Page 24 of Cameron's Contract

She bit her lip apologetically.

“That’s fine,” I said, marveling how two sisters could be so different, with Aunt Rose so open minded and Mom prudish. “See that they’re adjoining.”

“That I can do. Come on, Mia, let’s catch up. I’m so happy you’re here. Cameron tells me you’re a strong swimmer. We have a pool.”

Mia flashed Henry a smile then gave a subtle gesture of support to me with her clenched fist.

Henry, Mia, and Shay headed up the central staircase behind Willow.

Shay threw me an expression of utter awe.

I headed off toward the study.

CHAPTER 7

DAD SAT AT his desk with his focus on a small marble plate set before him.

Lifting a few loose tea leaves between his thumb and forefinger, he brought them to his nose to sniff. He was lost in thought.

His office was full of antiques. That writing desk over there had been crafted in India over a hundred years ago. Those book cases had been shipped in from England and could boast an impressive collection of books written by famous poets, collected from his extensive travels.

He could point to that enormous globe on a stand and boast he’d visited most of the countries on there. Though not jungles. He hated snakes, so dense vegetation was strictly avoided.

Dad wasn’t just a formidable business man, he was also a craftsman. I’d often watched him blend teas. As a seasoned teaologist, he created masterpieces that went on to become bestsellers around the world. It was relaxing to watch him work methodically, creating blends and boosting the complexity of flavor, aroma, and taste.

As a teenager he’d been taught the ancient art of the tea ceremony, just as his father had been, and his before him. An extraordinary legacy.

And despite my reluctance towards the business, there’d always been a pride in who we were and what my father had achieved.

“Hey Dad,” I said softly and sat in the chair opposite his desk.

“Cameron?” He roused from his daze. “So glad you came.”

“Henry’s gone up to check on Mom.”

He brushed tea leaves off his fingers. “How was your flight?”

The formality hurt worse than it should.

“Pleasant.”

Turbulent.

“It’s been quite the experience,” he said. “Lots of activity in the house. Your mom will be pleased you’re here.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Not bad, considering.” He nudged the marble plate toward me. “Sniff.”

I leaned in, closed my eyes, and breathed in the aroma. “A long walk in the city. Pine trees, fresh cut grass—” I breathed in another whiff— “Christmas in New York.”

“Good job.”

“Perhaps I can take some home?”

“You’re not staying?”

“I didn’t mean…of course, for as long as I’m needed.”