But he could not understand why a woman earning less in a year than he spent on a single vacation would give away her own lunch to a stranger.
“You don't know me,” he said.
Grace closed the bag and pushed it toward him.
“No.”
“I could be dangerous.”
“You could.”
“I could be lying.”
“You could.”
“Then why help me?”
Grace was silent for a moment.
She looked toward the tall windows of the mansion.
“Because when my father was alive, he used to tell me something.”
Adrian waited.
“He said that if you only help people who can repay you, you're not really helping them. You're making an investment.”
Adrian's chest tightened.
An investment.
The word belonged to his world.
But Grace had given it a meaning he had never considered.
“Your father sounds like a wise man,” he said.
Her smile faded slightly.
“He was.”
Adrian noticed the past tense.
“I'm sorry.”
Grace looked down at her hands.
“He passed away three years ago.”
For a moment, the only sound was the wind moving through the maple leaves.
Then Adrian asked quietly, “Was he sick?”
She nodded.
“Heart failure.”
Adrian glanced at her.
“Did he get treatment?”
“He did. As much as we could afford.”
There was something in the way she said it.
Not bitterness.
Not accusation.
Just exhaustion from remembering a battle she had already lost.
Adrian knew the cost of the best hospitals in America.
He also knew that he had once spent more than two hundred thousand dollars on a watch he rarely wore.
He looked down at the sandwich.
For the first time, that watch felt embarrassing.
“Do you have family?” he asked.
Grace nodded.
“My mother. And my younger brother, Daniel.”
“Are they nearby?”
“My mother lives in Bridgeport. Daniel is at college.”
“You must be proud.”
“I am.”
Her face brightened for the first time.
“He wants to become a doctor.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Ambitious.”
“He's brilliant.”
Then she laughed softly.
“Of course, I'm his sister, so I'm supposed to say that.”
Adrian almost laughed with her.
Almost.
It had been a long time since he had shared an uncomplicated conversation with someone.
Nobody was asking him for money.
Nobody was flattering him.
Nobody was trying to impress him.
Grace was simply talking.
And he was simply listening.
Then the back door of the mansion slammed.
A sharp female voice cut across the garden.
“Grace Miller!”
Grace went pale.
Adrian turned.
A tall woman in a fitted navy dress stood at the service entrance.
Her dark hair was pulled into a perfect bun.
Her expression was hard enough to match the marble walls behind her.
It was Eleanor Price.
The household manager.
Adrian knew her well.
She had worked for him for nearly six years.
He had personally approved her promotion.
He had always considered her efficient.
Ruthless, perhaps.
But efficient.
“Grace!” Eleanor called again. “Come here. Now!”
Grace rose immediately.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered to Adrian.
He watched her hurry toward the house.
Eleanor met her halfway across the lawn.
Even from the bench, Adrian could hear every word.
“Where have you been?”
“I was bringing water to someone outside.”
“Someone?”
“A man at the gate. He needed help.”
Eleanor stared at her.
“You abandoned your duties to feed a homeless man?”
“I finished setting the sunroom before I came out.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Grace lowered her head.
“No, ma'am.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Do you understand how fortunate you are to work here?”
“Yes, ma'am.”