“When is the blue-haired countess joining us?” Augusta asked him.
“In three days, Grandma Campbell,” Andy answered. It was what Sybil’s children called her now, and Augusta liked it. She had taken them into her heart long since, particularly Charlie, whom she thought was an endearing imp, and she liked Andy and Caroline too.
“She’ll have to give up that hair color when she inherits the title. Are you engaged yet?”
He guffawed. “We’re too young, Grandma.” Sybil smiled. Her children finally had grandparents after all.
“Nonsense,” Augusta responded. “How old are you now? Twenty? You should be married by next year, and she’ll wind up a spinster if she’s not careful. I was engaged two weeks after I came out, and married at eighteen. You young people are too slow these days. You’ll all wind up spinsters and fussy old men who never marry,” she warned him and everyone at the table laughed, thinking of Angus, who was just that. “I like her,” Augusta added. “You should get engaged. And you too,” she said pointedly to Caroline, who still had to finish college and wanted to go to graduate school. None of them had the least bit of interest in getting married, which was appropriate for them—but wouldn’t have been for the Butterfields in 1919, which was where they were. In nine days, it would be 1920 for them.
—
Christmas was as beautiful as it had been for the last three years together. Both families blended perfectly, exchanged presents, played charades, looked elegant at dinner, danced in the ballroom, and spent a memorable holiday with each other. And two days later, Quinne arrived from Scotland, with her hair slightly bluer, and a shocking pink streak in it. She looked a little more grown up, and had two new tattoos, and if possible her skirts were a fraction shorter. Everyone was delighted to see her, including Augusta. Quinne had just spent Christmas at Castle Creagh with her parents and siblings, which she said was very boring. She said even the ghost in the chapel tower hadn’t bothered to show up, and had probably died of boredom. She was delighted to join the Gregorys and their extended family in San Francisco. She and Andy were going to go skiing in Squaw Valley for a week on New Year’s Day, but they were planning to spend New Year’s Eve with everyone at home. And so were Caroline and Max, whom the Butterfields had graciously included in the group for Caroline’s sake. After that, Caroline and Max were joining his family in Mexico for a few days before they went back to school in Los Angeles.
Sybil told her children, but not the others, that they were expecting guests from Paris, and she hoped that they would show Laure around the city while she and Blake entertained her father. So far, no one had complained, and the kids said they would take Laure under their wing. Sybil and Gwyneth still had not warned the others about Samuel yet and had decided to see what happened when they arrived. And Blake still disapproved of the plan.
—
The day that Samuel and Laure arrived in San Francisco was bright and sunny, as San Francisco often was in December, although it was cool. But it had been snowing in Paris when they left, so the weather was a pleasant change for them. Sybil was home waiting for them anxiously, when Samuel pulled up at the gate in a rented white station wagon, and Sybil went out to the courtyard to let him in herself. He parked the car and got out, looking very French in a tweed jacket and turtleneck with a windbreaker over it, jeans, and hiking boots, and his salt and pepper hair was tousled after the flight. He was taller than Sybil had expected him to be, looked ten years younger than he was, and didn’t seem like a professor to her. He smiled as soon as he saw her, while a pretty young girl got out of the front seat. She was petite and very delicate looking with long blond hair and big blue eyes, and she looked instantly familiar to Sybil, but she wasn’t sure why. Sybil shook hands with both of them, as they gathered up their bags and followed her into the house. They were tired from the flight.
“You’re so kind to let us stay here,” Samuel said warmly, as Laure looked around the long front hall with interest, and glanced up at the Butterfield portraits. And before she could say another word to the Saint Martins, Sybil saw Angus walking toward them, with his enormous English bulldog trotting along at his side. He smiled when he saw Sybil, and glanced at her guests. He was wearing a velvet smoking jacket and matching slippers, and smoking the new pipe she had given him for Christmas.
“Sorry, dear girl, I can’t find my bagpipes. Have you seen them somewhere?” He seemed slightly confused, as Sybil walked hastily toward him and gently turned him around toward a door to the back stairs, just as Phillips emerged carrying his bagpipes. Phillips was in full livery, and Sybil was taken aback. She had never seen him around the house in the daytime, only serving dinner at night.
“Found them, sir,” he told Angus, ignoring Sybil.
“Excellent!” Angus said, and followed him through the door with a wave at Sybil and her guests. She was stunned to have seen Angus and Phillips in the front hall, and turned to Samuel and Laure to see their reaction and if they had seen them too. Samuel was smiling and it was obvious he had, which answered her question about whether they would choose to be visible or not. Decidedly they were going to be open with him, or Angus was. It was a start.
“Sorry, it gets a little chaotic here at times,” she said, trying to be nonchalant. Angus normally never wandered around the house either, and certainly not in the daytime with his dog.
“Your father?” Samuel asked, looking amused, although the elderly gentleman looked more like her grandfather, and had seemed ancient but good-humored.
“Actually, no. Not really.” She dodged the question, and they had just walked past Angus’s portrait on the way to the grand staircase, but neither Samuel nor Laure had noticed. “Are you hungry?” She stopped to ask them. “Would you like something to eat?”
“We ate on the flight,” Samuel said, still grinning about the old gentleman looking for his bagpipes. “You run a very formal home,” he commented to Sybil, referring to Phillips’s white tie and tails. There was no way to explain it to him, so she just nodded, and they headed up the stairs, and passed Alicia and José, who were in jeans and T-shirts, carrying cleaning utensils, which made Phillips’s uniform when they’d seen him seem ever more incongruous. Her guests said nothing as they looked around.
She took them to two large, beautiful guest bedrooms on the third floor, made sure they had what they needed, and said she’d be in her office down the hall, and told them which room it was.
“It’s a beautiful home,” Samuel complimented her, and Laure smiled at her shyly.