Savage Pride

5

Hopefully, that’s the case. Zeno is such a mystery that I would never presume to know his intentions. But saying as much serves no purpose, so I merely nod. The approach of a vehicle into the circle drive snags our attention. When it parks near the front door, I see that Carter Bishop, owner of the neighboring estate, is behind the wheel. He exits the driver’s side and immediately turns toward us, meeting us halfway to his car. “Gia, how are you?” His kind eyes linger on my sister. I don’t know him well since he moved in after I left home, but my family is longtime friends with his live-in staff, the Larsons, who worked for the previous owner as well. Our cottages are both near the property line, making them our closest neighbors. Gia has mentioned Carter’s name only briefly in passing, but judging by the pink glow of her cheeks, her interest in him is more substantial than I’d been led to believe. “I’m doing well, thank you,” she offers, her gaze flitting to his, then down to her hands. “Carter … Mr. Bishop … this is Luisa, my sister. I can’t recall if you two have met.” It’s easy to offer him a warm smile as I grasp his outstretched hand. He has an openness to him that is disarming. “I believe we have, but it’s been a while.” “Yes,” he agrees. “And please call me Carter. It’s great to have you here. I mean, not the circumstances, of course, but I’m sure Gia appreciates having you visit.” His nervous bumbling is endearing, if not a touch surprising, considering his age and station in life. I’ve found most middleaged, affluent men are usually dripping with unearned confidence. I think I like Carter Bishop. “The timing was a bit coincidental—I already had my trip planned—but I’m glad I could be here to help. There’s a lot to be done.” “I assumed as much.” His face sobers. “That’s why I wanted to check in with Z and Elena. I want to offer any help I can provide.” I haven’t had a chance to think about Elena, Silvano’s widow. My heart sinks at how bereft she must be. No matter how poorly my friendship soured with Z, I will always have fond thoughts for his mother. She’s a beautiful person, and I hate that she’s grieving. A car door shuts, and I peer over Carter’s shoulder to where an elegant woman now stands haughtily next to the car. It’s hard to say if she’s in her thirties or forties. I’ve found the wealthy have access to some rather impressive age-defying treatments, so it can be hard to tell, especially at a distance. Her blond hair frames her face in professionally coifed waves that rest a few inches below her shoulders. She’s wearing a powder-blue skirt suit perfectly tailored to her thin frame and an expression of unquestionable superiority. “Carter, dear. I’m sure the staff are busy today, and the De Rossis will need our company far more than these two need our interference with their day.” Her voice is more mature than I would have thought, making me lean toward a guess of mid-forties. He flashes a thin smile. “I’d better get going. I’m sure Z will refuse any help, but please let me know if I can do anything.” “Of course.” Gia grins. “I’ll make sure to reach out if we need anything.” We both watch silently as Carter joins the woman at the front door. They disappear into the house when greeted by someone inside. I turn narrowed eyes on my sister once we are alone. “Gia Antonia Banetti, what in the blazes was that?” Her eyes widen innocently when she looks my way. “What do you mean? That was Carter Bishop, the neighbor.” “I know who he is. Since when does he make you blush like a schoolgirl seeing her favorite boy band?” This is the first time in my adult life that I can recall my sister ever showing genuine romantic interest in anyone. She’s not the dating app type and doesn’t run into many eligible men at Hardwick, so her options are limited. I’m absolutely ecstatic to discover she has a thing for the handsome man next door. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson. “Don’t be silly. I was just surprised to see him.” Uh-huh. Right. I slowly shake my head so she knows I’m not buying it, but I don’t force her to tell me more. We’ll have plenty of time to ease into the subject during the week once she’s warmed up to the idea.

“Who was that with him? Did he get remarried?” “No, that’s his sister, Cora. She moved in about a year ago to help with the kids.” Carter was widowed a few months before moving to his Tuxedo Park estate. He’s been living there for years now without remarrying, and if memory serves, his two kids are approaching their teens. It makes sense that he might bring in someone, family or otherwise, to help with their undoubtedly busy schedules. Now that I know his relation to the woman, I note the similarities in their appearance. Carter has the same blond hair with a natural curl that Cora likely hides by straightening and curling to form more controlled, silky waves. They are both relatively petite and not as fair-complexioned as some blonds. As for their natures, I got the sense no two people could be more different. He was attentive and thoughtful while the grass frosted over and died wherever she stepped. “Poor kids,” I murmur. If she’s their caregiver, I don’t envy them. “Don’t say that.” Gia smacks my shoulder. “I’m sure she was just having a rough morning.” Her voice lacked the strength of confidence. “How come you haven’t mentioned her before?” My sweet, considerate, selfless sister raises a brow. “I figure, if I don’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all.” I double over in a fit of laughter while Gia fights off a grin. Cora must be a piece of work if she can’t even gain favor with Gia. A person has to try hard to fall from her good graces. “Like I said, poor kids.” Melancholy eclipses her mirth when she nods. “Let’s head to the kitchen. I’m sure Mom’s wondering where we are.” We bypass the front door and walk around to the servant’s entrance at the back of the house. While the building was maintained true to its original character, certain modern amenities such as kitchen appliances and other upgrades were discreetly added to the home in a way that didn’t upset the old-world charm. We find the cook, Cecelia, stationed at a twelve-burner Wolfe stovetop overseeing three steaming pots while Mom kneads a massive ball of dough.