Free For Richer for Poorer by Cassandra Black Page A

Lunch prepared?
     
                  It was so pretty driving down Antioch Road. The lane narrowed and became dense with still-flowering trees as they neared the water in the distance. When Hamilton turned the truck into the long driveway leading to his home, she opened her mouth.
     
                  "Why are we stopping here?" she asked. "Client?"
     
                  "No," he said and pressed some buttons on his dash to open the tall wrought-iron security gate. "It's my home."
     
                  Miranda's eyes were wide in disbelief as Hamilton drove the winding road to the top of the hill.
     
                  "You're kidding?" she said, taking in the stone house that looked more like a country club than one home.
     
                  "No, I'm not." He looked at her, falling more in love as each second passed.
     
                  In a few short months, things had finally turned around.  He'd landed financing for a deal he'd been eyeing further south of Harper's Valley for a long time. He would begin breaking ground  on a new project before the holidays. It would be a mixed use development, with town homes, singe family dwellings and commercial spaces, targeting working people over 55. And he knew just the person to oversee tenant development.
     
                  As they stopped in the circular driveway of his palatial home, a white-gloved butler opened the door.
     
                  "Good morning, Mr. Steele," the old man said, coming down to greet his boss.
     
                  "Good morning, Solomon," Hamilton said, hugging him like a relative instead of an employee. Solomon had been with the family since Hamilton was a boy.
     
                  "How was your time off?"
     
                  "Lovely, lovely. Me and the misses enjoyed Amelia Island. Felt like we were on our honeymoon again.  Thank you for your gesture in letting us use the beach house."
     
                  "Any time, any time. You tell Ms. Pearl I said hello, you hear?"
     
                  "I sure will," he said.
     
                  Miranda could overhear them as she got out of the truck.   How could he maintain a home like this -- and beach property on the Atlantic to boot? She knew Hamilton was working on getting his business back on track, but there was no way he could afford this place. The upkeep alone …
     
                  "Solomon, I want you to meet someone," Hamilton said.
     
                  The old butler gave him a look that asked if she would be the one.  Hamilton smiled and raised his eyebrows in affirmation.
     
                  "Miranda, this is Solomon. He runs the house," Hamilton said.
     
                  The old man had kind eyes.  "Nice to meet you," she smiled and shook his hands.
     
                  "Welcome to Steele Manor," the butler said.
     
                  Steele Manor had a nice ring to it, she thought.
     
                  As they entered the tall, wooden doors, Miranda took in the grandeur around her. Solomon led her to the parlor as Hamilton scaled the stairs to change clothes.
     
                  "You're in good hands," he hollered back. "Ill be right down."
     
                  "Right this way, miss," the butler said.  He gestured to a plush seating area that overlooked the grounds.
     
                  "Can I get you something to drink, miss?" he offered.
     
                  "No, I'm fine, thank you," she said.  "And you can call me Miranda," she said with respect. 
     
                  "Okay, Miss Miranda," he smiled and almost nodded.  "I'm right in here should you need anything at all." He pointed  toward the door that must have led to the kitchen and excused himself.