Trials and Tiaras (Untouchable #7) - Heather Long Page 0,87

and then helped me out of mine. With care, he passed them over to the man, who hadn’t introduced himself but seemed to be some kind of butler. A woman bypassed us and headed for the stairs. Unlike the butler, she was dressed in a pale blue uniform of some kind. She kept her eyes down but gave me a polite if quick smile before hurrying on.

“Mr. and Mrs. Grayson will be down directly. If you’ll follow me to the sunroom. Lunch will be served in thirty minutes.”

The sunroom turned out to be a huge glass enclosure filled with foliage, flowering plants, and another fountain. It was much warmer in here and just a tad humid. Not enough that I wanted to shed my sweater, but I was definitely glad to be out of my jacket and gloves.

A table awaited us, all set for serving four. I guessed they’d prepared when Archie confirmed our arrival time. I’d been a bit of a coward on that front. I had no idea what to say to them right now, when I was about to meet them face to face. Calling them seemed impossible. What do you say to grandparents who might as well be strangers?

“Can I get you a refreshment?” the butler asked.

“A couple of sodas would be great,” Archie told him. “Coke, if you have it. If not, coffee.”

“Of course,” the butler said, then gave us the briefest of nods and left us alone.

“So. Weird.” It was almost creepy. I mean, the sunroom was gorgeous, and I could imagine sitting out here to read in the middle of winter would be amazing if there was snow outside and it was still warm in here.

Arms folded, I made a slow circuit, not quite ready to sit down. The fountain was a total surprise. Not that I had expectations, but the fact there were literally dozens of brilliantly colored koi in the water and the fountain was more of a water feature that wound through all the plants, including little bridges to create footpaths over it, was incredible.

“Holy crap, Archie.” I turned as he cleared his throat and stared right into a pair of intensely familiar eyes. They should be familiar. I looked into them every single day.

Patience Grayson with her near perfect white hair, streaked in silver and dressed in a neatly tailored blouse and what I imagined were riding pants—did they own horses too?—stared at me with the same green eyes I possessed. Her eyes. Mine. Maddy’s.

“You look like Madeline.”

Well, that was a greeting.

“So do you.” Two could play that game.

Perfectly manicured eyebrows raised, the woman—yeah, not leaning on a title for her yet—said, “Touché.” Then with a little more warmth, she extended her hand as she crossed to me. “Patience Grayson.”

“Frankie Curtis,” I answered and gripped her hand in a brief handshake. Her fingers were warm, almost papery in texture, but her grip was strong.

“Not Francesca?” There was a note of disappointment in her voice.

“Not if I can help it,” I told her simply. “Francesca is a little too fancy for my tastes, and I’m a pretty simple girl.”

“You’re dating a Standish, and you come from a prestigious line that can trace its roots back to the Mayflower.”

She probably didn’t mean that to sound as pretentious as it was, but I gave her a little shrug and a smile. “I’m dating Archie because he’s Archie. That he’s a Standish just happens to be a small part of the equation. As for my ‘prestigious line,’” I continued, making sure to emphasize the air quotes, “I grew up in a two-bedroom apartment in Texas, cutting coupons and buying stuff on sale. Bloodlines don’t mean much because they don’t really make sure you eat.”

Patience Grayson frowned at me, her eyes cooling but not turning frosty. If anything, they seemed disappointed.

“She sounds like Madeline,” a male voice announced a moment before the older man came into view. Like Patience, he had white hair, though more of his was steel gray than white. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue, somewhere between Ian’s deep blue and Jake’s much paler color. Still, he fastened those eyes on me with an assessing look. “But more direct, and with far fewer digs.”

I shrugged. “Unfortunately, you can’t choose your parents.”

The man surprised me when he laughed. While he moved slowly, he didn’t seem to have any balance issues. In some ways though, he seemed ancient. Like a lot older than Patience. Maybe I should have checked on their