The bus ride was long and monotonous. I’d always thought there was something kind of romantic about traveling across the country by road, but clearly, I’d never covered any great distance by bus before. After sleeping curled up on a seat all night, my notions of romance were certainly gone. My clothes were crinkled, my mouth tasted like cotton wool, and there was a sore kink in my neck I couldn’t stretch out.
I also had a distinctively pungent coffee stain down the middle of my shirt. Coffee had seemed like a great idea when we’d stopped to change buses this morning, but I’d made the mistake of not securing the lid to my cup properly. When I went to take a sip, the drink had spilled everywhere, ruining both my top and my backpack, which was placed at my feet. The drink had even soaked into the spare clothing I had packed. I should have counted myself lucky the coffee wasn’t scalding hot, but it was hard to feel grateful when I was looking so disheveled and smelled like something that had fallen out of a garbage can. The universe was having a good laugh at my expense, I was sure of it.
By the time I finally reached the small town Matthew lived in, I was in a foul mood and even less emotionally prepared to meet my long-lost father than I had been when I left Rapid Bay. I didn’t want to like anything about the place he called home, but it was hard not to appreciate just how pretty it was. Tall, leafy trees lined the main street through the town, which was made up of gorgeous old redbrick buildings. The place was quaint and picturesque, like something out of a postcard. It was nothing like the beachside town I’d come from, but this place had a different kind of charm to it.
When the bus finally pulled to a stop, I rose from my seat and stretched my arms over my head. Every part of me felt tight from the journey, and I was in desperate need of some fresh air. I hurried along the aisle, down the steps, and off the bus as fast as my tired body could move. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I came face-to-face with an elaborately decorated sign surrounded by stunningly bright and painstakingly manicured flowers of all colors.
“Welcome to Weybridge.” I read it aloud before scanning the rest of my surroundings. Behind the welcome sign was a large garden square full of greenery bordered by an ornate black fence. I must have been in the center of town because there were stores and cafés lining the streets on either side of the park.
The buildings were old and elegant, and the clothes stores looked high-end. Even the nearest café, which was a few doors down, looked expensive and classy. All the cars parked along the street were sleek and sporty, and the bright morning sun was blinding as it bounced off their pristinely waxed surfaces. I felt like I’d stepped off the bus and onto a movie set, where there wasn’t a blade of grass, brick, or building out of place. I was a long way from Rapid Bay, that was for sure.
As I headed over to the nearby taxi stand, I fished around in my backpack for the piece of paper my mom had given me with Matthew’s address written on it. There was a slight coffee mark on the corner of the paper, which reminded me how messy I looked. I pulled at the edge of my top in a useless attempt to straighten it out. Not that it would have made any difference given the stain running down the center of it. I couldn’t have looked more out of place in this town if I’d tried.
“Where to?” the taxi driver asked as I hopped in the back seat of the lone cab waiting at the stand. The woman was a little older than my mom, and she gave me a kind smile when she spotted the stain on my top. “Get into a fight with your latte this morning?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I guess I lost.”
“Happens to me all the time. I’m about as clumsy as they come,” she replied, but I got the impression she was just being nice.
“So, where can I take you?”
“Uh…” I glanced down at the paper in my hand and rattled off the address.
The woman’s eyes lit with recognition. “Ah, that’s the mayor’s house. Well, it’s not anymore, I suppose. He sold it just last week.” She took off from the curb, but her attention was more on me in the rearview mirror than on the road. “Do you know who bought it?”
“No, I’m just meeting someone there,” I said. It would have been a lie to tell her I knew Matthew when I’d never even spoken a word to the man. Also, it seemed unlikely he would have just bought the house. Maybe someone else lived there.
“Well, everyone in town has been dying to find out who’s moving in. I heard the mayor got an offer for the place that he couldn’t refuse and sold within days. Apparently, the buyer offered him a bundle more to get him out of there immediately and to leave it exactly as it came—all the furniture and everything. It’s all anyone around here’s been talking about.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I got the feeling this woman liked to talk, and it seemed she didn’t need any encouragement to continue.
