with him. Sighing, she gave the servant a tired smile. “Don’t mind me, Maxim.” She motioned for him to lead the way. “I’d better get going. I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Yes, madam,” he intoned. “Here’s your case.”
She was startled, having forgotten all about it. Taking it mutely, she followed him to the door. When he’d opened it for her, he ventured almost hesitantly, “Madam? Mr. Brand isn’t so much of a jerk-face as you might think.” His long, seamed face opened in a bashful smile. “Give him time,” he suggested in a subdued rasp.
She scanned the tuxedo-clad gentleman quizzically. “Don’t tell me you’re fond of the man?”
The butler lifted a gray, triangular brow. “Mr. Brand may be a hard man, but he’s honorable.”
She shook her head in exasperation. “Well I’ll agree to the ‘hard’ part, anyway. Good night, Maxim.”
“Good night, madam,” he replied as she went out into the blustery night.
THE TWO VANS THAT PULLED up into Lucas’s circular drive, surrounded by well-manicured grounds, looked like something out of The Grapes of Wrath. They had ratty old suitcases, cardboard boxes and duffel bags tied haphazardly across their roofs as though they were a two-vehicle caravan of scraggly nomads headed out of state in search of a better life away from the dust bowl of Oklahoma. Of course that dreary image of the forty-sixth state ceased to be a fact long before these kids were born, so when Jess made the comment, she was met with blank stares.
Hopping off the first van, Jess loped up the wide front steps to the double doors and was greeted, before she could even knock, by Jerry Jones, the skinny, grinning chauffeur, dressed in his gray uniform and soft, billed cap. He took off the hat to expose wildly curly chocolate brown hair. Jess was startled by his friendly manner. She’d never been received half so kindly by his boss, so she hadn’t expected pleasantries from his employees.
“Hi, Mrs. Glen,” he said. “I see you’ve recovered from yesterday.”
When she smiled and nodded, he indicated that she follow him back down the steps. This didn’t surprise her. She assumed that being the chauffeur, he’d been instructed to help with the luggage. “Mr. Brand said you should take the vehicles around the back and unload,” he explained as he trotted ahead.
He hopped into the first van and led the way, then pointed to the stables and bunkhouse, which was partly masked by a stand of scrub oak. “There’s where you’ll be billeted. The bunkhouse hasn’t been used since Mr. Brand bought the property, but the maids are gathering up some bedding. Once the kids get their gear inside, they can come on up here.” He swung a gangly arm toward the house. “This door here goes into the back pantry and on to the kitchen. The bedding’ll be waiting in there.”
Jess was confused. “But, I thought we were to use guest rooms on the third floor.”
The chauffeur’s expression clouded. Evidently he’d been given instructions and no explanation. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know about that. Want me to ask the boss?”
She shook her head, aware that Lucas was using his employee to insulate himself from his promise, while also getting the Mr. Niceguy project and its kids as far away from his exclusive domain as he could. She hadn’t actually specified the main house, but Mr. Roxbury had used his own home. Darn. Why must she always compare Lucas Brand’s behavior to Mr. Roxbury’s. They were hardly comparable! With a deflated grimace, she said, “Never mind. I’ll get the kids to start unloading. Thanks.”
Jerry looked unhappy. “I’ll ask. Maybe I misunderstood.”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. I’m sure Mr. Brand thought we’d be too noisy or too messy or something, for his house. We’ll be fine.” She turned away, but then, having had time to get irritated, she added, “Is Mr. Brand at home?”
Jerry nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He’s working in his computer room. Want me to—”
“Just tell him we’re here,” she interrupted, more sharply than she’d intended. Calming herself, she smiled with difficulty. “I’ll want to talk to him in about an hour.”
Jerry nodded and started for the back door, when she stopped him, calling out, “And please—call me Jess.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I’m Jerry to my friends.” He grinned at her. Jerry had a weakly handsome face. His chin was pointy, and his eyes too small for a man his height—just over six feet. But they were clear, blue eyes, alight with friendship and