“Can you see it from the airplane?” Toby asked in surprise.
Molly chuckled. She’d already discovered Toby was very literal. “No, honey, I just meant you could see the area. You’ll see your new home later.”
“I miss my old home,” Toby said sadly.
Molly hugged him to her, as much as the seat belts allowed. “I know you do. But you’ll like this one, too, I’m sure.” She hoped she wasn’t lying.
“Okay,” Toby whispered.
She held his hand while the plane landed and then taxied to the gate. Since he’d brought nothing on board with him, they were ready to exit the plane at once. When Richard indicated they should go ahead, Molly led Toby off the plane and to their baggage claim. She was sure the Andersons were right behind them, but she didn’t turn to look for them, not wanting to give Richard that satisfaction.
Then that deep voice came over her shoulder. “If you’ll point out your bags, Molly, I’ll get them off the carousel.”
“Thank you. They haven’t come by yet.”
When she saw her bags, along with Toby’s, she pointed them out. A skycap loaded them on his pushcart.
“Molly, will you keep an eye on Toby and my mother while I go get my car?”
She heard the words not said. “And please don’t make my mother cry.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied.
Molly led them to a bench where they could sit until Richard arrived with the car.
Much to her surprise, he pulled up in a medium-size SUV and got out, opening the back for the luggage. She had assumed he’d drive a Mercedes or a Lexus, since he was supposed to be rich. After she got Mrs. Anderson and Toby settled, she followed him into the back seat.
“Thank you for getting them loaded,” Richard said as he slid behind the wheel.
“Thank you for loading the luggage.” It seemed the only polite thing to say in response to his remark. Had he thought she’d remain standing on the sidewalk, unable to move without his guidance?
He flashed her a look in the rearview mirror. She smiled, determined to let him know she wasn’t bothered by his attitude.
She turned her attention to the sights outside her window, pointing out interesting things to Toby.
“Where’s the ocean?” Toby whispered.
“Um, I don’t think there is an ocean nearby, Toby.”
Toby appeared startled. “They don’t have an ocean?”
“Actually, we do,” Richard said over his shoulder, “but it’s on the southern part of the state, which is about five or six hours away.”
“Oh,” Toby said softly.
“Did you go to the ocean a lot?” his uncle asked.
“Yes, with Mommy,” Toby said.
“Susan always liked the ocean,” Mrs. Anderson said, surprising everyone.
“Yes, Mom, she did.”
No one spoke after that exchange.
When they got off the freeway, they turned into a neighborhood with large houses and big trees. The house whose driveway they pulled into was the biggest of them all. Both Molly and Toby stared at it in surprise.
Richard looked over his shoulder. “You can get out now. We’re home.”
Toby turned to look at Molly, panic on his face.
Molly squeezed his hand. “It’s all right,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. The house was huge, but the stone façade made it look cold and unwelcoming. The air, too, was cold and windy, furthering the impression.
Molly was going to have to buy a coat. Good thing she was earning a lot of money on this job.
Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Come on, Toby. It’ll be fun. We can explore.”
She helped the little boy out of the vehicle and shivered as a cold wind blew.
“Hurry inside so you’ll be warm,” Richard said.
Since they parked in the driveway beside the side entrance, Molly assumed he meant that door. She opened the door and led Toby inside. They were standing in a small entryway next to the kitchen.
Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as three people rushed forward. Toby pressed against Molly, but the male and two female strangers passed them by and greeted the Andersons.
The younger woman took Mrs. Anderson by the arm and led her away. The man, tall and wiry, was sent to the vehicle to bring in the luggage. Richard consulted with the other woman.
Molly and Toby stood there, not sure what they were supposed to do.
Richard stepped toward them. “I’ll show you your rooms if you’ll follow me.”
Molly nodded and followed him, Toby clinging tightly to her hand. No wonder. He had sounded as remote as a hotel employee. They went up a grand stairway to the second floor. He turned left and led them down the hall to two rooms side by side.
“These rooms are actually connected by a door inside. I thought you might want to leave the door open the first few nights Toby is here, Molly, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t. That’s a good idea, right, Toby?”
Richard opened a door. “This will be your room, Toby.”
Molly walked into the room with the little boy. “This is great, isn’t it, Toby? You have a lot of windows and you can look at the garden behind the house. When it’s warmer, you may be able to play there.”
The man nodded. “Of course.” Then he crossed to another door and opened it. “This will be your room, Molly.”
It was beautiful, not what she expected. She laughed to herself as she realized nannies were housed in the attic only in gothic novels.
“Thank you, it’s lovely, Richard.”
He frowned, as if she’d said something wrong. What could it have been? She’d smiled at him, trying to be gracious.
“Yes, well, I need to see about my mother. If you need anything, please ask Delores or Louisa. They’ll be glad to help you.”
So they’d already been handed off to the staff. Molly nodded in response, but she didn’t say anything. If she’d spoken, she might’ve said the wrong thing. The man had been kind to Toby when he’d shown him the room, but it was clear he was going about his business as usual.
One thing was certain: Richard Anderson did not have a kind heart.
One thing was certain: Richard was irritated with Molly. Condemnation fairly glowed in her green eyes. He had a lot of things on his plate. He’d brought her here to help Toby settle in okay. That was her job. And he wasn’t going to be chastised for doing his job by someone he’d hired.
He shook his head as he went to the other end of the house where his mother’s suite was located. Tapping lightly on the door, he stood waiting for it to open.
Louisa came to the door.
“I’d like to see my mother. Is she asleep?” he asked.
“No, sir.” Louisa stepped aside and swung the door wide. Then she silently made her way out.
Richard took the chair opposite his mother, in a sitting room professionally done in southwestern decor. He noticed she looked tired, drawn, much the same as she’d looked for the past year and a half. The depression had taken its toll on her. And now, the funeral.
Before he could speak, she said, “You know,