Chapter 26
Grant
It was warm the day of the polo match. It was on a private island off of the coast. Grant and Kate drove there with her grandmother. Stefan had packed them a giant picnic basket. It was a stunning piece filled with actual china and silver.
“Wouldn’t paper plates be better?” Grant had asked.
Margaret looked aghast. “I don’t know how you did things in the Marines, but here, we eat on real plates.”
He didn’t think that she had quite forgiven him for what had happened the first night he was at the Holbrook estate. Kate’s grandmother had slapped his hand away when he tried to help her into the car. Now, she sat in the back of the vehicle, kicking his seat.
“Gram, stop it,” Kate snapped, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Grant saw the old woman scowl in the mirror.
“Why is he sitting up front?” Margaret asked. “I always sit up front.”
“You’ve only gone once,” Kate said, sounding exasperated. “Be nice. Grant is too tall to sit in the back of this car.”
“How is polo played, anyway?” Grant asked Kate, trying to change the subject. “I know they use horses.”
“He doesn’t even know what polo is!” her grandmother said loudly.
“Neither do you!” Kate hollered back. “You always complain that you have no idea what’s going on, then you drink too much and lie down on the bleachers.”
“This is outside?” Grant said.
“Yes. That’s why you need a hat.” Grant had a hat of his father’s that Stefan had given him. It was a light-colored straw hat with a beige-and-navy band.
“I look like an imbecile,” he said as he stepped out of the car when they arrived at the venue.
“You don’t want to develop heat stroke,” Kate told him. She had her own elaborate straw hat on. It was festooned with ribbons and went with her white jeans and linen blouse. Gus was able to come too, and he hopped out of the car sporting his new collar and sterling-silver dog tags.
Grant stretched his shoulders. The first set of his new clothes had come in, and he had to admit, having something specifically tailored to his body was a treat. He saw Margaret struggling with the picnic hamper, and he deftly plucked it out of the old woman’s hands and headed toward the bleachers.
“I had it,” she said, following behind him.
“Well, I have it now,” he told her.
Someone blocked their path.
“Slumming it with the masses, darlings?” It was Brandy, the Scottie Dog Groomer and Pet Boutique owner. She and Kate exchanged air kisses, then she did the same to Grant. “And who is this handsome boy? Is that Gus?”
The corgi wagged his tail at her. A photographer came over, and Brandy insisted that they all have their picture taken.
“Smile for charity!” she said. Kate made a gagging noise when Brandy went to air kiss some of the other attendees.
“I’m not sitting next to her,” said Kate’s grandmother.
“Me neither,” Kate said.
Grant picked the basket back up and hauled it up into the wide granite bleachers cut into the hillside. There was enough room to sit cross-legged on a step and still spread out. They heard a whistle.
“The match is about to start,” Kate said.
The two four-person teams faced off. The horses were sleek with braided manes and tails and elaborate tack that crisscrossed around their fronts and under the saddles.
“It’s to keep the horses’ heads and necks from moving around too much and smacking the rider in the jaw. Though that still happens occasionally,” Kate told Grant.
“There better be something exciting at this match,” Margaret said as she dished out the salads and sandwiches Stefan had packed.
Grant ate as he watched the match. Kate’s grandmother cracked open a silver thermos of some sort of mixed drink and was pouring generous glasses for herself.
Grant was sort of following the match. He could tell that you got a point once the ball went into the opposing team’s goal, but other than that, he didn’t really know the intricacies of the sport. People were applauding at odd times, but mostly, the attendees milled around and talked to one another after the first twenty minutes of the match.
“We aren’t walking anywhere,” Kate said. “They know who you are. They will all want to come talk to you.”
And indeed, they did. There was a parade of people dressed in clothes that looked casual but clearly cost more than the average American’s salary.
“This is Nancy Holbrook,” Kate introduced a woman with reddish hair in a bob who looked slightly older than Grant’s father.
