swallowing, his gaze on the lake the entire time. Finally, he took a sip of his drink, set it down, and then turned to her.
“My dad died in prison. My mom is still there.”
Clara’s eyes got big. She had no idea. None at all. That was...shocking.
That such a great businessman, a millionaire and her boss, had a family life like that, but instantly, it made him far more relatable than he had ever been before. She didn’t exactly pity him, but she felt drawn to him in a way she hadn’t, even when she’d been attracted and secretly in love with him.
“Siblings?” she asked softly, care and concern in her tone.
“Just me. Fitting, since parents like mine probably shouldn’t have more than one progeny.”
Was he laughing? She couldn’t quite tell and didn’t want to laugh at an inappropriate time or over a sensitive subject.
