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“How is the research going?” she asks.
“Not well,” I admit, hating the reminder. The Josephine portion of my project has completely stalled, leading me to a maddening dead end.
Upstairs, there’s a large reception area and a pair of mahogany doors leading to what I assume is Ben’s office. Beyond the doors, I glimpse a commanding desk, built-in bookshelves, plush chairs, and expensive carpeting. A second office is tucked off to the side of the waiting area, and it’s there that Sophie takes me. This space is smaller but actually appears lived in, whereas Ben’s office looks like a room in a model home that nobody uses. All for show.
Something suddenly occurs to me. “What does a lord do?” I blurt out.
“I’m sorry?”
“For work, I mean. I know Ben’s father is the one who runs the estate and all that, but what exactly is Ben’s job? What does he do?”
“Not much” is the muttered response.
“What?” I glance over in surprise.
“I said, ‘So much,’” Sophie repeats, a wan smile firmly in place.
I call bullshit. She totally saidnot much. And that note of disdain wasn’t missed either. Methinks someone doesn’t like their boss.
“Lord Tulley runs a nonprofit,” she explains, taking the box from my hands to set it on her desk. “As well as sits on the board of two foundations.”
“Oh. Okay. That does sound like a lot.” I gesture to the box. “Please thank him again for letting me dig through all this stuff. It’s helped so much.”
“Are you any closer to solving your mystery? Benjamin filled me in on the Josephine saga.”
“Nope. Dead end. All I know is she was a maid who was probably involved in a love triangle with two Tulley brothers. I have no idea what happened to her.” I give a hopeful look. “Ben is traveling again, right? The last time we spoke, he mentioned there might be more documents in the cache at their Ibiza house.”
Her expression hardens again at the mention of Ben. “I’m sure he’ll reach out if he discovers anything else of use.”
I fidget with the strap of my bag. “Okay, great. Anyway. I should be going.”
“Yes. I’m afraid I must also be off.”
We leave her office and head back for the stairs. It’s awkward again, and I find myself making dreaded small talk to fill the uncomfortable void.
“Any big holiday plans?”
Sophie spares me a brief look before continuing her descent. “I’ll be spending Christmas with my dad, as I usually do.”
“Oh, me too.” I offer a tentative smile. “He’s basically my only family.”
At that, her face softens. “I’m in a similar situation.”
“Does your father live in the city?”
“No. He’s in an assisted living facility thirty minutes south.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Is he sick?”
“Early-onset Alzheimer’s.” Sorrow creases her features. “He’s fifty-three. The symptoms started in his late forties.” Her voice catches just slightly. “He’s aged so much these past five years. Almost unrecognizable now.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, my heart aching for the pain I see in her eyes. “That must be really difficult for you.”
We emerge from the stairwell and enter the airy lobby.
“It’s not the most pleasant of circumstances,” she admits. “But I’m grateful he’s well cared for. The facility he’s in is the best in the entire country.”
“That free health care has its perks, I suppose.”
