MacKalvey House
by Carol Ann Kauffman
decides to stay. She takes a job as photographer for a historical magazine and
falls in love with the extremely unpopular Kenneth MacKalvey, an older British
author with a shady past.
Old families scars resurface and play havoc with Michelle and Kenneth's relationship,
as she struggles to come to terms with her father's abandonment and unforeseen
family issues, as well as a ruthless redhead.
They settled down on the couch in the study with the lights low. Kenneth pulled her into a hug. He kissed her forehead.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Very”
“Do you need anything? A cover?”
“No. Just you,” she nuzzled up against him, thinking things were finally moving in the right direction. She reached up and kissed his neck, enjoying his warm embrace. He let out a little chuckle. She rested her hand on his chest, acutely aware of the rise and fall of his breathing as well as his quickening heartbeat. It felt so right, so perfect to here, like this is where she was meant to be, with him. The sound of his heartbeat and the warm closeness of his body soon soothed her to sleep.
“Excuse me, Sir,” Bernard knocked on the door and entered. “Sir, your aunt Edna is here.”
“Aunt Edna? Here? Now?” They scrambled into a seated position. “I’ll be right there, Edwards. He turned to Michelle. “I’m sorry we were interrupted. But favorite auntie at the door, at this time of evening, demands my attention. Come on. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s wonderful. You’ll love her.” Kenneth headed to the doorway. Michelle straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair as she followed him to the front door.
“Aunt Edna, what a delightful surprise! How are you, my dear?” They hugged.
“Kenneth, dear, I truly hated to come unannounced, but I spent the afternoon in Bentwillow-by-the-Marsh with some dear old friends and had a fabulous time. But I stayed far too long. And I hate driving back to London in the dark.”
“Of course. I understand, and we have plenty of room. There’s no need to stress yourself with driving on these inadequate roadways with no proper lighting at night. We are always delighted to have you. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Kenneth.” Edwards went into the kitchen.
“Aunt Edna, this is Michelle Rosemont,” said Kenneth, hugging her. “Michelle, this is my very favorite auntie in the world. She has been loving and supportive of me, no matter what kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
“Hello, Aunt Edna. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Michelle, reaching for her hand.
“Pleased to meet you my dear,” said Aunt Edna, patting her hand. “And he exaggerates his wild side. Our Kenneth is the perfect gentleman, so much like my dear brother Kenneth. He is a great joy to me.”
“Tea is ready, Sir. Shall I set up in the dining room?”
“No, don’t fuss, Edwards. We’ll take our tea in the kitchen.” They followed Bernard down the hallway into the kitchen. Kenneth and Bernard quietly discussed sleeping arrangements and Bernard went off to make preparations.
“The kitchen is getting much use today, Auntie. Michelle cooked dinner for us this evening. She made us a Spinach Frittata.”
“Really?”
“Are you hungry, Aunt Edna? We have some leftover.”
Well, I guess I could eat a little something.”
Michelle heated up the last piece and brought it to Aunt Edna.
“Very good, Michelle. And you are American. How did you meet my nephew?”
“I’m from Ohio, but I live here now. I’m the photographer for the Historical Hazelton Magazine. I met Kenneth when he so graciously agreed to allow me photograph his estate for the May issue of the magazine.”
“Really? I’ll be sure to pick up a copy. The grounds of MacKalvey House are so beautiful.”
“Yes, they are,” agreed Michelle.
“Is Moira Reed still at the helm there?”
“Yes, and she’s doing her best to keep it afloat.”
“I don’t see much future for the magazine industry. Magazines were made for a different century, my dear, a slower, gentler lifestyle, with their glossy full-color photos and well-written, well-researched articles. I still love them, of course. They are the perfect companion to a cup of hot tea and a cozy fire on a chilly evening or with a tall glass of iced tea with a sprig of mint, sitting in the formal gardens on a lazy, sunny afternoon. Today, everybody is rushing around, in a constant hurry, texting and tweeting, not enjoying life at all. I do hope you have a second career to fall back on.”
“I have a degree in early childhood education from a college back in the States. I don’t plan on being a magazine photographer for the rest of my life. I was offered this job while I was here on vacation, and it allowed me to stay here. I like Hazelton. I enjoy what I’m doing. It allows me to work at my own pace, to enjoy the beautiful countryside, or an exquisite English cottage garden. A beautiful sunrise or a stunning sunset. And I understand what you mean about the magazine industry. I think it’s even worse back in the States.”
“I seriously doubt the Historical Hazelton Magazine can last too much longer. Nobody cares about history anymore. The interest in our fabulous old historic buildings and these beautiful, well-kept country estates is dwindling daily. And I dare say, when my generation draws its final breath, the financial support for such endeavors will evaporate completely.
Kenneth, what have you been up to? How are things at the Cloudbreak factory? Have you been there, Michelle? Our darling Kenneth has designed a one-of-a-kind facility.”
“No, I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Well, you must. We have a house in Cloudbreak, nothing like this, of course, but a very nice, comfortable home. Kenneth, you should take her to Scotland on a little holiday.”
“Yes, Auntie, I will.”
“Rosemont. Any relation to Maeve Rosemont?”
“Yes! Maeve Rosemont was my grandmother. Did you know her?”
“Yes, I knew her well. Lovely person. We belonged to the same Bridge Club. We played together whenever I was in London for any length of time. She was a delightful person.”
“She died shortly after I was born. She was with my mother when my mother died. And I know she stayed with me for the first two months of my life before having to return to London. My grandparents, my mom’s parents, always told me she was a wonderful woman. Heart attack, they tell me.”
“More like heart break. She was so devastated by her son’s decision to… oh, my word! YOU’RE Ethan’s child?”
“Yes, Aunt Edna.” Michelle was silent for a moment. “But I don’t like to talk about him. He’s kind of a sore spot with me.”
“I understand completely, my dear. We’ll discuss him no further.”
“If you’re ready, I can show you to your rooms now, Ladies,” Bernard said.
“Yes, let’s go upstairs. I’m really very tired,” she said, taking Michelle by the hand as they walked upstairs. “You must not allow the poor decisions made by others in the past to affect your life or how you feel about yourself, my dear.”
“Yes, Auntie, and I’m so glad we aren’t discussing my father anymore.”
