Chapter Eighteen
Riley
The wind tossed another dousing of cool rain on us as we ran from the stable to the conservatory. Down past the deep green trees, the Pacific Ocean roiled with shots of silver, grays of frightening depth, and the startling whites of churning waves. I had never seen the ocean during a storm.
Thankfully, it didn't turn into a storm until we got the horses securely back in the stable. Even then the splintering crack of thunder made me dive for Landon. One arm held me tight as he charged out across the streaming path and led the way to the conservatory.
Once we were inside, the storm sounded louder; hard rain ricocheted off the glass roof. Landon reached for a light switch, but I stopped him. The dark clouds rolled over us, and I looked up past the canopy of palm trees.
The conservatory smelled like lemons, and the air was humid with green growth and wet earth. We stood next to each other and Landon's arm was still tight around my waist.
When he turned to ask me why I wanted the lights off, I kissed him. We were hidden, and everyone would think we were waiting out the storm in the stable. He was delicious with rain-wet lips that parted with a pleased smile. Our clothes were nothing more than soaking wet second skins that felt every contour and press.
Both his arms encircled me, lifting me up against his hard chest. My toes brushed the floor and then the lights came on.
A man cleared his throat. "Chef saw you from the window and wondered if you’d like hot toddies."
Landon didn't let me pull away; instead, he stole one quick kiss before he said, "No, thank you. I'll call down later when we've decided."
The staff member left and closed the door.
"I'm sorry you didn't get to see the vineyards," Landon said.
"I wouldn't mind going back down in the archives." I pushed against his chest lightly and he let go. "Really, I find your archives fascinating."
Landon took my hand and led me into the hallway. "How about we decide after we're out of these wet clothes."
As much as my mind fluttered over the suggestion in his words, Landon was serious. Back in his master suite, he headed straight for his closet. I gathered up some of my own dry clothes and headed to the bathroom.
"Still shy?" Landon called from the open closet door.
I was, and my cheeks were burning, but I managed to say, "Maybe you just need to work a little harder for it."
Inside his master bathroom, I forced myself to maintain my coolness and leave the bathroom door ajar. I flipped on the light and gave myself a congratulatory smile in the mirror.
Then my mouth dropped open and I turned to gape at the marbled temple behind me. I hadn’t paid attention before, but now that I was taking the time to look, I was impressed with this bathroom. Two glass walls with separate rain showers stood on either side of a massive white marble sunken tub. Greek pillars surrounded it on four sides with a fresco of olive groves on the wall behind it.
I leaned on a double vanity longer than my car. Still taking in all the incredible details of the bathroom, I stripped off my wet clothes and grabbed a sinfully soft towel. I wrapped it around myself quickly when I remembered the door was still ajar.
Landon had emerged from his closet and suddenly my attention was diverted from his grandiose bathroom. He was naked, toweling himself off with a navy blue terry cloth robe. He reached up to tousle his hair dry and all the air left my body. His arm muscles danced as he rubbed the towel across his head, and his chest and abs tightly flexed.
The sensation of wanting him melted away the chill of the rain and left me smoldering. I still couldn’t believe he would look at me. As if to test my theory, my toes inched out the bathroom door. What would he do if he saw me drop my towel?
The wanton thought had stopped my heart when Landon's phone rang. He snatched it off the bed, scowled at it, then muted it and tossed it behind him onto the sofa.
Chilled again, I stepped back into the bathroom, wrapped my hair in a towel, and got dressed. When I emerged a few minutes later, still brushing my hair, Landon was dressed and pacing by his front windows.
"I'm sorry the day keeps getting ruined," Landon said.
"It's not," I said. "So, aren't we supposed to be doing afternoon tea?"
He laughed. "My housekeeper would be over the moon if she heard you suggest that." Landon came across the room to feel a curling tendril of my hair. "I hope you didn't get chilled out there."
"Not at all. The views were amazing." Another crack of thunder underscored my enthusiasm.
"Maybe we should get you that tea anyway," Landon said.
I took his arm. "Actually, I'm more of a coffee drinker."
He smiled and tucked me close as he reached for the old-fashioned phone. "Yes, thank you. Could you please send coffee to the cozy hall?"
"What's the cozy hall?" I asked as he hung up the phone and led the way downstairs.
"You'll see," Landon said. "I have to say I'm really sorry for what happened with Lyla. What if she hadn't met you at the gala?"
I wanted his cousin out of his mind. Landon let her drive him crazy, and if he kept worrying over our last encounter, the day would never recover.
"If we're playing 'what if,' how about what if you had to meet me all over again? Would you still lie about who you were?" I asked.
Landon paused at the railing before the grand staircase. "It was just so nice talking to you."
"Because I didn't recognize you? Is that the reason you like being around me? I don't think of you as Landon Michel?" I tugged on his arm.
