Twenty
Grace had a hard time deciding which part of Bellefield was more phenomenal. Was it the massive wine cave in the cellar where she and Heron spent the better part of three hours searching for the best Shiraz, Malbec, Merlot, Pinot Noir, and Zinfandel wines? It was Heron who’d asked her to try a little bit of everything, insisting that if Nora was a connoisseur of anything besides history, it was alcohol. Grace was kind enough not to say she’d noticed this already.
And if it wasn’t the massive wine cave, was it the greenhouse?
It stood twenty feet tall, made of gorgeous glass, and housed some of the most beautiful plants and flowers Grace had ever seen. She’d been allowed to wander its aisles, pressing her fingers to soft rose petals and fragrant lilies, while Heron busied himself
