On a shore of ocean-rounded rocks and coarse sand, an old man named Hilary was waiting for me. Dressed in a prim suit with a deep purple tie, there had never been a man so out of place in all the world. He didn’t look like he belonged here, in this strange, wild, mystical place, but then again I’m sure I didn’t either. “I see you made it safely, then, Miss Lang.” He took my huge hard case luggage, packed to the point of bursting with clothes and books, and carried it off easily in the direction of a mud-splattered Land Rover that was parked twenty feet away.
“Looks that way,” I agreed. I wasn’t too sure if I meant it, though. Part of me felt missing, like I’d carved out a chunk of my heart and forgotten to bring it with me on the flight from California.
“Ronan and the children are already up at the house. If you like, we can drive around the island and I can point out where the amenities are before we head back there. You won’t be expected to start work until tomorrow, so today’s all yours. You can sleep if you’re jetlagged, or you could go for a wander, have an explore or whatever.” It sounded like the idea of exploring the island bored the back teeth off him.
I opted for a quick tour and then back to the house. Sleep wasn’t on the cards after dozing all the way from the airport in the back of Carrick’s taxi, but the effort of being on the road for so long had wiped me out. Lying on my bed, reading and relaxing in the quiet, sounded perfect right now.
Hilary showed me where the local grocery store was, the post office, the bank. He drove me from what he called the Church Quarter all the way across the other end of the island—a grand total of twenty minutes in the car—to a town called Richmond, to show me a beautiful, sweeping lake there. After that, he announced that it was time to go back to The Big House.
“The big house?”
“That’s what everyone calls it, the Fletcher’s place. It’s been in the family for generations. Real old Irish estate money, apparently. A lot of people from the island used to be employed there back in Victorian times. Cooks, service staff, groundsmen, that kind of thing. No one’s been living there for a long time now. I think the residents are still in shock when they see the boss tearing around on his motorcycle.”
Huh. Ronan was old money. That explained a lot. He exuded an air of entitlement that went beyond his position as director of the Fletcher Corporation. He wasn’t New York businessman arrogant, as Mom suspected. He was wealthy third generation Irish landowner arrogant. And where the hell did he even get a motorcycle out here?
I was nervous about seeing him. Nervous in a strange, girly way, which was absolutely crazy. He’d been shitty to me in my interview. He’d managed to strip me down and somehow make me feel less than an inch tall in a period of fifteen minutes, and still his looks and his confidence unsettled me. I shouldn’t let it happen, but every time I remembered him entering into his office and sitting down at his desk in front of me, I was helplessly undone. Six months I had to live in the same household as him. Six months was a long time. I was either going to be helplessly in love with the asshole by the time mid-April rolled around, or I was going to hate him more than anyone else on the face of the planet.
When Hilary turned the Land Rover into a long, arrow-straight road and suddenly “The Big House” appeared in front of us, I understood why everyone called it that. The building wasn’t a house; it was a mansion. A huge sandstone monstrosity, three stories high, with eight pillars, four on either side of the massive entranceway, propping up a deep lintel that ran from one end of the building to the other. I counted a total of eight windows on each of the floors. How many rooms did that equate to? The place was obscene. It made perfect sense that the Fletcher family, circa 1890, had needed to hire half the island to run the place.
“Seriously?” I couldn’t keep the comment in as I sat there, blinking up at the house, which only kept getting bigger and bigger as the Land Rover sped up the driveway. “All this? For Ronan, me, you and two small children? We’ll be lost half the time.”
Hilary laughed under his breath. “Not for me, actually. I’m heading back to New York tonight. Ronan’s asked me to keep an eye on things back in the city for him and report back if anything goes awry.”
So, Hilary was more than just a driver. That didn’t surprise me. He had a way of holding himself and of speaking that made me think he was highly educated. Weird that he’d been the one to come and collect me from the beach, but then again Ronan Fletcher obviously didn’t mind doing things a little differently. “If you need anything, you can always give me a call, though. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black leather wallet. “I have some business cards inside. Take one,” he said, holding the wallet out to me.