Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Of course,” Axel replies smoothly.
“Miss Button, if you’ll allow me. There are some people you must meet,” Gavin says smoothly, placing a hand lightly on my back and guiding me away.
I glance back, and Axel’s green eyes are following me, his expression thunderous, a wordless warning. I turn back to face where I am walking, but I can still feel the pull of his gaze like a weight as Gavin leads me through the crowd.
But the next time I look back, people have moved between Axel and me, and I can no longer see him. Up ahead, I can see Lydia and Sheldon Manswell talking quietly. Up close, Lydia is poised, sculpted, and chillingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that immediately commands attention. No wonder my father was besotted by her. Her eyes flick over me with the kind of appraisal that feels like it’s stripping away every layer, searching for imperfections. Sheldon, on the other hand, stands casually, a drink in his hand. There is warmth in his eyes.
“Lydia, Sheldon, this is Jo Button,” Gavin says. “Joseph’s daughter. Jo, this is Lydia Manswell, your father’s ex-wife, and Sheldon Manswell, his stepson.”
And after that statement, someone taps Gavin on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear, and he excuses himself, leaving me with Lydia and Sheldon. Wow. Talk about an awkward introduction. This is just getting better and better. At least when Axel gives me the evil eye, he is good to look at.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Miss Button,” Lydia says with a cold nod of her head. Her voice is smooth, but there’s a haughty edge to it. She pauses, looking me up and down with a kind of clinical precision and makes absolutely no attempt to hide the fact she doesn’t think much of what she sees. “Welcome, I suppose.”
I can’t decide whether to reply with something equally cutting or whether to rise above it and be polite. In the end, I settle for nodding politely, even though I can feel the heat of irritation rise in my cheeks. If she notices, she doesn’t care. She just inclines her head slightly, excuses herself, and glides away as if the room is made for her alone, leaving an icy trail behind her. I imagine I can almost see the ground frosting over where she steps.
Sheldon steps forward, a more approachable presence despite his towering frame.
“Jo,” he says, his tone gentle. “Is it ok to call you Jo?”
I nod.
And he carries on. “Sorry about her. It’s not personal. She’s like that with everyone. I swear if she smiled, no one would recognize her.”
I manage a small laugh, appreciating the honesty. “That’s good to know. Thank you.”
He smiles, and it’s warm and easy in contrast to his mother’s frost. “I hope you know you’re welcome here. Really. It’s kind of nice to have a sister.”
We chat for a few moments. He asks about my journey, my thoughts about the funeral. I notice the careful way he chooses his words, the subtle restraint in his gestures. It’s friendly, considered, but completely human. When he excuses himself to speak to another guest with a promise to call me and arrange to have coffee and a proper chat, I feel a small pang of disappointment, though I shouldn’t.
I turn and scan the room, seeking something familiar, and my eyes fall on Betty. Relief blooms in me. I make my way over to her, feeling like I can finally breathe.
“Betty,” I say quietly, careful not to raise my voice over the murmured conversations.
Her green eyes widen in surprise. “Miss Button.”
“Jo,” I remind her.
She looks around self-consciously. “Jo? What’s wrong?” she asks, concern flickering across her delicate features.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assure her, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just pleased to see a friendly face.”
She smiles, her expression shy. “Me too. But with me being staff, well, I didn’t expect anyone to acknowledge me.”
I grin softly. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not one of those people, and we’re friends.”
Her lips curl into a tentative smile, and I feel a great warmth in my chest. My first impressions of Betty were right. She is definitely someone with whom I can be friends with.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
I look towards the double doors that lead out onto the patio, and suddenly I need to get out of here, away from these strangers. “I need some air. Fancy a walk outside?”
Betty nods, and we walk to the doors and across the patio. Betty leads me down a short path that opens out to a beautiful garden full of red roses. We sit side by side on a bench facing the flowers. It’s a good spot – close enough to the doors to hear the sounds of the wake and far enough away to be able to talk privately.
“You handled yourself very well back there with Lydia,” she says softly.