Chapter 8 #2
The next rooms came quickly as Hudson continued the tour.
First, a formal dining room with a long mahogany table that could seat a large group.
Then a small study lined with bookshelves.
We made our way into the biggest room yet.
It was open and airy, with tall windows and a grand piano under a crystal chandelier.
“Parties are hosted here,” Hudson said as we walked through.
I turned slowly, taking it all in, still trying to grasp that this was real.
We stepped into a cozier room with couches arranged around a stone fireplace. Above the mantle, a wide rectangular mirror hung in a heavy gold frame.
“This,” Hudson said, “is the family room.”
He picked up a remote from a side table and clicked something. The mirror flickered, then revealed a television screen. A bright, flashy reality show came to life across it.
“It’s a TV,” he said, his voice full of honest wonder. “A mirror that turns into a TV. I just won’t ever get over that.”
I laughed, equally impressed, as he turned it off and the mirror returned.
“All right,” he said with a grin. “This way. We’ve got more to see.”
We followed him up the grand wooden staircase.
“The main bedrooms are on this floor,” Daniel said as we reached the landing. Even up here, everything was elegant and screamed luxury: double doors with brass handles, crown molding, and thick rugs that muffled every step.
“This is my room. Well, our room,” Daniel said, opening one of the doors.
Inside, the room looked like something out of a luxury resort catalog.
The king-sized bed was draped in crisp white linens and flanked by wooden nightstands and matching lamps that cast soft golden light.
Everything was done in a coastal color palette of warm whites, driftwood grays, and ocean blue accents.
A sitting area with two armchairs faced a fireplace built from pale stone.
Nothing about the room said childhood or nostalgia.
It appeared to have been cleared of every personal item and professionally staged for an elite guest. Hotel-like in its perfection.
I walked to the window and froze. The view took my breath away. It stretched out over nothing but sea. Just water. Endless. Glittering. Alive.
The motion of the waves was so rhythmic, so calming, that it hypnotized me. Below, the manicured garden added a splash of vivid green, but the ocean stole the show, stretching out in every direction under the late afternoon sun.
“I . . . have never seen anything like this,” I whispered.
“It’s breathtaking,” Daniel said softly as he stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.
“Well,” Hudson said from the doorway, “I’ll bring your bags up and let you have a few minutes. But don’t be too long. The food’s almost ready, and Tara gets a bit grumpy when folks don’t eat what she cooks.”
“Rightfully so,” Daniel said, smirking. “How’s she doing here at the Breakers?”
“Very well,” Hudson said. “She seems to enjoy the quiet.” He caught my gaze. “We have a high turnover rate for her position,” he continued. “It can get lonely out here, especially in the winter. It’s not for everyone.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Unless you’ve got six kids and ten grandkids like Tara,” he added, chuckling. “Then I suppose the quiet feels more like a gift.” He clapped his hands. “All right. Let me grab your bags.”
“I’ll help you,” Daniel offered.
“Me too,” I added.
But Hudson shook his head. “Maybe I’ll let Daniel’s spoiled butt help this old man carry a few bags, but I’ll fight tooth and nail before I let the new lady of the house lift a single thing.”
“Oh, please,” I said with a grin. “I can lift a bag or two.”
“Please listen to him,” Daniel said as we stepped into the hallway. “Otherwise he’ll scold me like I’m five again.”
Hudson grinned. “You’re talking big for someone who used to bawl when your toast was cut the wrong way.”
“Jesus. Can you unman me a little less in front of my wife, please?” Daniel shot back with a laugh.
Watching Daniel like this filled me with warmth.
He was playful, relaxed, bantering like a kid with a parent figure.
I hadn’t even imagined this side of him, not in a million years.
Seeing him loved by someone other than me hit in a way I hadn’t expected.
It gave me hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, the people here would love me someday too.
I looked down the hallway. A deep red runner muffled our steps, leading past several elegant doors and ending at a large set of double doors.
Daniel nodded toward the room at the end of the hallway. “That was my parents’ bedroom.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” His voice was light, not guarded. “You can take a look around if you want. There are several guest rooms on this floor too.”
“Maybe later. I want to set up Mochi’s cage. The one we ordered online.”
Before the trip, we’d bought a larger cage, one with perches, ladders, and brand-new toys.
“I’ll set it up,” Hudson said. “Just let me know where you’d like me to put it. I’ll see to it right after I bring your bags up.”
“Gosh, thank you so much, Hudson,” I said with a soft smile. I couldn’t stop grinning. No, this wasn’t perfect. Hudson wasn’t family by blood. But still, it was everything my heart craved. Some sense of family. Belonging.
“We’ll be right back,” Daniel said, and I watched them walk down the stairs.
Just before they disappeared, Daniel turned.
