“No, well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“You’ll see.” He smiled as we exited the interstate.
Ten minutes later we turned down a gravel road that led to a private dock in Portland Harbor. I sat forward in my seat, straining to make sense of our destination. Then I saw it. A small ferry at the end of the road with a ramp leading to its deck. We drove up the ramp and onto the boat.
I moved to open my door, but he stopped me.
“No need to get out. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Look.” He pointed out my window, over my shoulder.
It was an island, one of a dozen small, private estates that dotted the water of Portland’s Denton Cove coastline . A house glimmered at the center of it. It was glass and steel, surrounded by towering pine trees and snow-laden cliffs. Waves crashed against a rocky beach, and as the sun began its lazy descent below the horizon, shades of lavender, teal and orange were glinting in the winter light. “Wow,” I said as the ferry pulled up to the dock.
Thomas revved the engine, draped his arm over the back of my seat and winked at me.
“Shall we?” he said, and backed the Jaguar off the ferry and onto a gravel road that wound up to the house.
* * *
“This is dazzling,” I said as we walked into a foyer so large and open it could only be described as an entrance hall.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s just… beautiful.”
The house was modern but crafted from warm, traditional materials like dark wood, marble, glass and stone. The foyer opened into the rest of the house, several steps down leading to a large living space lined with enormous floor to ceiling windows. Oversized leather furniture filled the space, and at its center sat an elegant stone fireplace that was open on three sides.
“Dr. Grayson,” a voice echoed off the marble from across the room. A short woman in a puffy down winter coat approached us, her long gray hair coiled in braids on top of a face that was pink with cold.
“Yes, Mrs. Linsley,” Thomas said, crossing the room to greet her. “Thank you for meeting us.”
“No trouble at all, sir.” She smiled. “No trouble at all. One thing?”
“Yes?”
“I was just outside and it looks like we’ve got a winter storm coming in. Nothing to worry about, you and Ms. Claremont will be quite safe and warm, but I wonder if you might let the staff go early? I know you said you didn’t need them past dinner. But do you think you’ll require them for serving as well?”
“Goodness no. By all means let them go home,” I heard Thomas say as I wandered down the steps into the living room.
“Oh good,” said Mrs. Linsley. “They’ll be grateful, sir. I’ll let them know.”
“Of course.”
“If you’ll head to the kitchen, Chef will fill you in on tonight’s menu, and I’ll take Ms. Claremont to her room.”
“Certainly,” he said.
“Just through there,” she said, pointing down a long hallway. “Now then, Ms. Claremont?”
I met her at the top of the stairs, but she reached my suitcase and garment bag before I could.
“Oh gosh, let me take that,” I said, embarrassed.
“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “You’re here to relax. I think I can carry a little suitcase.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and followed her down another long hallway to what felt like another wing of the house. “Is this like a vacation rental?” I asked. “Or a bed and breakfast, or something?”
“It’s a private estate rental. Owned by an investor who uses it only a few days of the year, so the rest of the time he rents it for private use.”
“Wow. It’s just, wow,” I said lamely.
“It is a lot of wow.” She laughed as we stopped outside a door. “Case in point.” She swung the door open and stepped aside.
More floor to ceiling windows, except these windows were framed with steel beams that climbed high and vaulted, crisscrossing over the ceiling like fingers intertwined. A chandelier dripping with concentric circles of crystal sent sparks of light glittering off the steel and glass and cascading in luminous patterns over a large four-poster bed. Sheer white curtains billowed from the bed, wafting in a breeze that—I hadn’t realized till that moment—was chilling me to the bone. I shivered.
“Oh my Lord. I’m so sorry, Ms. Claremont,” said Mrs. Linsley, racing to an open panel of glass to drag it shut. “We open these windows to freshen the rooms and someone forgot to shut this one.”
“Oh, it’s alright.” I smiled. “It’s incredible, actually. A stunning house.”
“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” she said. “Our contact information is on the refrigerator in the kitchen. Should you need anything just give us a jingle.”