Gene couldn’t help but smile. It was like a real Gothic-style mansion—straight out of a Dracula-style movie. Gargoyles adorned some of the dark grey stonework around the myriad thin windows lining the front of the house. A huge, imposing double door, painted black with a large knocker, was right in front of them.
Cordelia pulled up directly outside and turned to face him. It was the first time she’d looked a little more relaxed since they’d met.
She held out her hand towards the house. ‘Here it is. And I’ll say it before you do. Dracula’s mansion. The inside is much more welcoming than the outside. You’ll love it.’ She glanced nervously over her shoulder towards Rory again. ‘And I’m sure he will too.’ She shot him a big smile. It only seemed a little forced. ‘Welcome to Switzerland, Dr Du Bois.’
SHE WAS BABBLING AGAIN. It was ridiculous. She was a thirty-one-year-old experienced doctor. She had absolutely no reason to be nervous. But somehow the cowboy from Texas with the blond kid had totally knocked her sideways.
She unlocked the front door and switched off the alarm. Rory was tucked up on his dad’s shoulder again. ‘Do you want to put him straight to bed?’ she asked, praying that the beds in the guest quarters were made up.
Gene shook his head. ‘No. I want to wake him up and feed him before letting him sleep right through. I always find it’s best to try and acclimatise as soon as possible.’
She blinked. ‘You move about a lot?’
He shrugged as he glanced around the wide entranceway and huge staircase leading to the upper floors. ‘I have done. Rory will be going to school next year, so I’ll need to have a rethink. But so far he’s been in nursery in the US, the UK and France. He seems to have loved them all.’
She gave a careful nod of her head. ‘Wow. That’s a lot.’ She hesitated then pointed towards the rooms to the right. ‘The formal kind of sitting rooms are that way. But how about we grab the pizzas and go through to the kitchen? The bedrooms are all upstairs, I’ll show you them soon.’
Gene glanced back out to the car. She waved her hand. ‘I can grab the cases.’
‘No way.’ His Texas drawl almost stopped her in her tracks. ‘There’s no way I’m letting you get them. Let me sit Rory down at the table. He’s waking up anyway. Can you get him a drink of water while I grab the cases?’
She nodded quickly and showed him through to the extensive black and white kitchen, with old-fashioned wooden table in the middle, pulling out the high-backed chairs for him to settle Rory.
The little boy watched her with suspicious eyes as she opened the cupboard and nearly pulled out a glass, before changing her mind at the last moment and swapping the glass for a mug. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge then filled the mug and sat down next to him. She couldn’t help but feel nervous. What did you talk to a four-year-old about? And the truth was she was a little curious about this little kid. Would he have an accent like his father? ‘Hi, Rory, I’m Cordelia. I’m going to be working with your daddy.’
She flipped open the lid of the smallest pizza box. ‘We got you ham and cheese pizza. Your dad said you’d like that. Would you like some?’ She pulled a slice of the pizza free and left it for him to grab himself.
Rory watched her with dark eyes for a few moments. It was unnerving what the gaze of a four-year-old could do to her. She didn’t blame him. He’d literally just woken up, and was in completely strange surroundings. And she’d seen those big brown eyes before. Rory definitely had his father’s eyes.
She could hear Gene rolling the suitcases inside then closing the main door behind him. He strode through to the kitchen and sat down next to Rory, ruffling his hair again as he looked at the pizza boxes. ‘Which one is mine? Come on. Eat up, little guy. You must be starving.’
Rory stared at him. ‘Where’s the French fries?’
Cordelia almost laughed out loud—there was a definite hint of a Texan accent, but there was also a little bit more. Gene said they’d stayed in France and the UK too. It seemed the little boy had picked up a little of everything. She stood up and flicked the switch on the kettle and glanced over at Gene. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?’
Gene shook his head. ‘I’ll stick to water, thanks. I want to try and sleep a little tonight.’
Rory stopped staring at her suspiciously now his dad was back and picked up a slice of pizza. He leaned his head on one hand. ‘Where’s my bed?’
Gene glanced at her and Cordelia answered quickly. ‘It’s upstairs. There are two rooms, so you can either go in a room on your own or you can go in with your dad.’
Her stomach gave a little flip. She still didn’t know if the rooms were ready or not. Franc had a housekeeper who kept the place tidy. If he’d told her in advance she would have the rooms ready.
‘Give me five minutes,’ she said, bolting down a bite of pizza and running up the stairs.
She flicked on all the lights as she ran down the corridor, past her own rooms and on to the other guest bedrooms. The door were already open—always a good sign. She checked the first. The bed had been made up in pale blue, with a pile of white towels, some soap and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom next door.
The second room had been made up in pale green. There was a teddy sitting on the bed next to the pillow. It was slightly threadbare, but it was something. She sighed in relief. At some point Franc must have remembered—even if he hadn’t this afternoon. At least the rooms were ready. She could sort out everything else tomorrow.
By the time she got back down the stairs, Rory was back in his father’s arms, a half-eaten slice of pizza on the table.
‘Is he out for the count again?’
Gene nodded. ‘Everything okay upstairs?’ he asked warily.
She nodded. ‘Yes, just checking the rooms. Everything is perfect. I was just worried in case Franc hadn’t mentioned to the housekeeper about your arrival. But he must have remembered. The rooms are fine.’
Gene followed her up the stairs and laid Rory down on the green bed. He sat for a few seconds, stroking his blond hair and just watching him.
It felt like she was intruding. Watching a moment that should be shared just between a parent and child.
He turned to face her. ‘What time are we going to the institute tomorrow? I need to know so I can get us up and ready in time.’
Her brain automatically revised her usual plans. If she told them she was usually there from six a.m. until seven at night they would think she was crazy. Or sad. Or both. ‘I normally go in around eight a.m. I like to be available to check on any of the patients involved in the trials before they get started for the day. Would you be okay if we had breakfast just after seven?’
He nodded. ‘That’s fine. We’ll probably be up early anyway. Your morning will be our afternoon.’
She felt a wave of panic. ‘Rory—what does he eat for breakfast?’
Gene shrugged. ‘Whatever you’ve got. Cereal, toast, eggs. He’s happy with just about anything.’
‘If you write a list tomorrow, the housekeeper will get you whatever you need for him. I’m not sure just how many child-friendly foods we’ll have in the house right now.’
Gene looked over at her in the dim light. She could see the shadows under his eyes. He must be just as tired as Rory was.
A million questions were burning