the wake of the departure, there was the strangest silence in the house, an emptiness that was at once shocking . . . and liberating.
“How’d you like to have something to eat?” Helania asked him. “That’s what I was trying to do before . . .”
“Everything went off the rails?” he murmured.
“Yup.”
Rochelle stood up. “I think we should try the whole hot-cocoa thing over again.”
“Maybe it’s bad luck?” Boone offered. “We could give something else a shot.”
“Nah, I’m not superstitious,” his friend said as the three of them started to walk out of the parlor.
In the foyer, Boone paused and looked at the staff. “Thomat, I think everyone needs a good meal. Some food. Some drink. And by that, I mean . . . the whole household. Together.”
As he met the chef’s eyes straight on, he was aware that he was laying down a rule. A new operating system. A fresh way of conducting things in the house.
And if the chef didn’t agree? Then Boone realized with total clarity that he would walk away. Sell the house and the stuff. Cut a clean break with the sick, twisted, toxic legacy he’d been born into.
Thomat looked around at the other staff. There was some whispering. And then the chef bowed deeply.
“My Lord, we would find that most agreeable. Perhaps we shall adjourn to the kitchen and communally decide upon a menu?”
Boone smiled slowly and put his arm around Helania’s shoulders. “Good deal. That’s . . . that’s just the way I’d like it to be.”
Falling into a loose group, everyone headed through the dining room and out into the polishing room and the pantry. As he passed by the opened door of the butler’s suite, he leaned in and closed it firmly.
An hour later, they were all seated around the dining room table, passing silver trays and porcelain bowels around, the eclectic meal of leftovers and easy-make sides created by all hands, everyone served by each other, all plates filled with the same food.
Boone sat at the head of the table, with Helania not at the far end, but right beside him. Rochelle was down in the middle, sitting between Thomat and one of the maids. Everybody was talking, and there were occasional laughs, although Boone was aware that they were all still recovering from the extraordinary turn of events.
Helping himself to more mashed potatoes, he looked at Helania. And found himself wondering whether she was with his young. That was the only way he would feel better about things. If they had a—
Frowning, he stopped that thought by remembering what she’d said about them getting mated. Talk about a no-win situation. He was in love with her. He had realized that in so many different ways and so many different situations, but he was trapped by the prospect of the pregnancy. If he told her he loved her now? If he asked her to mate him? She’d already made it clear she’d just see it as him meeting a duty. And the problem was . . . even though she might not have noticed herself, he could sense a very subtle change in her springtime scent.
He had a feeling . . . that she was with his young.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she reached out and took his hand.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “These potatoes are great.”
“They’re how we made them in my family. The cream cheese makes all the difference.”
“You don’t say,” he murmured, rubbing the hollow pit behind his sternum. “Cream cheese. Who’d have thought.”
* * *
As Helania followed Boone down a long, formally decorated hallway, she looked at all the closed doors and lost count at sixteen.
Incredible, how big the house was.
Finally, he stopped. “So this is my bedroom.”
“I’m excited to see it.”
“It’s nothing fancy.” He caught himself and then laughed a little. “I mean, it’s not like—oh, whatever, let’s just do this.”
As he opened the door, she stepped inside to—“Wait, is this a living room?”
“It’s the sitting area of the suite.”
“Oh.” She shook her head ruefully. “Wow. Okay—”
She stopped talking as she looked through an archway on the far wall. Called by what she saw, she walked forward into a dream bedroom. The bed was Boone-sized, for real, a huge king that was draped in monogrammed sheets and covered by a duvet that had some kind of a seal on it in the center. But none of that was what had gotten her attention.