AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kissing a beautiful woman hadn’t hurt anything, either.
On Friday afternoon, almost two weeks after Jake and Tess’s wedding, Genevieve sat in the back of a luxury sedan and sipped from a bottle of sparkling water while a driver ferried her home from Aspen to Lake in the Clouds. Driving the Maserati through the mountains had been a kick but had totally worn her out. In hindsight, she should have arranged to drive the sports car one way instead of round trip. Next time she did something like this, she’d know better.
Not that there necessarily would be a next time. She had enjoyed the experience, but she couldn’t say she was passionate about it. Same with the drawing classes. Oh, she’d loved the setting—a large estate outside of Santa Fe with private bungalows. The food was fabulous, and the company interesting and eclectic.
She’d have enjoyed it more if Helen had been with her.
Won’t my sister love to hear that?
Based on the tone of some of the texts from Helen that she’d found on her phone when she’d turned it on this morning, Genevieve had some explaining to do. Oh, she’d known to expect that. One of the selling points of the workshop was that the time was “unplugged.” Guests were asked to send the estate’s emergency phone number to loved ones upon arrival, then turn off their phones and not turn them on again until departure.
Genevieve loved that part of the event. The time away from a screen of any kind had been restorative. In addition to the time spent with her sketchbook, it allowed her to think and to dream and to plan. She now had a nice long list of potential passions to explore.
Of course, her phone had blown up this morning, but she’d expected that, too.
She’d read through the messages, answered all that needed a response, and promised to call everyone by the end of the day tomorrow. Now she was ready to be home. She thought she’d probably call Helen and Willow once she arrived and had some privacy. Her driver was nice and friendly, but no way could she tell her sister about the male model they’d sketched while the driver could overhear.
Finally, he made the turn onto her street. Genevieve was surprised to see Willow’s car parked out front. Immediately, worry assailed her. Had something happened? No one had called her this afternoon. Making sure, she checked her phone for missed calls. Nothing.
Oh no. Is something wrong with Helen?
No. This was probably about the air clearing Willow wanted to do, but still.
Reaching into her purse for her keys, Genevieve spoke to the driver. “Paul, that’s my daughter’s car parked in front of my house. She’s not supposed to be there, and I’m a little worried that something is wrong. I’m going to dash on inside as soon as you stop.”
“Sure thing, Ms. Prentice.” He goosed the gas pedal, and the car accelerated, pulling into her driveway a few seconds faster, something Genevieve appreciated. She opened the door the moment it was safe. The driver called, “Good luck.”
She darted toward the front door, the quickest way into the house. Her heart pounded. Her mouth was dry as sand. Even as she attempted to fit her key into the lock with shaking fingers, she tried the knob. It turned. She rushed inside. “Willow?”
Three things hit her at once. Lights blazed in the kitchen. Andrea Bocelli played on the sound system. The aroma of garlic and olive oil drifted in the air.
Genevieve relaxed just a little bit. “Willow!”
“Hey, Mom!” Her daughter emerged from the kitchen, a smile on her face and a tea towel slung over her shoulder. “You’re home!”
“Is something wrong? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I decided to have a welcome-home celebration for you. I knew you’d be hungry from traveling, so I made Tuscan chicken. It’s almost ready.”
Something is wrong.“The kids are okay? Helen? Your sibs?”
“Yes, Mom. Everyone is fine.”
Well, something wasn’t fine. Genevieve knew her daughter. This was about more than a decade-overdue talk. “Okay, then. I’d better see to my driver.”
Fifteen minutes later, Genevieve’s bags had been deposited in her room. She’d changed her clothes, washed her face,and done some deep breathing to bring down her pulse rate. With a glass of wine in her hand, she sat at the kitchen bar and waited for her daughter to tell her what the heck was going on.
“You made an early dinner for us.”
“I did.”
“So, where are the children?”
“At home with a babysitter.”
“A babysitter?” Genevieve drew back in surprise. “Who?”
“Her name is Olivia Brinkley. I found her through a friend of Auntie’s. She’s sixteen, and this is the second time I’ve used her. The kids love her.”
