This day, instead of sitting in his wing waiting for him, I’d taken a shower, gone to town, and taken a much-needed break from Grayson. From the Crownes. The entire time I kept waiting for Grayson to pop up and tell me I’d broken some rule. I didn’t get to leave.

But now, as the sun sat high in the sky, I was back, and he wasn’t there. My fear was for naught. I twirled the green pen I’d bought on a whim, feeling like a fool.

Tomorrow was the Fourth of July, and the Crowne Fourth of July party was the biggest nightmare—I mean party—of the year. To the world it was a spectacular, exclusive event. To us, it was months catering to the Crownes’ insane whims. Fireworks shaped like various Crowne family members, or sand that shimmered gold in the night, to name a few.

I counted at least a hundred servants outside; they looked like a murder of crows on the pristine white beach.

The morning after the Fourth of July, the Crownes were to go on a European family vacation that would start in France and end in Switzerland. It was always our—meaning the servants’—little unofficial vacation, too. We still worked at the Hall, but it was a respite from the Crownes themselves. Now I wondered, would I be going with him?

“Story.”

I sat up at my uncle’s voice. He would have finished cleaning Grayson’s room hour’s ago. Yet he watched me.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t!” I hadn’t been avoiding him, but I haven’t been seeking him out. I had nothing good to tell him, nothing that could make this okay.

Red rimmed his lids. “I can’t leave you until I know you’re going to be safe and taken care of, Story.”

“Leave? What do you mean?”

The ocean crashed behind us as my uncle’s silence stretched.

“Are you going on vacation?” I tested, already knowing the answer.

Woodson Hale didn’t go on vacation; he didn’t retire. He’d once told me he would die here, and we’d come close. When he looked away, fear rose like acid heartburn.

“Is it back?” I swallowed, unable to say the word cancer.

When he looked back, his face was stone. “Of course not. I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been. I came here to tell you one thing, Story. If you don’t end it, I will.”

At that moment—the worst moment—Grayson came back.

Grayson slapped my uncle’s shoulder. “Woodsy! Late in the day to be cleaning.”

My uncle’s glare was trained on me. I waited, heart pounding, for my uncle to go through with his threat, but then slowly he turned his attention to Grayson.

“A job well done knows no time limit, but I’m finished now.” He gave me a knowing look, then left.