The Lost - J. D. Robb [110]
“You have nothing now?”
“Nothing. As you well know, these are hard times in the banking industry.”
Numb, Aidan heard the phone disconnect while she was muttering, “Thank you, Mr. Saunders. And have a nice day.”
Then, because she’d pinned all her hopes on this call, she burst into tears. Once unlocked, the tears she’d been holding at bay for days, for weeks, ran unchecked down her cheeks, soaking the front of her shirt.
She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that job. Now that it was being denied her, she couldn’t seem to think beyond it. What would she do? What could she do?
Without a quick infusion of cash, she would lose her family home and would find herself out on the street.
Seeing the papers left by the lawyer, she picked up his card and, without giving a thought to the consequences, dialed the number. When she heard his voice, she spoke quickly, so she wouldn’t lose her nerve.
“Mr. Barlow? Aidan O’Mara. When can you book that flight to Ireland?”
“Had a bit of a nap, did you?” The young lad’s voice had her looking up to see him watching her in the rearview mirror. “We’re passing through Glinkilly.” A note of pride crept into his tone. “Our wee town was built near the site of an ancient abbey, which dates to the twelfth century.”
“Such a pretty town.” And it was, with its tidy houses and clean streets. The shop windows were bright with goods, and the people walking about looked friendly and prosperous.
“You’ll soon have your first glimpse of Glin Lodge.”
They left the town behind and started along a lovely country road, wide enough for only one vehicle at a time. On either side of the car were hedgerows of deep pink flowers so thick Aidan couldn’t see beyond them.
The hedgerows gave way to a meandering stone wall with an occasional door painted bright red or sky blue or sunny yellow. She wondered where the doors led, but the wall was too high to see over.
The car was climbing, climbing, as though scaling a mountain. When they reached the top of a hill and turned onto a wide, curving ribbon of road, she saw acres of perfectly sculpted grounds. Ancient flowering trees with branches that swept the grass before lifting high in the air. Fountains set among lovely rose gardens, with stone benches set about to enjoy the view. Sheep dotted a distant hillside, adding to the pastoral setting.
They rounded a curve and Aidan’s jaw dropped at the sight of the stone mansion glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight.
“There’s Glin Lodge, miss.”
“This is where Mr. Glin lives?”
“Aye. Indeed.” He shot her a glance in the mirror and smiled at the look on her face.
The word lodge had planted an image in her mind far removed from this. She’d been expecting a rustic house, with a few barns and outbuildings. It had never occurred to Aidan that Cullen Glin lived in such luxury. The lodge was actually a mansion. The kind of place she’d seen only in books.
They drove past a reflecting pond where a pair of black swans circled, leaving barely a ripple in their wake.
As they pulled into the circular drive and came to a halt at the foot of high stone steps, a pair of massive Irish wolfhounds came bounding up, setting off a chorus of barking.
The lad circled the car and opened the passenger door. When Aidan hesitated, he gave her a wide smile. “They’re big and noisy, but they won’t bite.”
He helped her from the car. Before he could admonish the dogs, a man on horseback came up behind them.
As he dismounted, the man’s deep voice called, “Meath. Mayo.”
The two dogs sat, tails swishing, tongues lolling. Aidan would have sworn they were grinning.
She turned for a better look at the man.
He wore a charcoal jacket and denims tucked into tall leather boots. His dark hair was wind-tossed, his eyes deep blue and piercing as they boldly studied her. Though not handsome in the classic sense, his rugged good looks and casual elegance gave him a commanding presence. He looked like the hero in every classic novel she’d ever