“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, hurrying toward him. “Nathan, I was so worried.”
Her arms wrapped around him.
He held her gently.
Her hair smelled like orange blossom shampoo. Her cheek pressed against his jacket. For one terrible second, his mind betrayed him by remembering a younger Caroline in a denim jacket, sitting in the passenger seat of his first delivery truck, laughing because the heater was broken and she had to hold coffee against her hands to stay warm.
Then the memory dissolved.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“What happened?”
“Eleanor thinks someone impersonated the car service,” he replied. “Maybe a robbery attempt. Wealthy men, black sedans, predictable schedules. The police are looking into it.”
Caroline pulled back. Her eyes searched his face.
“Police?”
“Quietly. Nothing public.”
A tiny relaxation touched her mouth.
There it was.
Relief.
Not because he was safe.
Because he was misled.
“That’s frightening,” she said. “You did the right thing.”
“I got lucky.”
She touched his cheek. “Maybe we both did.”
Dinner was served in the garden room. Caroline had told the cook to prepare his favorite meal: roasted sea bass, lemon potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a bottle of California Chardonnay they had bought on their twentieth anniversary. Nathan ate because refusing would be suspicious. He answered her questions. He let her pour his wine. He even smiled when Preston called halfway through dinner and Caroline declined the call with visible annoyance.
“My brother is impossible,” she said.
“He’s been impossible for twenty years.”
“He thinks the family deserves more from you.”
Nathan looked at her. “Does he?”
She gave a soft laugh. “Preston thinks everyone deserves more from you. Especially Preston.”
“Is that what this morning was about?” Nathan asked.
Caroline stilled.
He let the silence stretch just long enough.
“At breakfast,” he added. “Your mother. Preston. The usual performance.”
She exhaled. “I’m sorry. Mother has been anxious about money.”
“Your mother owns three homes.”
“She owns three mortgages.”
Nathan looked down at his plate.
Family.
There it was, the old wound. Caroline had been raised in a wealthy-looking family that had quietly gone broke twice. Diana wore pearls to hide panic. Preston wore arrogance to hide failure. Caroline had married Nathan when he was poor and then spent two decades insisting she had sacrificed status for love. Somewhere along the way, love had become a debt she believed he owed.
“Your family has received enough from me,” Nathan said quietly.
Caroline’s smile tightened. “That sounds cruel.”
“No. Cruel is letting people believe they can spend forever without consequence.”
Her eyes cooled for half a second.
Then she recovered.
“I don’t want to fight tonight.”
“Neither do I.”
After dinner, she went upstairs early. Nathan waited twenty minutes, then slipped out the side door toward the staff cottage.
Tessa Porter opened before he knocked twice.
She had already been crying.
“Noah told me some,” she said. “Not all. Enough.”
Nathan stepped inside. The cottage was small but clean, warm with lamplight and the smell of chamomile tea. Noah sat on the couch beneath a blanket, sketchbook closed on his lap.
When he saw Nathan, he stood quickly.