The Curse of Redwood (Ivy Grove #2) - Jaclyn Osborn Page 0,37

he said, as we neared a bright room.

Once passing through the doorway, I stared in awe at the cathedral ceiling and the sunlight spilling in through the walls of windows. Sure, the room could use some tidying, like a round of Windex and heavy dusting, but the beauty remained regardless. A chaise lounge set to one side, while a multi-patterned couch was on the other with a stand beside it. In the center of the room was a glass table and two chairs.

“It’s so bright in here,” I said, craning my neck as I looked upward and spun in a slow circle.

“Yes,” he agreed, following my gaze. “Other than the library, this is my favorite area of the mansion. When you live in the dark, it’s nice to stand in the light every once in a while.”

“What was this room used for when you were alive?” I asked.

“Sometimes, Mother and I would have our breakfast in here or afternoon tea,” he answered, touching the table. His eyes had a faraway look in them, and I wondered if he was remembering that time in his life. “I also liked to come here and read.”

“There’s definitely enough light for that,” I said, sliding off my backpack and sitting on the couch. I sneezed twice in a row, and the headache throbbed in the base of my skull.

Ugh. Stupid allergies.

“Apologies for the dust. A woman used to come once a week to clean the first floor, but William scared her away when he tried to play tag and she ran from the manor screaming.”

“Maybe this is a dumb question, but is William your son?”

“Heavens, no,” he said. “Though, over the years, I’ve certainly taken on such a roll, I suppose. He and his sister, Rose, look up to me.”

Rose must’ve been the girl with the curly dark hair I’d seen standing beside William on the stairs.

“Can you tell me about your mom?” I asked, sliding over so he could sit beside me on the couch.

Z sat on the cushion, though it didn’t register his weight at first. He’d gone transparent for a second before becoming solid again. Did the topic of his mother upset him?

“Her name was Alice,” he said, after a long silence. “She gave birth to me just after her eighteenth birthday. My father was much older than her, as she was his second wife and he preferred his women young and beautiful.” The last part was spoken with an edge of bitterness.

The information matched what Ben and I had found in our research about the Warren family.

“My love of reading came from her,” he continued, his voice—and expression—softening. “Back then, men feared women who were intelligent, and Father disliked her filling her head with silly ideas. Women of high social standing were taught to stay silent on all matters and smile.”

“Sit and look pretty,” I said.

“Precisely. But Mother loved books, and she’d often whisk me away to the library where we’d read together. Where Father wished for me to be like him, cold and intimidating, I ended up taking after her. She taught me kindness and love. I miss her.”

I opened my mouth to ask what happened to her but snapped it closed again.

“She left the estate before the curse,” Z said, studying me. “Your questions are written so clearly on your face sometimes.”

I averted my eyes. “Why did she leave?”

“She had her reasons,” he said. “I was angry at her for so long, but then I understood why she left. That’s all I will say on the matter.”

“I’m not close to my mom,” I said.

He peered over at me. “Does she not live close by?”

“Nope. She’s an actress in California and cares more for her career than she does for me. It’s always been like that.”

“What of your father?”

I shrugged. “We used to be close. But then he changed. He’s a movie producer and started partying pretty heavy when I was a teen. Where my mom only cares about her career, my dad only cares about banging any young, pretty thing that looks at him.”

Z placed a hand on my leg. “That’s a shame. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” I cleared the lump in my throat. “It’s whatever. I haven’t talked to them in months. They’re not really part of my life anymore.”

“Well, both of them are fools.”

Wanting to change the subject, I grabbed my backpack. “Oh! I have something for you.”

“The fun supplies?” he asked with a smirk.

“No. I mean, yeah, I have that too but this is something else.” I