Page 103 of Joey

“Maybe someone’s getting married this weekend?” Huck offers. “It kinda looks like that size of a party.”

Wald brings the truck to a stop in front of the main entrance and we watch the massive double doors open and a small team of servants spill out and line up on the steps.

“I’m a little out of my league here,” Brooke admits.

“You and me both,” Huck agrees.

Four of them—footmen, I deduce—approach the car and pull open our doors. Then one older man, probably the house steward, stands and smiles as we all get out. Brooke is on the side closest to the house, so I walk around and take her hand.

“Welcome to the Kane family estate,” he says, making direct eye contact with me.

I’m suddenly glad Wald insisted we all dress up. The three of us are in suits and Brooke is wearing another version of her Bright Berry Beach skirt suit she wore to her interview.

“Thank you,” I say. “These are my friends, Wald Wynn and Huck Newtown. And this is my… fiancée, Miss Brooke Alder.”

The house steward bows his head just a smidge and says, “I’m Thomas. Very nice to meet you all. If you’d like to come with me I will take you to meet Mr. Conner while the footmen take care of your vehicle and bags.”

“Mr. Conner?” I ask. “Where are the Kanes?”

“They’re all here as well. We’re very busy planning a party for tomorrow. So everyone is scattered. But Mr. Conner has made time in his day to see you.”

“Great,” I say, shooting Wald a look over my shoulder.

He responds with an expression that I know well. Behave, that look says. The Kanes appear to take their pageantry seriously.

We follow him into the house. And what can I say about the house? It’s as massive and imposing on the inside as it is on the outside.

Brooke squeezes my hand as I look around.

I grew up in this world. I know for a fact that my family has more money than the Kanes. We own an entire building in downtown. It’s even named after us. The Boston Building, more commonly called the Bossy. And the top five floors were private. Meant only for us.

Well, and two hundred of our closest supporters, apparently.

I know what wealth is. Money isn’t something I think about on a daily basis.

But this is over-the-fucking-top grandiose and my heart hurts a little for my daughter. What kind of home is this castle?

Thomas stops at a large set of double doors and then opens them in that fanciful way you only see in period movies.

“Mr. Connor,” Thomas says. “Your guests have arrived.”

And there he is. The man playing father to my daughter.

He’s standing in front of the large windows backlit by the sun. The sheer white curtains billow around him as he turns.

“Joey Boston,” he says with a smile. He steps forward with an outstretched hand and I have to let go of Brooke to shake it. “It’s… nice to meet you. Finally.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking around, hoping for a glimpse of Maisy.

But she’s not here. There’s a grand piano in the corner, three different sitting areas, a round table set for afternoon tea, and a large white dog lying on a rug who doesn’t even bother to lift his head or wag his tail.

“Thanks for having us,” I say.

“This must be Brooke,” Conner says, pulling out of our greeting to take her hand and kiss her knuckles.

I glance at Wald, who is still shooting me that behave warning.

“You’re even prettier in person than you are in your pictures.”