"That's part of it," he confessed. "You have no idea what a relief it is to be unknown."
"Is it really that bad to be you?" I asked.
"I don't know how to explain it. Wait, you told me you used to teach back in New York. So imagine walking down the hallway. You can't just walk —you're a teacher so you have to present a certain image. The kids notice if you stumble, or stop to buy a candy bar, or have an outfit on they don't like." Landon paused on the stairs one step below me. "Does that make sense?"
"Anonymity," I said.
"Just being normal," he countered. "That's why I like being around you. I can be normal, my normal, not the representation of my family legacy or the celebrity facsimile of everyone else's fantasies."
"It'd be easier if you had more family around you," I said. "I used to always wish for a sister that knew everything about me, and I didn't have to hide anything from her."
Speaking of family, I tugged him back up the stairs and led him toward the portrait gallery.
"It's too bad my mother never wanted any more kids than me," Landon said with a chuckle. "All of this would be so much easier if I had siblings."
It wasn't hard to find his mother's portrait. The modern skyline of New York, plus the sleek sophistication of her outfit, were nothing compared to the poise and beauty of her face. Landon's mother sent a serene smile out over anyone who viewed the painting. Next to me, Landon looked up at her with shuttered eyes.
"Her portrait is beautiful. Perfect. It graced the byline of every gala and event she hosted. She sat for two whole weeks to get the portrait just right." Landon stuffed his hands in his pockets. "My father, on the other hand, made his artist travel with him. They'd been to three countries by the time the poor man had started the actual painting."
"What city is that behind him?" I asked, puzzled.
"Tel Aviv," he said. "I remember because I got the flu and the only time my father sat with me was when I was laid out on a couch in the artist's workspace."
"Where was your mother?"
Landon shrugged. "She was there in Tel Aviv. Exhibit openings, antiquities auctions, whatever the social to-do was, she was there."
"So she didn't mind that your father worked all the time?"
"Not at all," Landon said. "She saw it as a status symbol, part of his public image, and it garnered her a lot of sympathy and attention."
I crossed my arms and looked at his mother's searching smile. "I think it's wonderful that they wanted you with them."
He sighed and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. "They thought it was exciting for me, broadening my horizons, giving me a childhood full of adventure. But I was also missing out. Missing out on normal school, missing out on normal family holidays, missing out on normal weekday dinners with my parents."
His hurt was too close to the surface and Landon looked miserable, so I knocked his elbow with mine and smiled. "If you're going to have a portrait up here one day, you should wear a really ugly tie. Then you don't have to worry about anyone talking about your faults —they'll just be talking about that ugly tie."
Landon's chuckle banished some of the lonely chill in the portrait gallery, but not enough. I shivered and he wrapped an arm around me.
"It's about time we get you to the cozy hall," he said.
"With a nickname like that, I already know I'm going to love it." I insisted on leading the way even though Landon kept having to call out which turn to take.
The cozy hall was the far end of the formal living room. After passing two fireplaces, a grand piano, three separate alcoves, and a polished redwood bar, I found out where it got its nickname. It was probably the only place in the house that didn’t have high, imposing ceilings. Most of the room’s ceilings towered almost two stories, but the cozy hall was ensconced between built-in bookshelves and a low, hand-carved wooden ceiling.
"The ceiling was imported from a French monastery," Landon said. "The fireplace is also from France, but it’s from some dismantled palace."
The fireplace crackled and smelled of pine. Landon took what looked to be his usual spot on the end of a dark plaid sofa. He patted the cushion next to him, but I just smiled and kept browsing around the room.
All of the furniture at the far end of the formal living room was overstuffed and stacked with pillows. Quilts of startling intricacy were draped over the arms of the sofas and the backs of some armchairs. It was also the only place in Golden Bluff that didn’t boast opulent overhead lighting. Golden lamps, candles in hurricane lanterns, and Tiffany shades gave the space a soft, warm glow.
I was leaning over a side table of photographs when a woman arrived with a silver coffee tray. She smiled brightly at me and gave me a quick sweeping assessment. Then she saw Landon and grinned.
"A good spot for a great day, your grandfather would have said."
"Thank you," Landon said, grinning back. She disappeared through a hidden side door, and he laughed. "My housekeeper always called the servants’ hallways 'secret passages’."
Outside, the storm threw buckets of rain against the window, but it couldn't drown out the merry fire or the warmth I felt when Landon smiled. He was so sure and solid, finally looking relaxed despite the rich furnishings.
"Stop looking for embarrassing photos and come sit down. I'll pour you some coffee," he said. "Besides, if you want to see anything good, you'll have to dig out an album. My mother would never let any but the most meticulously chosen photos go in a frame."
"Then I'll just have to find a photo album," I announced. Landon raised an eyebrow when I joined him on the couch and picked up my warm coffee mug with both hands. "You don't think I can find one?"
