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Evidently, this person wasn’t Branson Knight, since Liam said he was only thirty years old. The tall, thin man who greeted them had gray hair and appeared to be in his sixties or seventies.
“Good to see you too.” Standing tall in his upright wheelchair, Liam clasped his hand and gave it a hearty shake. “And you know you can call me Liam.”
Several young men wearing khakis and white shirts filed outside, heading toward Liam’s car. “Take the luggage to the East Wing,” the older man called after them. “Suites one and two.”
The man turned his sharp gaze toward Carly. “I’m Fordham. And you must be Ms. Simon.”
She hesitated for a second, her reflex to correct him. But she stopped herself in time and pasted a smile on her face.
“Nice to meet you, Fordham.” She stuck out her hand. Fordham’s shake was firm and respectful. “Are you related to Mr. Knight?”
“We have no blood relation.” Fordham gave a wry smile. “I describe my position here as that of indentured servant.”
Liam chuckled. “Don’t listen to him, Carly. Fordham is Bran’s right-hand man. Bran says he keeps everything running smoothly at the estateandin business.”
“Everything here at the estate is definitely under my purview,” said Fordham. “But my duties in the businesses are more like that of a firefighter who runs around putting out small fires. Branson likes to shower embers in every direction.”
Carly grinned despite her nerves. “Must keep you busy.”
“I’m certain my young slave driver believes if I ever have a free moment to sit down, I might decide I’m too old to get back up again.” Fordham arched a single eyebrow. “His assumption may be correct, but I’ll never know.”
He swept his hand toward a wide, windowed hallway.
“Follow me, and I’ll show you to your apartments.”
Five minutes and several turns later, Fordham stopped in front of a door and handed Liam a key. “You’ll be in here, and Ms. Simon will be next door. Branson specifically chose the East Wing because it has the best views. I’d have put you in a West Wing apartment that wasn’t five miles from the dining room.”
“I’m sure I’ll love the view,” Carly said. “But I won’t be here long. As soon as the snow clears up tomorrow, I’ll get a car and be off on my tour of leafless trees in the snow.”
Fordham’s eyebrows flew to the top of his forehead.
“She was planning to see the autumn leaves,” Liam explained.
“I’m so sorry! I’m afraid it will be mostly white now.” Fordham’s kind eyes and sympathetic smile reminded her of her father. Before Ben’s death... when he still cared about anything, including what happened to Carly.
Fordham retrieved his vibrating phone from his pocket. “Ah! Master Knight requests the honor of your presence for a cup of cocoa as soon as you get settled and freshen up.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you the way,” Liam told Carly, as he paused in the doorway of his suite. “It’s easy to get lost in this place.”
When Liam was gone, Carly shot a nervous glance at Fordham. “I’m sure the invitation wasn’t for me. I’ll be fine in my room. I’ve got a book to read.”
“Ah! But Branson specifically mentioned you in his invitation, Ms. Simon.” Fordham led the way to the adjacent room and unlocked it for Carly.
She stepped through the doorway and froze in her tracks.
“This is amazing!” The entry led straight into an open kitchen and living area larger than her entire apartment back in Houston.
“Down the hallway, you’ll find two bedrooms. Your luggage should be waiting for you in the master.” Fordham urged her forward and closed the door behind them. Then he cleared his throat. “I hate to bother you, Ms. Simon, but we need to confirm your identity and run a quick security check. All I need is some form of identification.”
“Identification?” She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth.What am I going to do?“Uhm... Can I tell you something in complete confidence?”
“Would it have anything to do with your name being Carlotta Simpson?”
Her throat swelled against her voice box, making her words squeak. “How do you know that?”
“We didn’t know for certain, but it was the closest we could find toCarly Simonregistered to attend the Biomedical Engineering Convention.”
“Yes, that’s me.” She wished she was as small as she felt so she could crawl under a rug and disappear.
