Chapter 13: The Spring Gathering
The grand living room was unrecognizable from the bleak, freezing tomb it had been during the winter storm. The arched windows now admitted streams of golden afternoon light, illuminating polished floors, freshly cut daffodils in crystal vases, and a roaring fire that crackled cheerfully against the evening chill.
Vance had organized a small, intimate gathering—not of corporate sycophants or distant board members, but of the loyal estate staff who had stayed through the hardest months: Martha the cook, two elderly groundskeepers who had tended the lawns for decades, and local medical specialists who had finally restored the patriarch's strength.
I stood before the antique mirror in the master dressing suite, smoothing down the emerald-silk dress Vance had surprised me with that morning. It was a far cry from the black-and-white uniform I had worn when we first collided in this very room, yet as I pinned my hair back with a silver hairpin, I didn't feel like an imposter. I felt like I belonged here.
A knock sounded at the door, and Vance stepped inside. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his dark hair neatly combed, but his eyes softened the moment he saw me in the mirror. He walked up behind me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders, his reflection mirroring mine in the glass.
"You take my breath away," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of my neck.
"I'm not used to silk," I admitted, looking down at the emerald fabric. "I keep feeling like I should be holding a silver tray."
"Your tray-holding days are officially retired," Vance said with a warm smile, turning me gently to face him. "Downstairs, my father is already demanding a glass of port, and Martha has outdone herself with the roast. It's time to celebrate the house actually living again."
When we descended the sweeping staircase arm in arm, the chatter in the living room paused for a heartbeat. The elderly man sat in his wheelchair near the hearth, looking sharp and dignified in a velvet smoking jacket. He raised his crystal glass toward us with a steady hand.
May you like
"To the people who actually know how to keep a fire burning," the old man announced, his voice carrying clearly across the room.
Applause rippled through the small gathering. Martha beamed from the doorway, and Vance squeezed my hand tightly before leading me out to join them. For the first time in years, the grand mansion felt less like a monument to isolation and more like a home.