"By cuddling with me and sipping coffee? Not that I'm complaining." He smiled and inched closer to me.
"I should make you bet money but that just wouldn't be fair," I said.
Landon chuckled until I leaned down and opened the hidden drawer of the trunk that served as a coffee table.
"My grandfather had the same hope chest," I explained. "Well, maybe not this nice —his wasn't inlaid with mother-of-pearl —but it was made with the same place for keepsakes."
Landon looked suspicious of the wide leather-bound photo album. The sleek shine meant it was relatively new, within the past couple of decades.
"You're not going to find a cute baby book if that's what you're thinking," he said.
It was a scrapbook of some sort. Most pages held extra party invitations or newspaper clippings.
"Here are baby pictures," I said, holding the book up toward Landon.
He picked up a stray invitation, gold leaf on heavy cream stock. "This party was four days after I was born. I bet my mother went. Now that's more like it."
Landon pointed to a photograph of his beautiful mother posing on a white wrought-iron bench. Her flowing skirt was artfully arranged and she held an exotic parasol. On the fringe of the photo was Landon's father, an angry expression on his face as he talked into his phone. He used his leg to hold back a crying toddler, Landon, who was reaching out for his mother.
"Just because that's what's captured on film, doesn't mean that’s how they felt about you all the time," I said.
Landon rolled his eyes. "I know. My childhood was nothing to complain about. How about yours? Don't you hold any bitter complaints against your mother or your grandfather?"
I looked out the window at the rain. "Whenever it stormed and I got scared, my grandfather made special hot cocoa. He'd sprinkle the top with cinnamon and tell me it was a special potion to calm the skies."
"Did it work?" Landon asked.
"Every time," I said with a grin.
Landon handed me my coffee and I sat back to enjoy its warmth. "What was it like living in your house?"
"It could be lonely," I admitted. "My mother worked a full-time job and a part-time job a couple days a week. Grandpa worked long hours, and no one in the world could make him retire. I lived for the days we all had off together."
"They took you out to do fun kid stuff?" Landon asked.
My smile was tight, trying to keep the memories under control. "No, never. Days off were spent at the farmhouse. We had a routine for everything. Coffee, or cocoa, and the newspaper in the kitchen. I didn't even mind sitting at that table for hours when it was gorgeous and sunny out. My mom would bake, my grandfather would read out loud and add his own stories, and I was just glad we were all in the same room."
"Every day off?"
I knew he couldn't believe it because it sounded so boring, so I tried to explain. "It was more than a routine, it was a tradition. We had all sorts of traditions for those days. After the newspaper and breakfast, we went for a walk in the woods. There was a path that led all around my grandfather's property, and we'd take note of things that needed to get done. If the weather was nice, we ate a picnic lunch in the orchard. If it was raining, we sat on the front porch."
"And had magic cocoa if it rained." Landon stared at the coffee in his mug.
"Little things like that are easy to forget." I turned my attention back to the photo album. "I bet your family had them, too."
"We had traditional roles, not traditions," Landon said. "My mother was always beautiful and social, my father was always busy making money, and I was always seen but not heard."
"But they loved you and wanted you with them." I shifted the heavy album onto his knee. "When you're not in a picture, your mother has this handkerchief."
He put his coffee down and took the album with both hands. "My initials."
"And there are a dozen photos of your father making this funny face."
Landon looked where I pointed and laughed. "It made me laugh every time."
I leaned on his shoulder as he slowly flipped through the album and noticed the small gestures of love. The storm still howled outside and the fire was dying down, and our coffee was getting cold, but neither of us moved. Something in Landon was unwinding, loosening with every picture he found of a shared look or genuine smile. Sometimes he had to really search, but he found them.
"Thanks," he murmured and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Feeling warmer?" He slipped the album onto the trunk next to the silver tray and turned to me. "Now how about we do something fun? There's a full movie theater in the basement, an indoor pool shaped like a grotto complete with a waterfall—"
I held up my hand to stop him. "How about secret passages?"
Landon's laugh was warm and easy but with an edge of surprise. "You'd rather crawl through a dusty secret passage than swim in a grotto?"
"Come on." I stood up and tugged him to his feet. "It's raining and we're in this big mysterious place. The day is practically begging us to have a secret passage adventure."
He grinned but shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Nancy Drew, but there aren't any secret passages. Just old servants’ hallways and staircases. Some have hidden entrances, but I assure you they are all very boring and mostly lead to the kitchen."
"Well, where did you go on daring adventures as a kid? This whole giant palace and there wasn't one mysterious hallway or room that you liked to explore?"
Landon scrubbed his chin, and then a sapphire glint formed in his eyes. "There is one place. Come on, I'll show you."
