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Briar’s shoulders finally come down from her ears when she inhales the scent of cider donuts. I order two helpings and some coffee, then lead the way toward the gazebo, where we can sit, talk, and eat.
“You don’t have to do this.”
I sip my coffee and smile at her. “I don’t have to do what?”
“Keep me company.”
With a wink, I reply, “Every babysitter needs a respite.”
She leans away from me, studying my face. “What makes you think I’m a babysitter?”
I shrug and shove a donut in my mouth. After I chew it up and swallow it down, I say, “It seems to me like you’re looking after somebody who just got out of prison and doesn’t know what to do first.”
Briar snorts adorably and takes a bite of her donut. “Oh my god, this is incredible.”
I nod and shove another one into my face.
“So what’s the story? Why are you following her around like a nanny?”
She looks at me sideways. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Girl, I’m so good at keeping secrets that I can almost guarantee that I will instantly forget everything you wanna tell me.”
“I’m a senior history major at IU,” she says finally. “I’m spending the next few months working at the Bryant estate.”
She stares at me, and I look back at her blankly. I feel like she thinks I’m supposed to know what that all means.
I stall. “The Bryant estate?”
She nods. “You know. Bryant Castle? George Bryant? Railroad baron? Media tycoon?”
It rings a bell, I guess, but it doesn’t mean much to me.
“I’m not, what you would say, informed about rich people stuff. Or history. Or castles.”
This all sounds like a weird fairytale that she is making up.
If it is? So be it. It’s not a lie that’s gonna hurt anybody.
Briar goes on to explain without any of the condescension that I would typically get from someone who knows things I don’t know. The Bryant family bought up hundreds of acres in the woods right in the small southeast corner of Ohio that brushes up against Kentucky and West Virginia. They fell in love with the area and decided to build a protected sanctuary. George and his wife, Elinor, had three children. Esme, his great-great-granddaughter, is the last of the clan. She is 28, and she spent some time modeling in Europe. But then she returned home abruptly and went straight to her room. She didn’t come out for weeks and never told anybody what happened to her in Europe that caused her to come home so suddenly. People say she hasn’t been the same since.
“So she lives up at the house, all by herself?”
Briar smiles at me knowingly. “Not anymore. At least not for the next season or two. She has an intern.”
She waits for me to pull the pieces together.
“Wait a minute.”
She smiles when she sees that I’ve got it. “You’re the intern.” I point at the tent across the square. “That’s her? The heiress?”
She nods.
“She doesn’t seem loopy to me.”
Briar shrugs. “I think all she really needs is a friend. And to get out more.”
“Then it looks to me like you’re doing a good job already.”