“Oh, one thing. The yellow door downstairs . . .” He and Hudson exchanged a quick glance. “It leads down into the basement. It’s the only yellow door in the entire house.”
“It’s dangerous down there,” Hudson added.
“The stairs are old and full of dry rot. They’ve never been replaced.
All the utilities were moved to the shed out back many years ago, so the basement was kind of forgotten when the home was updated.
We keep it locked to make sure no one goes down there and gets hurt. ”
“Are you sure it’s locked?” Daniel asked.
“Yes,” Hudson said, nodding. “We don’t want the cleaners getting curious or wandering down there by accident. Also, don’t roam at night, especially near the west wing by the basement. It’s an old house. You might… trip.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” I said. “I hate spiders. You won’t catch me anywhere near that basement or any other.”
The two of them looked at each other again.
“Good,” Daniel said. “We’ll fix the stairs eventually. It just always got pushed off.”
It was a little strange.
Don’t roam at night? Near the west wing?
And the rest of the house had clearly been updated, so the fact that the basement stairs had been left out didn’t really make sense.
But I wasn’t a contractor. Maybe it got overlooked.
Or maybe the Winthrops didn’t feel like dealing with it.
Renovations could be a nightmare: loud, messy, always more complicated than expected.
Sometimes it was easier to close a door and pretend whatever was behind it didn’t exist.
“We’ll be right back,” Daniel said again as they headed off.
Their laughter echoed faintly in the distance, but the thick walls swallowed the sound almost instantly. Silence crept in quickly.
I turned and looked down the hallway. Something about Daniel’s parents’ room felt off-limits. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it felt too intimate. Too raw. But the other doors were fair game, and before I knew it, my hand was pressing down on the nearest handle.
The door creaked open to reveal a polished guest bedroom with a king-sized bed. The room had the same upscale, seacoast resort feel as Daniel’s: clean lines, subtle elegance, nothing personal.
I tried the room next to it. Similar layout, different color palette: deep crimson against soft cream, accented with brushed gold.
Two more guest rooms followed, each tastefully styled, each as impersonal as the last.
Then I opened the room directly beside ours.
This one was different.
Unlike the others, it looked like someone had actually lived in it. Not messy, not cluttered. Just touched.
The vanity on the far wall caught my eye first. It was sleek and modern.
On top of it was a golden tray containing neatly arranged lipsticks and a compact powder box.
It was as if someone had just used it and might walk back in at any second.
The bed was made and there was something soft about the space.
Warm. The artwork stood out immediately too.
While the rest of the house had been decorated in muted seascapes and stiff family portraits of European-looking Winthrops, this room held bold, framed photographs.
One image showed Audrey Hepburn in black and white, holding a long cigarette, her outfit dramatic and elegant, topped with a massive hat.
The others depicted other fashionable women I didn’t recognize in striking poses: in narrow alleys, Parisian rooftops, or moody cafes. Artistic, confident, artsy.
Curiosity tugging at me, I wandered a little deeper into the room. It didn’t feel like a guest room meant for people coming and going. This space felt personal. Like it had belonged to someone in the family.
“Hmm,” I mumbled. Maybe it had been a relative’s room. Possibly Daniel’s mother’s. Many wealthy couples had separate bedrooms.
Suddenly, something about standing in there felt wrong. Nosy. I slipped out and gently closed the door behind me, then headed back to our room.
The bed practically swallowed me as I sat on the edge and looked at the ocean through the tall windows.
The view was incredible.
I let the silence settle around me like a warm blanket. Hudson. Tara. This house. Daniel. The Breakers. The dogs. All of it. It felt incredible.
For a split second, I wondered if this could all be in my head. If I had finally lost it.
But logic kicked in hard and fast.
No. If I were that far gone, someone would have noticed. I’d be sitting in a psych ward, not wrapped in designer sheets looking out over the Atlantic.
This was real.
I was here. I was loved. And maybe I was finally part of something that felt like a family.
I leaned back into the white pillows and let my body sink into the softness. Whatever force had brought me here, after everything I had endured in life, it was a gift, and I would be forever grateful.
The phone on the nightstand rang.
I jumped slightly, caught off guard by the sudden sound. For a second, I hesitated. Then I reached slowly, as if picking it up might break some rich-person rule.
“Lunch is ready in the dining room,” Tara said on the other line.
“Oh. Thank you.”
“You might want to come down,” she added. “I doubt the bags will make it up there any time soon. The kids got distracted with Hudson’s model trains.”
It took me a second to piece together what she meant. Then I laughed.
“I’m coming.”
I really liked Tara. She was one of those people who had no filter, though she sounded tougher than she actually was. Sarcastic to the bone, but all heart underneath. The way she had instantly cared for Mochi without asking questions—no doubt about it.