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"What are you smiling about?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to face her.
Jewell smiled wider and leaned back in her chair. "Some pleasant memories."
Benjamin looked away and rubbed a small towel over his damp hair. She studied the multiple facets of his expression. On the surface, he had a smile on his face and seemed calm and composed. But Jewell saw something behind his eyes. They lacked their usual lively spark, replaced by a smoldering fire. The rich brown color seemed muted and dulled by the events of the last few hours.
He raked his fingers over his scalp and sighed. Jewell reached out to take his hand. After a small, and all too short, squeeze he let go. A twinge of disappointment raced up her spine.
"Are you hungry? If nothing has changed, my parents eat breakfast in their bedrooms so we should be okay to go downstairs and eat."
Jewell nodded and they stood.
"I want to talk to you about something while we eat," Benjamin signed as they walked.
The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Not a single sound, except for the soft click of her shoes on the stairs, echoed through the tomb-like halls. Jewell followed Benjamin down the steps and to the back of the house. A room built of glass and steel opened up beyond a double set of french doors. She looked out onto a vast lawn elaborately decorated with large hedges, flowering bushes, and Grecian-style pottery. The landscaping bordered on pretentious.
"Sit down here. I'll see what I can find in the kitchen. Do you want anything in particular? Eggs? Bacon?"
Jewell shook her head. "Anything you find. Don't make anything."
Benjamin disappeared through the doors again, leaving Jewell alone in the huge room. She sat down at a small, round table and fought the desire to put her head down on the beveled glass top and close her eyes. The sound of the door opening again brought her attention around toward it. A man came in and seemed surprised to see her sitting there. He looked to be in his late fifties, perhaps early sixties, with thinning hair that might have once been blond, now speckled with gray. Jewell immediately recognized a family resemblance between this man and Benjamin. The brown of their eyes was the same, and this man had the same strong facial features.
"Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you," he said and turned to leave again.
"No, please. Come in. You're not disturbing me."
He smiled and came further into the room. There was a pipe in his right hand and he lifted it, silently asking if she minded.
"Go ahead. My father smokes a pipe. I love the smell," Jewell told him with a nod.
The comforting aroma of applewood, cherry, and tobacco filled the room once the tobacco was lit. He sat down in a chair nearby and puffed on the wooden pipe. The scent was the first comforting thing Jewell found, except for Benjamin, since coming into this mausoleum house.
"Did I see you come in with Benjamin?" he asked.
Jewell nodded. "Yes. I'm Jewell Kincaid."
He stood and leaned forward enough to shake her hand before sitting again. "Ben Prescott." Jewell arched her brow. "Yes, the original. I'm Ben's godfather. Most just call me Prescott."
Jewell cocked her head slightly and looked again into Prescott's face. "Oh, I thought you were perhaps an uncle. There seemed to be a family resemblance."
This new Benjamin smiled, though it seemed tentative. "I'll take that as a compliment, seeing what a fine-looking young man my godson is."
Jewell chuckled. She took an instant liking to this man. There was warmth in his eyes she hadn't seen in anyone else here. Except for Benjamin, her Benjamin. What a nice thought. Her Benjamin. Mr. Prescott reclined and released an aromatic puff of smoke into the air.
"How did you and my godson meet?" Prescott asked.
"I work for him."
One eyebrow arched when he looked at her. "Excuse my surprise, Miss Kincaid, but what I saw last night didn't seem like an employer-employee relationship. The two of you appeared to be close."
Jewell felt heat rush to her cheeks and she looked down at her folded hands. "Well, it is more than that. He's a friend. I care very much for him."
Familiar brown eyes looked at her from beneath gray-speckled brows. A smile creased the wrinkles at their corners. "Good. Benjamin needs someone to care for him."
A comfortable silence settled between them as Benjamin's godfather enjoyed his pipe. The fragrance calmed Jewell and she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Morning sunlight came in through the glass ceiling and bathed her in natural warmth. It seeped into her bones and increased the heavy sensation of lethargy. A long, deep sigh filled Jewell's chest and drained her limbs with its release. Prescott spoke and brought her back to attention.
"You sign very well. Where did you learn?"
Jewell forced herself to sit up straighter and open her eyes. "At home. My mother is deaf."