“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she said to Grant, giving him a hug. “Your father and his brother, Jack, were so excited when they finally found you. We are all so grateful to have you with us!” She was so warm and genuine that Grant couldn’t help but like her.
“Lucky you,” she said to Margaret, “getting to spend a beautiful afternoon with Connecticut’s most eligible and fascinating bachelor.” She smiled at Grant and winked.
“Yes, he is quite astounding, isn’t he? And such a gentleman,” Margaret replied, wavering as she stood up.
“You all will come to my little dinner party next week, won’t you? I’ve got a new recipe I’ve been wanting to try out. It’s something simple and fun.”
“She does all of it herself,” Kate told Grant. “She’s a fabulous chef.”
“I’m merely a hobbyist,” Nancy demurred. “Maybe you can convince your father to come. It would be good for him to spend more time away from the office. I feel like we never see him.”
“We’ll try,” Grant promised.
“Your aunt organized this event,” Kate told him. “She’s very involved in philanthropy, along with the Holbrook Foundation.”
Nancy waved her away with a laugh. “It’s nothing, something fun on this spring day. Enjoy yourselves! I must catch up with some other people, work the crowd,” she said with a smile.
Several other people Grant’s father’s age and older came up, and Kate made introductions. Everyone there seemed to know each other.
“I’ve heard about your watch,” one man who introduced himself as Adam Davenport said. He had a head of thick white hair. “I’m quite intrigued. I have a bit of a collection myself. Nothing compared to your father’s collection, of course.”
“Where are all the people our age?” Grant asked Kate when there was a lull in visitors.
“They are either still at university or working or just off. There’s a ton of art events in southern Europe right now, so a lot of them are over there. Everyone usually comes back for the summer. We’ll probably spend some time on Martha’s Vineyard. They’ll fly in for a few weeks to spend time with family.”
When the match was finally called, Nancy waved them down. “Come take a picture.”
Grant set the picnic hamper down and followed a wobbly Kate to the podium where the players and the press milled around.
“Kate Thurlow!” a rich baritone voice said.
Grant watched as a handsome man in a polo uniform strode over to Kate, picked her up, twirled her around, and then kissed her. Grant felt his lips curl back. He had his gun in a holster on the small of his back, and he resisted the urge to grab it and shoot the man in the head. Kate giggled and blushed as she tried to wriggle out of the polo player’s grasp.
“We were so good together, Kate. Come with me. I’m going to Monaco to play,” he said with a thick South American accent.
“I can’t—”
“Who the hell are you?” Grant interrupted.
“Goodness,” said Kate’s grandmother, fanning herself.
“I’m the man she’s going to marry,” the polo player said with a mischievous grin.
“The hell you are!” Grant snarled.
Kate finally pushed the man off of her.
“Fernando’s just being dramatic. He’s from Argentina. He can’t help himself,” she told Grant.
Grant was tired of these men Kate had a history with popping out of the woodwork, and he decided then and there that if this rich Argentinian said anything to him about being a conquistador or a murderer, he would break his jaw.
“Fernando, this is Grant, Mr. Holbrook’s—my boss’s—son.”
Fernando held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Grant shook it but did not return the smile.
“Kate and I are very good friends,” Fernando stated. “I believe we will be seeing quite a lot of each other, Mr. Holbrook.”
Not if Grant had anything to say about it.
“Come in for a picture,” Nancy called to them. They crowded in front of the camera.
“Smile!” Nancy said.
Grant scowled. “Let’s go,” he said.
“But I need to talk to—”
“I don’t care. We’re leaving. Get in the car.”
He snatched up the picnic hamper and Gus and stalked off, the two women following behind him. He loaded up the car, and Kate and her grandmother climbed in, and they set off.
The sky was overcast, the setting sun giving the clouds a faint glow. Kate chewed on her lip and stared out the window. Her grandmother snored softly in the back seat.
“Stop crying!” he yelled at Kate as she sniffled next to him.
“Why are you so mean to me?” she sobbed.
Grant was at the end of his patience, and he was feeling hurt.
He snapped at her, “Are there any other men you’ve slept with that I should be aware of?”
