Page 30 of Cabin Mate

She giggles, then brings her index finger to her lips, gesturing for me to be quiet. “Shh! He’ll hear you.”

Harold slides into the front seat and checks his mirrors before pulling out into the airport traffic.

“Your parents are thrilled to see you, ma’am,” Harold says in a monotone voice, void of any emotion.

“I’ll be glad to see them as well,” she replies with a polite smile.

I glance at her from the side and she gives me a subtle shake of her head. A silent plea not to ask about her parents in Harold’s company, perhaps?

We drive through the rolling hills of Vermont and arrive at a long winding driveway. Gold gates with lions on each side open slowly after Harold punches in the gate code.

Raising my eyebrows, I smirk at Molly. She shakes her head in dismay, but looks amused.

The posh mansion comes into view after we make it past the snow-covered evergreen trees that line the first quarter mile of the driveway.

“Umm … I thought you said it was a cabin?” I ask, my jaw dropping as I take in the giant house before me.

“It is a cabin,” Molly insists.

Harold silently gets out of the car and walks around to get our bags from the trunk.

“This is not a cabin!” I whisper-yell, looking back to make sure Harold is distracted. “I’m pretty sure this is where one of the Kardashians live.”

Molly waves a hand in the air like this house isn’t that big of a deal. But I see the beginnings of a blush on her face before she turns away from me. She opens her door and slides out of the car before Harold or I can do it for her.

I get out on my side and rush around the Mercedes-Benz, careful not to slip in the snow. When I make it to her side, I gently grab her arm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She leans in and whispers, “Don’t pretend like you’ve never seen a mansion, Brooks. You’re also from a wealthy family.”

My head jerks back slightly at her clipped tone. I remind myself to tone the teasing down. I’m here to make her life easier, not more difficult. “Sorry. I know it’s annoying when people react like that. This is just even more grand than I ever expected.”

She sighs, and her expression softens. “I know. I’m sorry for being grumpy … it’s just that my family makes me feel on edge. And just because it’s a giant house doesn’t mean it’s better somehow than other houses. Your parents’ house is so warm and gorgeous. It may be smaller than this … but your family is loving. They genuinely enjoy being around each other.” She looks behind her and lowers her voice as if someone might hear us talking. “The Vanderbilts aren’t like that.”

Unsure what to say, I take her hand in mine. She hasn’t put gloves on since we’re not planning on staying outside long. Molly looks up at me in surprise.

“You said unlimited hand holding,” I remind her.

She chuckles. “Oh, right. I suppose we might as well get used to it. My family could see us anytime now.” She tugs on my hand to pull me toward the grand staircase leading up to the gigantic front door.

I’m pretty sure they chopped down a five-hundred-year-old tree to create this door. Molly grabs the gold knocker and knocks twice before the door opens and we’re greeted by another man who looks like a butler.

I’m briefly surprised that not only does she have to knock before entering a cabin owned by her own flesh and blood, but also her parents aren't the ones to greet us. I look over at Molly to see if she’s upset, but she looks unphased.

“Miss Vanderbilt, welcome home,” the butler says in the same monotone voice as Harold.

We step inside the foyer, complete with glossy, tile floors—tile that’s been made to look like wood grain. I’m guessing the tile is heated. The inside does look like a cabin, but like it’s been staged. Not the type of cabin where you’d spend the day outdoors to come in and throw off your wet snow clothes and cozy up by the fire… but like a cabin where a home decor magazine photo shoot had just taken place.

I’ve been so busy studying the interior of the cabin, I hadn’t noticed Molly had already shrugged her coat off and the butler is looking at me expectantly.

“Oh! So sorry.” I take my hoodie off and hand it to him.

“Thank you, sir,” he says dryly before walking off down a long hallway with Molly’s coat draped over one arm, and holding my hoodie between his thumb and forefinger like it’s a diseased animal.

I grimace at Molly and she laughs quietly.

She studies me for a moment, brings her hand up and smooths my hair down, then dusts a piece of lint off my dark-green, long-sleeved henley. “There. Now you’re ready.”

She slides her hand into mine and I follow her lead through the entryway and into a room with ceilings so high you could store the Titanic inside. There are stairs going up on both sides and then meeting in the middle to a balcony.