He pulled me toward the secret panel on the wall where the housekeeper had disappeared earlier. Hidden behind a carved leaf was a catch that he released. The door opened. Behind it, the hallway was narrow but clean and well lit. Modern recessed lighting illuminated our path as he led me along to a tight intersection.
"Where are we going?" I squeaked with excitement as he pulled me down a curving staircase. The paneled walls and carpet gave way to stone and the temperature dropped. The lighting reverted back to old wall sconces with the occasionally flickering light bulb.
"The wine cellars. Or as Andrew and I used to call them," Landon dropped the timbre of his voice and gave a spooky laugh, "the catacombs."
The 'catacombs' turned out to be nearly a mile of twisting tunnels that served as wine cellars. According to Landon, they were meticulously ordered and maintained by unseen staff members. We were like children again, racing through the dim rooms, hiding in the shadows, and trying to take each other unawares.
I crept up on Landon, holding my breath to contain my giggles. He knelt down in a far corner and I was sure he was watching for me to come from the other direction. I had just raised my hands over my head and inhaled for a huge 'boo,' when he spun around, wielding a large rubber tarantula.
"Fang!" he cried.
I shrieked and stumbled back.
Landon helped me up with echoing guffaws. "Sorry, Riley. I was surprised to find him and couldn’t resist."
I inched away from the fake spider. "What is it?"
"Fang," Landon said with a fond smile. "Andrew and I used to hide him around here to scare the staff. I doubt it ever worked, but we thought it was funny."
He dangled the creepy toy over my head and I dashed off down the tunnel. I took a sharp turn to my right and stumbled into a room I’d never seen before. It felt like I’d fallen back in time.
In the midst of the dim, cool tunnels, the room was a warm, bright anomaly. A thick Persian rug lined the cold stone floor and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung from the cement ceiling. A dark wood table stood in the center, its polish gleaming. One softly lit alcove held a record player and carefully stored albums, while another held a rack of wine glasses.
Landon smiled in awe. "I forgot about this place. Normally it was locked. It’s the private tasting room. Hold on." He spun away into the dim tunnels and left me to explore the sumptuous hidden room.
When he returned, he took a dusty wine bottle to the alcove with the glasses and produced an opener from a hidden drawer. He opened the wine effortlessly and selected two clean glasses.
"Who opened this room?" I wondered.
Landon grinned as he took out a glass decanter. "I have a feeling if we hadn't found this place on our own, it would have been subtly suggested by my housekeeper. I think she likes you."
I joined him at the table and reached to pour. Landon gently pushed my hand away. He poured the wine into the decanter. "The older the vintage, the higher the cost, the longer it should be given to breathe."
I eyeballed the dark red wine. "How much?"
Landon checked the label and shrugged. "I don't know, a thousand bucks or so?"
I dropped down into a chair and stared. It wasn't easy to forget how insanely rich Landon was, but when it was just the two of us and the mood was playful, his vast fortune was far from my mind. Now it came rushing back.
He didn't notice. Instead, he placed the rubber tarantula in the center of the table and smiled.
I dragged my gaze from the expensive wine. "So you and Andrew played down here a lot?"
"No, we spent most of our time at his house or at The Sand Dollar. The Sand Dollar was an empty store front for a lot of our childhood, and we used it like a giant clubhouse."
"You spent a lot of time with Andrew and his family?" I remembered him mentioning that before.
Landon nodded. "Yeah. Lyla too. The older I got, the less I wanted to go on all the business trips with my parents, so I stayed with Andrew's family. Sometimes I wished they were my real family."
I smiled. "That's how I felt about Anna's family. Her mother was always home. Her father would come home from work at the same time every day. He'd try to be gruff, but he loved his girls. I remember I used to pretend they were my adopted family, and my mom and grandpa were just distant relatives."
"Here's to friends that feel like family." Landon handed me a glass of wine and held his high.
We toasted and I took a tentative sip. The wine was velvety on my tongue and left swirls of so many flavors that my head spun.
"Grape soda with a cherry fizz finish," Landon said. He laughed at my skeptical look. "That's what Andrew and I always say. We used to imitate our fathers at fancy wine tastings."
I took another sip and saw a flash of my own childhood. "Anna and I did elaborate tea parties, even though in middle school, we were probably too old."
"So you grew up with Anna. When did Owen come into the picture?" Landon asked.
I frowned. "High school. Anna introduced us and immediately regretted it."
"Why?"
"Owen was always looking for someone better." The memory was bitter, but the wine helped. "We always did what he wanted when he wasn't too lazy to go out." I slumped back in my chair.
"I can't believe he was all bad," Landon said.
"Why, because you met him?" I asked.
"No, because you dated him." Landon sipped his wine and thought about it. "Besides, the man I met didn't seem all bad."
I sighed and swirled the wine in my glass. "Well, watch out. Owen has a way of proving people who believe in him wrong."