AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Oren led Rose to the opposite side of the library and removed a different version ofJane Eyre,one that seemed to have been printed much later than the one in his hands. It seemed less mystical. Rose trusted herself with it more.
“You came here to get a book?” Oren asked.
Rose nodded and pressed the book against her chest. Her stomach continued to roil, but she didn’t know if it was due to sickness or nerves.
“I imagined you would leave the house today. Imagined you’d traipse through the island and hitchhike home again,” Oren said. “It’s your day off, isn’t it?”
Rose was surprised that Oren knew anything about her schedule. Perhaps Mrs. Walden had let something slip. Or maybe Mrs. Walden had complained about Rose in some capacity. Rich women always complained about the hired help, Rose assumed.
“I’ve been sick today,” Rose explained.
Oren squinted as though he wanted a better look at her. “You look a little pale.”
Rose considered telling him that she’d spent the entire day tossing and turning in bed, sweating and cursing and wishing she was back home in Mississippi.Not that that would fix anything.
“Do you want a nightcap?” Oren suggested.
“I beg your pardon?”
Oren’s smile lifted. “A little drink before you go back upstairs. What do you say?”
Rose’s blood pressure spiked. It had been nearly two weeks since the fire, which meant this man was nearly two weeks into grieving the death of his wife. What could she possibly say to him to help him on this journey?
But she knew she couldn’t say no.
There was too much urgency in his eyes.
Besides, she’d had such a nothing, painful, black day. Maybe a nightcap would do her soul some good.
Oren led her up a back staircase to an area of the house she’d never seen before. A statue of a stoic man in a soldier’s uniform stood guard at the staircase landing, and a stuffed bird stretched its wings maniacally in mock flight. Rose’s hand flinched with the sudden desire to sweep through Oren’s.
It felt inevitable that I would come up here with him,she thought.Even from the first moment I saw him, I sensed something would happen.
How had she known?
Oren had three rooms to himself: a sitting room, an office with a mahogany desk and impressionist paintings, and a bedroom with a view of the Nantucket Sound. The furnishings were ornate and antique. Rose’s firstthought was that the children would destroy them if they were here.
Oren entered his study and cracked open a bottle of something thick and brown. Maybe it was whiskey or scotch. Whatever it was, it was nothing Rose’s parents had ever enjoyed in the shadows of their reeking living room back in Mississippi. They’d always smoked cigarettes inside. Mrs. Walden smoked, too; Rose had seen her. But they had plenty of maids to clear out the stench.
Oren poured two stiff glasses and gestured for her to sit in the ocher leather chair across from him. She did. He didn’t bother with clicking his glass with hers, as though he was beyond those sort of childish celebrations.He lost his wife. He’ll never celebrate again.
There was a massive golden sculpture of an eagle behind him. It was ostentatious.
Oren caught her looking at it. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
Rose sucked in her breath. What did she know about design or artistry? Back home, her parents’ idea of decor had been fifteen American flags positioned around the yard and house, stitched upon pillows and bedspreads.
“It’s something,” she said, hoping she struck the right tone.
Oren got up and looked the golden eagle in the eye with the air of a man preparing to fight it. “The way the Waldens decorate this place boils my blood,” he muttered.
Rose snorted with surprise.
“Tell me,” he said, gesturing. “Tell me how you would have decorated this room.”
Rose tried to envision what she might have added to an empty room. What paint colors might she have chosen? What fabric for the furniture? But being poormeant not knowing the full potential of anything. It meant seeing nothing but boundaries.
Too much silence passed. Rose’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment.He’s going to regret inviting me up here. He’s going to think I’m stupid.
