“Gran asked Charlie to keep an eye on you?” What was going on? Though a decent farmhand, Charlie was no one’s idea of a babysitter, let alone for an active boy like Sammy.

“Yes.” Sammy nodded vigorously, the cowlick flapping on the back of his head.

“Why is Charlie tending you?” Sometimes getting a straight answer out of Sammy could be maddeningly difficult.

“Because Gran took Granddad to the doctor. Nick drove them,” Sammy added, looking pleased with himself for tacking on that last bit of information.

Harry frowned. “Did they say why?”

“Granddad woke up dizzy and tired.”

A spurt of alarm shot through Harry. Something must be very wrong indeed if Dad had consented to a doctor’s visit.

“Hop in.” Harry nodded toward the passenger seat. He’d ring his mum at the first opportunity.

Sammy punched in the gate code and climbed inside the vehicle while the gates closed behind them.

“Wanna steer this baby when we reach the top of the switchbacks?” Harry offered.

“Yes.” Sammy’s gray eyes lit up, and he bounced on the passenger seat.

Harry pressed the accelerator, and the 4x4 started up the switchbacks that laced the steep hillside. Almost immediately, they swept under the canopy of lime trees bordering one side of the narrow lane, their ancient branches arching overhead and nearly resting on the limestone hill on the opposite side of the drive, enclosing them in a tunnel of greenery.

At the top of the switchbacks, they emerged near a massive reflecting pool, its central fountain spraying toward the sky.

“My turn.” Sammy plopped onto his lap without an invitation.

Harry adjusted the seat and let the boy steer—correcting his direction from time to time with his knees on the bottom of the wheel.

“You’ve improved,” Harry said, pulling in a deep breath.

“I’ve been practicing with Granddad,” Sammy informed him.

Nostalgia engulfed him of long summer days spent riding the lawn tractor on his father’s lap while he learned to steer. His earlier sense of unease returned, and Harry sent up a silent prayer on his father’s behalf. They didn’t come much better than Gavin Benson, a quiet man of faith with a strong work ethic.

Harry and Sammy slowly made their way up the drive, weaving past the three-storied priory built of golden limestone. Just beyond the mansion, they turned left, branching off the main lane and continuing toward the converted stable block.

The stable gates stood open, obscuring the gold-leafed Rivendon coat of arms at their center. Inside the cobbled inner courtyard, all was silent. Enormous earthen pots filled with spring flowers and rocket junipers were arranged in clumps outside the former stall doors.