Right now, you need time. Soon you and your family will have to meet with your grandfather’s estate attorney, and that’s going to be an enormous issue to deal with.”
“Oh? How so?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
“Did you not see the Gollums out there?” He hunched forward and rubbed his hands together, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he lisped evilly, “My precioussss …”
Her laughter boomeranged up and down the hall. The infectious sound made Quentin laugh too.
“True. I see what you mean,” she said, still chuckling a little. After a few quiet intakes of breath, she locked eyes with him. “Thank you, Quentin.”
He was surprised at the premature gratitude. He hadn’t done anything to help her yet. Hadn’t saved her, taken away her pain—nothing. “For what?”
“For being here and for caring for my grandfather.”
“I was honored to be your grandfather’s friend. I loved him like a brother.”
“And that is exactly why I’m thankful.”
“Here,” he said, handing her a business card. “When you’re ready to go to the bank, call me. We shouldn’t wait any longer than next Saturday. In the meantime, if you need anything, you have my information.”
“Okay. I should probably give you my info as well.” She turned toward the office.
“No need.” She paused before clearing the doorway. “Your grandfather made sure I had all of that a while back.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
Quick footsteps brought their attention to the hallway that led to the foyer. A woman approached them, wearing a determined look that morphed into relief when she caught sight of them. “Oh, there you are, Grace. Are you ready to go home now? These shoes are killing my feet and I feel a headache coming on.”
Grace sighed at the same time her shoulders rolled forward. “I’ll be right there, Mom.”
“Okay, but don’t be too long. I’ll be in the car.” The woman gave Quentin a polite little nod before she turned to retrace her footsteps.
Grace looked back to him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Quentin, I have to go.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll make sure to get a hold of you before next Saturday. It was really nice meeting you.” She extended her delicate hand. He took it gently and shook it.
“It was nice meeting you too, Grace. I’ll see you soon.”
It unnerved him to watch her go. He hoped she wouldn’t need a lot of time before going to collect the contents of the box, because he wasn’t sure if he could wait another week before seeing her again. After all, his purpose now was to protect her.
Yeah, that’s it, he tried telling himself as he rubbed absently at the lingering burn of his seneschal band.
A hazy glimmer of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting geometric orange-red shapes behind Grace’s closed eyelids. She fumbled blindly along the top of her nightstand for her cell phone, desperate to check the time. Even though she made it through the night, she knew she should still be dead to the world. Through a partially opened eye, she saw it was only 6:07.
Exasperated, she grabbed her extra pillow and covered her face, hoping to drown out both the sunlight and the disgustingly cheerful chirping of the birds. A pillow, however, couldn’t darken or drown out her thoughts. All night long, spinning round and round in her head was her grandfather’s death, his letter, her ungrateful family, her upcoming birthday, and now…how seriously hot Quentin was.
She couldn’t get over the hard, steely stare of his eyes. The intensity of it seemed to see right through her—searching. Frustrated and unable to stop the wheels from turning, she relented and forced herself to get up. On top of her laundry basket at the foot of her bed was a pair of faded blue jeans and a red henley. She grabbed both of them and headed for the bathroom. The messy mound of her dark mahogany hair was still piled on the top of her head from the night before. Green eyes stared back at her, but were barely recognizable through her puffy red eyelids, as she tried focusing only on the mundane ritual of getting ready.
Before she had a chance to leave her bedroom, the smell of fresh pancakes danced its way up to the top of the steps, beckoning her to the kitchen. Her growling stomach convinced her to heed its calling. From the kitchen’s entry-way, Grace watched as her mother flitted around making breakfast. A single eyebrow rose as she wondered what her mom was up to. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Of course.