“Jeffery, that’s the mayor, has been fending off buyers for that house for years,” she said. “I’m surprised he was finally convinced to sell. He’s always been very passionate about preserving the history of this town, and that house has been passed down in his family for generations. I thought he’d rather die than see such an important part of Weybridge’s heritage end up in someone else’s hands.”
It seemed like she’d forgotten I was in the car as she talked. The words streamed out of her mouth as though she was speaking to herself rather than a passenger.
“My guess is that it was bought by one of the families of the kids that go to school here. They’ve all got more money than sense…” Her voice trailed off for a second, and her eyes nervously flicked toward me. “Not that I’ve got anything against the kids at the academy,” she quickly added. “Do you go there?”
“Oh, uh, no.” I had no idea what she was talking about.
She blew out a breath, and her shoulders relaxed. “No, didn’t think you did. You don’t really look like the type.” My gaze fell to my coffee-stained shirt, and I could only assume she was referring to my mess of an outfit. If I’d felt out of place in the town center, I imagined that meant I’d stick out like a sore thumb if I went to the town’s school.
The car started to slow, and my stomach dipped in response. I’d been so caught up in the woman’s chatter I’d forgotten I was about to meet my father.
“Well, here we are.”
My mouth dropped open as I looked out the window at the tall sliding gate that marked the entrance to the property. Through the gaps between the black iron bars, I could see glimpses of what looked like a sprawling mansion beyond. I’d only ever seen houses like this on TV or in movies. I didn’t actually think people lived in such places—let alone my father. Perhaps he worked here. It seemed impossible that he might be the person the driver was gossiping about.
I paid the fare and gave the woman my thanks as I jumped from the car. I was a ball of nerves as I made my way to the front gate. All week, I’d been trying my best not to think about meeting my father, but I couldn’t ignore it now. This moment had arrived too fast, and I didn’t feel at all ready for it.
I’d always assumed my father was some sort of lowlife, unable to support my mom and me and incapable of being a dad. This beautiful home didn’t match up with that image of the man at all though. As I stared at the gate before me, I wondered if perhaps it was us who hadn’t lived up to his standards. This house was clearly worth an eye-watering sum of money. And if the taxi driver was to be believed, the recent buyer of the place sounded extremely wealthy.
It didn’t make sense to think that my father might be so rich. Not when my mom had struggled financially for so many years. It was all I’d ever known. I’d assumed my father would be a disappointment, and my expectations of the man had been set seriously low. But now it seemed far more likely that I would be the disappointment. He was probably going to reject me the moment he laid eyes on my coffee-stained shirt.
I didn’t want to care—I shouldn’t care. But how would I feel if the man turned me out before we’d even exchanged a word? I wasn’t sure, and the thought left a sour feeling in my stomach. I’d been so certain that I didn’t want to know my father, but now I was worried I wouldn’t be given a chance. How stupid was that?
The longer I stood there, the more I began to doubt myself. I needed to get this over with quickly, or I’d be heading back to Rapid Bay without meeting the man at all. And I had promised my mom. There was an intercom by the front gate, so I walked over and pressed the buzzer before I could chicken out.
“La Fleur residence.” A pompous voice came through the speaker.
My heart was in my throat as I replied. “Uh, hi. I’m Isobel Grace. I’m here to meet Matthew LaFleur.”
“Yes, come in, Miss Isobel.” The gate buzzed in response and slowly started to ease open.
“Thanks,” I told the intercom before starting up the drive. I probably should have had the cab driver take me all the way to the house, as it was a surprisingly long way, but I was somewhat glad to have the walk ahead of me and hoped it might take some of the edge off my growing nerves.
