appeared freshly graded, it would take a few more passes before the road was smooth. The woods around them were thick and mature, just as they likely had been when the first Carters had made their mark on the land.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know about the greenhouse,” Libby said, lifting her camera to shoot the road ahead.
“Family always wanted to keep it private.”
The Carters had a reputation for being reserved. The one time they had landed in the public eye had been in the late 1990s, when a reporter in Richmond had done a piece on Edward Carter and his involvement with the Lynchburg Training School and Hospital. According to the article, Dr. Edward Carter had helped sterilize patients considered incompetent. He maintained in the article that he had nothing to be ashamed of and that he had dedicated his life to caring for women. The article had made a small mention of his work with the poor and the thousands of safe deliveries he had made.
Libby remembered her father muttering something about Dr. Carter, but when she had asked him to repeat it, he had told her never mind.
“You grew up in Bluestone, but I don’t remember you,” Colton said.
“I went to boarding school when I was thirteen. When did you graduate from the high school?”
“In 2003,” he said.
“I would have been the class of 2007, so we’d have missed each other either way.” As the truck passed over a rut, she grabbed the handle, steadying herself as the nose of the vehicle dipped and then rocked. Colton seemed unconcerned, as if he had done this more times than he could count. “Have you been here all your life?”
“I did eleven years in the navy. I got out two years ago after my wife died. I have two young sons.”
Knowing he had lost a wife oddly made her feel more drawn to him. Life had sucker punched him just as it had her. “Were they the two boys at the wedding reception?” she asked.
“They would have been hard to miss,” he said, grinning.
“Where are they now?”
“With my mom. She helps out more than I can say.”
“And your father was the head gardener at Woodmont before you?”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t think jobs were passed down from generation to generation in the States. That’s a very English Downton Abbey kind of thing.”
A small smile tugged his lips. “Maybe. I’m glad Elaine decided to keep the property and not parcel it off any more than she had to.”
“A lot of old places like this have high overhead and taxes. Unless you have a huge trust to support it, the only viable option is to rent the property out for business events, weddings, and parties. So how do you like being in the event business?”
“I don’t think we’re quite there yet.” He grinned, apparently not put off by the idea. She suspected he was a very pragmatic man, not fazed by taking risks when necessary. “Ginger was our trial run. She decided to get married four weeks ago and was headed to the courthouse when Elaine suggested Woodmont.”
“Four weeks is a tight turnaround for a wedding. She’s lucky she had access to the place.”
“The whole day would have been better if she had listened when I told her to rent a tent.”
“Get used to brides, grooms, and mothers of the brides not always listening. Everyone’s got their own vision of the event, and practical things like weather don’t always get factored in.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if Elaine decides to go that route. How long have you been taking pictures?”
“Five years. Started my career as an oncology nurse. But there came a point when I needed to step away.”
“You stay busy with the photography?”
“Very.”
“Good for you.”
“Work is always a good thing.”
He downshifted and slowed the truck as they rolled down a slight hill. In the distance, the woods cleared, and she caught sight of the James River. The Woodmont land was nestled beside a gentle bend at a narrow part of the river. Spring and early summer rains had left the river high and rolling quickly over its jagged rocks.
“The river is narrower there,” she said.
“The waters are normally calm. We get a lot of kayakers this time of year.”
“Looks more like white-water rafting today.”
“Yeah. There are times when it’s lethal.”
She noted his hand on the steering wheel and found her gaze drawn to his tanned fingers and neatly trimmed nails. They were sexy hands and reminded her that the last time she’d