“What business is it of yours?” Kate shot back. “I’m sure you were plowing through every brothel you came across while you were in the Marines.”
“No,” Grant said, “I wasn’t.” He had both hands gripping the wheel of the car.
“Pull over!” Kate shouted.
Grant wrenched the wheel of the car onto the shoulder of the road. Kate threw the door open, crying.
“You are a horrible person. I have the worst taste in men.”
“You are such a bully,” Kate’s grandmother said, hitting him over the head with her pocket book.
Grant ignored her, got out of the car, and went over to Kate.
“Just leave me here,” she said, crying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Kate… it’s just… I…”
She sagged forward, and he reached for her, thinking she was going to faint. But she threw up all over the ground instead. As she hunched over, crying, he stroked her hair.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
She kept crying, and Grant picked her up in his arms then carried her to the car. He placed her in the back seat and closed the door. He drove the rest of the way in silence with Kate leaning against her grandmother, her mascara smeared messily around her eyes.
They arrived back to New Cardiff, and Grant dropped Kate and her grandmother off at their house. He helped the maid walk the elderly woman into the house and up the stairs. He didn’t say goodbye to Kate, just slunk out the door and returned to his father’s house. Walter was there, eating dinner, when he got back.
“How was it?” he asked jovially.
“It was fine. I was a main attraction. Jack’s wife, Nancy, said we had to come to her dinner party.”
“I’ll probably be on a business trip, so you’ll have to represent.”
“She wants me to make you come too.”
Walter grimaced.
“Is that all you do?” Grant demanded. “Work?”
“That’s how you were so successful in the military,” Walter countered. “You understand what it takes to succeed.”
“Yes,” Grant said, “and I regret it. An institution doesn’t love you back. It doesn’t care about your sacrifice. It will take everything you can give and more, then it will cast you by the wayside.”
“I just can’t,” his father said. “It’s who I am. It’s how I built this business.”
“Fine,” Grant said.
He got up and left the table, ignoring his father’s words to come sit back down. He didn’t want to hear any more. These people were all the same—too much money, no values. He thought about Kate. He knew he shouldn’t judge her. He wanted her to be perfect. She was perfect. She was everything he didn’t know he wanted. He looked through the trees through his window, imagining he could see to her grandmother’s house.
He changed into dark clothes he could move around in and put on his boots and a jacket. Leaving his corgi asleep on his bed, he crept downstairs and headed off. As he reached the edge of the light thrown from the porch, he felt for his gun. Check. Knife, check. He didn’t want anyone surprising him. He still didn’t know what to think of the letter. It was strange to send someone in the middle of the night just to deliver a note. But then his father was single-minded and overbearing. Maybe his birth mother felt she had no choice.
He made his way silently through the woods. He paused every so often to see if anyone was out there, but he appeared to be alone. He got to a tall metal fence on the property. He took a running leap and caught his palms on the top then pulled himself up and over to land in a crouch on the other side. Grant didn’t think he’d tripped an alarm, so he kept going through the trees. They thinned out, then he was past the pool house and finally at the back of Kate’s house.
None of the rooms were lit up. He saw one that had a balcony on it. Maybe that was her room. He used the planters and the decorative ledges to scale up the wall, and he hoisted himself over the balcony and landed silently on the balls of his feet. Carefully, hoping he didn’t set off an alarm, he slowly used his knife to jimmy the French door open and slipped into the room. Jackpot.
He saw Kate sprawled asleep on the bed. She had pulled off her shirt and bra then was probably too tired from the sun and the alcohol to finish getting ready for bed and had lain down to rest her eyes then fallen asleep. Her hair was spread out around her. The sliver of moonlight was just enough for Grant to make out the curves of her breasts, the nipples perky in the slight chill of the room. He felt himself grow hard.
He took off his shirt and pants and pulled down his boxers and kicked them away. Then he slowly eased her panties off, breathing in her scent. It was driving him wild. He couldn’t contain himself, and he straddled her.