It took me a couple of minutes to reach the house, and I marveled at the beauty of the property as I made my way toward the impressive building looming up ahead. The sun came out from behind a cloud as I walked, casting dappled light across the driveway and highlighting the deep green of the hedged gardens that lined the way. A soft breeze ruffled my hair, bringing with it the lightest scent of roses and freshly cut lawn. This place was like a hidden oasis; strikingly different from the salty heat I’d left behind at home.
The mansion only grew more striking as I drew closer. It was a gorgeous old redbrick building with lush green vines crawling over the face of the first two of the building’s three levels. A large fountain stood proudly in the center of the circular driveway, and behind that was a wide set of stairs that led up to a majestic entrance accentuated by tall pillars.
A man waited for me by the imposing front doors. He was dressed in a black suit, his back was ramrod straight, and his chest was puffed out. His expression remained bland as I climbed the stairs toward him. My palms were sweating as I approached. He looked far too old to be my father, but my father’s age was yet another fact about him I didn’t know.
“Miss Isobel,” the man said in greeting. His thick British accent matched the voice I’d heard over the intercom, and given the way he’d addressed me, I guessed he must be some kind of butler or doorman. My mom had a thing for Downton Abbey, and I’d watched it enough times to notice an uncanny resemblance between this guy and the butler on the show. But I was almost certain he wasn’t the person I’d come to meet.
“Welcome to Weybridge House,” the man continued. “I trust your journey was pleasant.”
“Uh, sure.”
He opened the front doors and gestured for me to come inside. “May I take your bag for you?”
I immediately felt smaller as I entered the grand home. The foyer seemed to go on forever, and the ceiling was so high I had to wonder how anyone was ever able to clear the cobwebs away. There was marble everywhere; the floor, the walls, and even the wide staircase directly in front of me shared the glossy white sheen. The sparkling chandelier hanging overhead was so big it would have taken up half the apartment I lived in with my mom. I must have been gawking like an idiot because the man cleared his throat, and I remembered he’d asked me a question.
“Oh no, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” I clutched my backpack strap a little tighter. It felt somewhat like a security blanket. A small piece of home in this all too foreign landscape.
He gave me a brief nod before starting into the house. I followed after him, trying not to gasp too obviously at how ridiculous the place was.
“Mr. LaFleur is in his office,” the man continued. “He’s expecting you.”
“He…lives here?” I asked the butler in disbelief.
The man let out a slow sigh, like it pained him to utter a response. “He plans to reside here on weekends. Now, like I said, Mr. LaFleur is expecting you.”
I nodded, unsure what else to say. I was still in shock that my father appeared to have serious wealth, and I wondered if my mom had any idea. Surely, if she had known he was rich, she would have asked him for help raising me. For years, we had struggled to get by. Her business barely made it through each winter before the summertime rush just about buoyed us back to life. Mom suffered through constant financial pressure, and I imagined she really could have used the support.
Maybe she had asked, and he’d refused. Although, the more I thought about it, the more I found it difficult to believe my mom would have ever made the request. She was far too proud and independent to accept a handout. No, if she knew about my father’s money, it wouldn’t have mattered to her. Still, it made me even more curious about what had prompted her to introduce us now.
We passed several other people in suits that matched the butler’s as we wandered through the large corridors of the mansion, but none of them so much as glanced my way as they went about their business. The place was like a museum with long, wide corridors and large pictures hanging from the walls. There were even some stone sculptures dotted throughout the building, and I half expected to turn a corner and find a man holding a flag in the air, followed by a bunch of tourists listening eagerly as he described each piece we passed.
When the butler finally slowed by one of the doors, my heart dipped and my stomach clenched with an unexpected bout of nerves. I tried to remind myself I didn’t want my father in my life and I didn’t care what he thought of me. But as I stood outside the door, on the precipice of meeting him for the first time, all I could think was that he was sure to find me lacking. That given the opulence and extravagance he was surrounded by, there was no way I would ever be enough.
The door opened before I had time to mentally prepare myself, and the butler cleared his throat. “Miss Isobel to see you, sir.” The butler then stood back and gestured for me to enter the room.
