“So the Hunts were some of the earliest Americans?” I asked Mr. Andrews as I noticed the date on one painting – 1769.
“Yes, the family has been here since the 1720s, when George Hunt came to discover the New World. His son William was instrumental in beginning the foundations of the movement that eventually led to the War of Independence, and it was after Massachussets and the rest of the thirteen colonies became the United States of America that the Hunt family truly became a household name, as it is likely that without George and William Hunt, the independence movement would never have received the steam that it did.”
“Wow,” I whispered, slightly awestruck. Being in this house, among these people, was like really being a part of history. I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong, like I was some kind of impostor who should go before making an idiot of myself. I didn’t have a chance to, though, as Mr. Andrews led me out a large set of French double doors and into a perfectly manicured backyard.
“Young Kiegan Hunt should be out there somewhere. I can help you find him, if you’d like.”
“Oh it’s fine, thank you,” I replied. “I can find him, it’s a nice day out.”
With that I sprang into the warm sunshine of the late afternoon onto the grass so springy it felt like I was walking on pillows.
I made my way away from the house, not really realizing the true size of the estate. Strangely enough, I never saw a single sign of another person.
“Kiegan?” I called out, wondering where the Hunt son was. I had been hoping for someone my own age to hang around with, but only the birds answered, chirping away that they were leaving soon to go somewhere warm for the winter.
“Kiegan?” I asked again, moving in slow circles, looking around. After what must have been twenty minutes or so I gave up. The sun had been steadily dropping in the sky, and twilight was on its way. I made my way back to the house, and it wasn’t until I was within the warm embrace of the walls that I realized how cold it was getting outside at night.
I wandered through the halls until I found someone, a woman in her 20s who had obviously been cooking given the amount of flour on her outfit.
“Excuse me,” I asked shyly.
“Yes?” she answered, looking surprised.
“Um, I was supposed to go out and find Kiegan Hunt in the backyard, but he’s not there. Um, I just sort of thought I should let someone know, in case he’s in trouble or something?”
The girl laughed. “Yes, he probably is in trouble.” My shocked looking face must have made her realize I wasn’t nearly as nonchalant about this fact as she was, as she quickly added, “don’t worry, Kiegan Hunt goes off on his own fairly regularly. I’ll let Mr. Andrews know for you.”
“Ok, thanks,” I mumbled, and the girl rushed off.
Wandering through the halls, I came across Mr. Andrews once I finally found the entrance hall, after at least fifteen minutes of wandering.
“Ah, welcome back Miss Ressler. Dinner is about to be served, I’ll take you in to the dining room now if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Mr. Andrews,” I replied. “I wasn’t able to find Kiegan outside. I told a girl, and she told me not to worry, that Kiegan goes off on his own sometimes.”
Mr. Andrews sighed. “Yes, I’m sorry you weren’t able to find him. He is a little bit of a free spirit that child. Well, no matter. You’ll be siblings soon enough, I’m sure you’ll get to know each other very shortly.”
With that I was led once again through the maze of halls, to a dining room with a huge table, rectangular and big enough for at least a dozen people. It was set for four, and I noticed Mr. Andrews subtly removing the cutlery from one of the spots. I supposed Kiegan must have been expected for dinner.
I sat down at one of the seats and a couple minutes later my mother came in, followed by a man with hair that was just starting to grey at the temples but was still thick. He had one of those chiselled faces that you knew must have been good looking years ago, and a confidence that made him seem younger. It was a face I’d seen quite a few times in newspapers and magazines, but it was still strange to meet Elton Hunt in person.
“Ah, you must be Tina, it’s lovely to meet you,” Elton Hunt greeted me like I was an old friend, holding his arms out. I went forward cautiously, and he took me by the shoulders and kissed my cheek gently.
“It’s very nice to meet you as well, sir,” I replied.
“Please, please, call me Elton. After all, we’re basically family now. You’re welcome to call me dad if you want too, but I’d understand if you don’t.”
“Ok, thanks Elton,” I replied with a nervous smile. Was I seriously on first name basis with one of the most powerful men in the country?