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A Sip of You(65)

By:Sorcha Grace


William was the first to pull away again and he looked at his watch then back at me with a mock chastising expression on his face. “Catherine, we need to leave or we’re going to be late. Come on, grab your coat and your gloves and let’s go. I’m double-parked out front. I totally forgot. That’s what your bewitching lips do to me.” He was grinning now and I watched as he subtly adjusted himself, obviously coping with the effects of our yummy make-out session.

“Me and my bewitching lips are ready. Give me just a sec,” I laughed. I grabbed my stuff and we were off.

I was really excited to see where William had lived for the latter part of his childhood and to get to know his family better. He drove us himself in the black Range Rover and, even in the middle of winter, it was a lovely trip up Sheridan Road. The frozen lake was a dark expanse off to the right and the houses got grander and grander as we went north. William pointed out different places of interest, but mostly he held my hand and we enjoyed companionable silence.

It wasn’t quite five and already dusk when we arrived at the Smith residence in Lake Forest. We turned into a gated drive that was walled on either side. William rolled down his window and punched a code into a keypad, and then the gate slowly rolled open. I looked out and spotted a security camera high in a tree next to the drive. Given all that William had been through, I guessed the Smiths had to take precautions.

William continued along the private road through the heavily wooded grounds until we reached a stone drive that led us to the front of a very large red-brick Georgian house surrounded by an expansive snow-covered lawn. I could see the lake off in the distance. His aunt and uncle were on the front steps to meet us, one black lab and two goldens trailing behind them.

“Catherine!” William’s aunt said, embracing me warmly when I stepped out of the car. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Smith.”

“Call me Abigail, please. And you remember Charles?” She led me to William’s uncle who had been shaking William’s hand and slapping him on the shoulder.

Charles shook my hand. “Good to see you again, Catherine. This is Atlas,” he said with his hand rubbing the ears of the black lab. “And that’s Blanche and Ophelia. They’re a hopeless lot of lunatics, but we adore them.” I stroked one of the golden retrievers on the head and she wagged her big tail in response. “Please come in and get warmed up and have a cocktail. Annabelle will have dinner ready shortly.”

“Annabelle’s the cook and housekeeper,” William said, following me into the house after Abigail and Charles and the dogs. “She’s been with them for years. I can’t remember a time without her.”

We stepped into a large, elegantly decorated foyer and an older African-American woman came quickly down the hall and hugged William hard. “You don’t come home enough, Willie,” she scolded him.

“Annabelle, it’s good to see you too.”

She pulled away and studied me. She wore a grey dress with a white apron. “You must be Catherine,” she said with a nod. “About time William brought a girl home to meet us. About time.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Annabelle.” I held out my hand, but to my surprise, she engulfed me in a hug. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and freshly baked dough.

“I better get back to dinner before I burn it,” she said, hurrying back to the kitchen.

“She’s never burned a meal in her life,” Abigail said, and I realized everyone had been watching Annabelle’s reaction to me. I hoped I’d passed the test.

We had cocktails in the immense living room which felt intimate despite its size thanks to the careful groupings of furniture. The Smiths were clearly serious appreciators of very expensive antiques. Their taste in art rivaled William’s too, and I wondered if Abigail and Charles had been early influencers on his collecting.

I was a little nervous about saying and doing the right things, but the Smiths were charming, easy going, and relaxed. They were interested in my work and how I’d grown up in California, but they didn’t pry into my past or barrage me with questions. William sat next to me on the couch with his arm resting behind me along its back. Every so often he’d touch my hair or knead my shoulder, but for the most part he just smiled and observed as the three of us talked. The half hour seemed like no more than minutes, and then Annabelle called us into dinner.

After a delicious meal of rib-eye steak, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and buttery dinner rolls, Abigail offered to give me a tour of the house before dessert and coffee. I looked over at William who subtly nodded and I eagerly accepted her offer, not just to see the house but to spend a little time alone with her too.