What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(41)

“Is Andrew still here?” she asked.

“Yes, thankfully. He tends to the grounds and acts as our chauffeur when we need him.”

Carmen nodded, pretending to scour her memories. “Didn’t they have a son?”

“Yes.” Lawrence shrugged. “I really don’t know much about him.”

Griff believed him. Lawrence was the sort of man who would consider the housekeeper’s son beneath his notice.

Before Carmen could ask another question, there was the light sound of footsteps. Griff glanced toward the doorway to watch as a thin, waiflike woman wearing one of those designer dresses that looked plain but cost a thousand dollars drifted into the room. Her skin was pale and her dark auburn hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were unfocused.

A medicated zombie.

“Ah. Here’s Vi,” Lawrence said in bluff tones, moving to wrap an arm around his wife’s narrow shoulders. A warning? “Look who’s come for a visit. Little Carrie.” His gaze returned to Carmen. “Although you’re not so little now, are you?”

Vi didn’t seem particularly joyful at the reunion. Instead, she blinked, looking confused.

“Why on earth are you standing in the kitchen?”

Carmen gave a lift of her hands. “I was just looking around my old home.”

There was another awkward pause, and then Vi managed a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“What a nice surprise. We should have some coffee,” she said, as if she’d just been struck by divine inspiration. “Or tea if you prefer.”

“Not here.” Lawrence forced out a chuckle. “We’ll go into the salon and be served like civilized people.”

Vi nodded. The obedient zombie.

“If you want,” she said, turning to head out of the kitchen. “This way.”

Lawrence remained. “I’ll find the housekeeper and get her started on the coffee,” he said.

Carmen remained in the center of the kitchen, her expression hard with determination. Griff, however, captured her gaze and gave a nod of his head toward the door. Viola Jacobs would be much more likely to speak openly if she was alone with Carmen. Besides, this was a perfect opportunity to force Lawrence to answer his questions.

Carmen hesitated, as if trying to decide if she was going to insist on being the one to interrogate her uncle. She was the journalist, after all. Then she heaved a resigned sigh.

Clearly, she sensed that her uncle was too jumpy in her presence to let down his guard. For now, she’d have to content herself with trying to drill through her aunt’s medicated haze.

Waiting until Carmen disappeared through the door, Griff glanced toward the older man.

“If you don’t mind I’d like a tour around the estate,” he said, the words more a command than a request.

Lawrence frowned. “There’s not much to see. My family didn’t invest in more than a few acres of land. Just enough to keep their private stables.”

Griff spread his hands. “I’m just looking for an excuse to stretch my legs, to be honest,” he said. “You know how it is after a couple days of traveling.”

The man hesitated. He obviously wanted to say no. For whatever reason, he was unnerved by the return of his niece and wanting to get rid of them as quickly as possible.

But he was a businessman. And he wasn’t willing to insult Griffin Archer, famous entrepreneur and current darling of Nasdaq.

“Certainly. I’ll have a word with the housekeeper and grab my coat.” He nodded his square head toward the door. “I’ll meet you on the back terrace.”

Griff exited the house and strolled across the wide veranda. His brows lifted at the magnificent sight that spread before him.

There was the usual sunken garden that was bedded for the winter, as well as a pool and tennis courts, but it was the rolling grounds that captured his attention. A layer of frost coated the pastures and the distant hills, shimmering like diamonds beneath the morning sunlight. It emphasized the quiet peace that surrounded the estate, reminding him of his grandparents’ farm.

Beautiful.

Fifteen minutes passed before Lawrence at last joined him on the terrace. The older man had pulled on a leather coat and managed to compose his expression into a polite mask.

Griff had seen the same expression a hundred times, in a hundred boardrooms.

The professional business face.

“Would you like to see the old stables?” Lawrence led Griff toward the steps without giving him time to answer. “I’ve had them converted into a garage.”

Griff quickly followed the man off the terrace and with long strides was walking at his side.

“This is a lovely estate,” he said.

“Yes.” They used a pathway that circled the edge of the driveway and headed toward the long, white single-story building that was near the old paddocks. His steps were slow and deliberately casual. Just two men strolling together. “Carrie said that she was in the area, but she didn’t say why,” he at last spoke the words that had no doubt been trembling on his lips.

Griff shoved his hands in the pockets of the new trench coat he’d bought at the shop in the hotel. At some point he needed to get home so he could pack a suitcase. He’d rather spend the money for a plane ticket to California than to face the holiday shopping madness trying to buy new clothes.