The door opened, and the person on the other side was not Jack Bestia but a most peculiar little man. With his neatly trimmed mustache, crisp, dark suit, and highly shined shoes, he certainly looked like a butler. But he lacked the hauteur I’d expected. He greeted me with an enormous bright smile and waved both hands, inviting me to step forward.
“Miss Hamelin. Please come in. Yes, please do come right in. Oh, aren’t you lovely? We’re so happy you’re here. I’m Harrison. Let me take your coat.”
“Thank you.” His enthusiasm caught me a bit off-guard. I looked around. “Is Mr. Bestia here?”
“He’ll be with you shortly,” was the answer, but the butler’s eyes dashed to the side when he said it. “I hope you’re hungry. We’ve prepared a lovely lunch for you. Would you accompany me to the dining room?”
He gestured toward another set of doors off the grand foyer and started moving toward them, keeping his eyes on me the whole time as if afraid I might dart away or disappear.
“Is everything… okay?” I asked as we walked together, our shoes echoing on the gleaming marble floors. My reporter’s intuition was pinging big time.
The man gave a nervous laugh. “Oh yes. Everything’s just fine. Excellent. Couldn’t be better.”
He giggled again then cleared his throat, sobering somewhat. “We don’t get many visitors these days. We used to have a lot of company, big parties, many guests, but not so much… er, lately. Anyway, you’re most welcome, and I hope you’ll feel entirely at home.”
He threw open the doors to the dining room, and my jaw literally dropped open. The room itself was gorgeous, with high, coffered ceilings and ornate woodwork. But it was the long, polished wood dining table that had me enthralled.
Or rather, what wasonit. Someone had laid out a feast. The table looked like it would seat about sixteen people, and the food displayed upon it looked like it would feed at least that many.
I turned to the butler, baffled. “Is there a party today then? I didn’t realize Mr. Bestia would be hosting a luncheon.”
Harrison stared at me. “Party? Here? Oh no. No. This is for you. The chef, Monsieur Laplume, heard of your visit, and not knowing your dietary preferences, wanted to make sure there was something available that you would enjoy for lunch.”
I nodded slowly, still trying to figure out what was going on. Harrison led me to a chair at the end of the table and pulled it out for me. The place setting was lovely with gold-trimmed china, real silver flatware, and a crystal water glass. I couldn’t help but notice there was only one of each.
“Is Mr. Bestia not joining me for lunch?”
Harrison’s face fell, and he bit one side of his lip. “No, I’m sorry. He’s busy… writing.” He said the last word as if it had just come to him in a shiny bubble above his head.
“I see.” And I did.
Writing time was sacred, Jack’s more than most, as far as I was concerned. When a writer got into the zone, it was a special thing, and I certainly didn’t want to break his flow.
However… I only had two hours to conduct the interview, at least if we’d be sticking to the agreement between his publisher and my paper. Maybe he’d give me extra time to make up for the delay.
The food was exquisite, and when the chef came in and presented a bottle of very expensive-looking wine he promised was the perfect complement to the meal, I was sorely tempted to indulge.
“No thank you,” I declined reluctantly. It might have calmed my steadily building nerves, but I wanted to be at the top of my game when meeting Jack this time.
As an infrequent drinker, my tolerance was very low. The last thing I wanted to do was show up for the interview tipsy. What kind of impression would that make?
Probably a hell of a lot better than the last one I’d left him with, but the bar there wasverylow.
When lunch was over, I expected to be introduced to Jack, but instead Harrison handed me off to a woman called Mrs. Potts. She was a motherly figure with rosy cheeks, and a broad face, and a pronounced New England accent. I liked her immediately.
“It’s so lovely to meet you dear. I’m the housekeeper here. Would you like a tour?” Mrs. Potts offered.
Discreetly, I checked my watch. No doubt a tour would be fascinating, but I’d been here over an hour and still hadn’t met Jack.
Was that weird? Or was it just how billionaires conducted their business? If we didn’t get started soon, I wouldn’t have adequate time to carry out a proper interview.
I smiled at the woman. “I’d love that, but perhaps I could see the houseafterthe interview. I’m very eager to begin.”
Mrs. Potts clasped her hands in front of her in a wringing motion and gave the grand stairway an uneasy side-glance.
“Jack will be down very soon, I’m sure. While you wait, perhaps you’d like to take a few photos. I understand you’ll be needing some for the article?”
“Oh yes. I guess that would be a good use of time… at least until Mr. Bestia is ready.” This time I wasn’t so subtle when I glanced at my watch. “I do hope it’s soon.”
