That's not the point. The point is, how do you tell someone your net worth without sounding arrogant? 'Hi, Leo, my name is Shane Sorrenson and I'm worth six billion dollars?' I don't fucking think so."
"Shane Alastair Sorrenson, I will not tolerate such vulgar language in my presence. This is not the United States Marine Corps."
I stifled a giggle. Shane blushed red and mumbled a very boyish, "Sorry, Mom."
His brothers all seemed to have come down with coughing fits as well.
At that moment, the limousine pulled to a stop at the top of a circle driveway. All that was visible to me, through the dark window, was a wide set of marble steps leading to a pair of enormous, dark wood French doors and thick, elegant, fluted white columns.
The door was opened by an older, thick-set man with buzzed black hair and sunglasses as well as the kind of earpieces worn by Secret Service agents.
"Ah, we've arrived," Virginia said, sliding out. The driver/bodyguard took her hand as she stepped out. "Thank you, Gerald. Leona, come with me, if you would. I'll show you the house."
I was next out, and I found myself lifted to my feet by Gerald's calloused, powerful hand. I mumbled, "thanks," to the burly man and followed after Virginia, glancing back at Shane. I would have rather had Shane give me the tour, as I hadn't had a moment alone with him since the picnic in Sudan. For all that I was irritated with him for holding back the truth from me, he was still the one familiar thing in my life, which was suddenly a very tumultuous thing. Shane watched me go, a thousand emotions shifting across his handsome features.
The front doors swung open as Virginia approached them, held by a pair of uniformed...servants, I guess you would call them. I wasn't sure. Butlers? Maids? People who worked in the house. Virginia swept past them without so much as a glance, but I thanked both of them and tried to keep up. She was moving swiftly, clad in an elegant but simple floor-length dress. The house was palatial. I'd only seen places like this in movies. This was something out of Jane Eyre or Mansfield Park , endless expanses of marble floors, grand, curving staircases and extravagant crystal chandeliers, suits of armor.
I had stopped in the middle of the foyer, which was bigger than the house I'd lived in with John. Virginia noticed I'd stopped and drifted back to my side.
"Don't let the trappings intimidate you, my dear. My husband has a flair for the dramatic. This house, if you can properly call such a monstrosity as this a house, is modeled after an eighteenth century British nobleman's estate. Something-upon-something-ford. I don't know. It's all grand and wonderful and entirely too big."
"How can I not be intimidated, Mrs. Sorrenson? This place is...god, it's incredible. I don't even know how to process what I'm seeing."
"Please, call me Virginia. And really, darling, it's just a house. A rather over-large one, but still, just a house."
I snorted. "Yeah, just a house. Okay." Virginia cocked an eyebrow at me, which I was learning was a Sorrenson family trait. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't offend you. It is beautiful. It's just...overwhelming."
"Oh, well it is that, even to me, sometimes. Try finding someone in this house. If Henry isn't in his study, I need a search party and walkie talkies to find him. I told him we should get intercoms installed, but he said it wasn't authentic, and the electricity was bending the design enough as it was." I must have looked surprised, because she laughed. "Oh, you'll see what I mean about Henry when you meet him. He doesn't do things halfway. When he decided to do a period design, he originally wanted it to be completely authentic. All fireplaces and lamps and outhouses and so on. Well you can be sure I put my foot down. I told him he made it a normal, twenty-first century home, with TVs and electricity and indoor bathrooms and all that, or he could find someone else to live in it with him. But he refused on the
"Shane Alastair Sorrenson, I will not tolerate such vulgar language in my presence. This is not the United States Marine Corps."
I stifled a giggle. Shane blushed red and mumbled a very boyish, "Sorry, Mom."
His brothers all seemed to have come down with coughing fits as well.
At that moment, the limousine pulled to a stop at the top of a circle driveway. All that was visible to me, through the dark window, was a wide set of marble steps leading to a pair of enormous, dark wood French doors and thick, elegant, fluted white columns.
The door was opened by an older, thick-set man with buzzed black hair and sunglasses as well as the kind of earpieces worn by Secret Service agents.
"Ah, we've arrived," Virginia said, sliding out. The driver/bodyguard took her hand as she stepped out. "Thank you, Gerald. Leona, come with me, if you would. I'll show you the house."
I was next out, and I found myself lifted to my feet by Gerald's calloused, powerful hand. I mumbled, "thanks," to the burly man and followed after Virginia, glancing back at Shane. I would have rather had Shane give me the tour, as I hadn't had a moment alone with him since the picnic in Sudan. For all that I was irritated with him for holding back the truth from me, he was still the one familiar thing in my life, which was suddenly a very tumultuous thing. Shane watched me go, a thousand emotions shifting across his handsome features.
The front doors swung open as Virginia approached them, held by a pair of uniformed...servants, I guess you would call them. I wasn't sure. Butlers? Maids? People who worked in the house. Virginia swept past them without so much as a glance, but I thanked both of them and tried to keep up. She was moving swiftly, clad in an elegant but simple floor-length dress. The house was palatial. I'd only seen places like this in movies. This was something out of Jane Eyre or Mansfield Park , endless expanses of marble floors, grand, curving staircases and extravagant crystal chandeliers, suits of armor.
I had stopped in the middle of the foyer, which was bigger than the house I'd lived in with John. Virginia noticed I'd stopped and drifted back to my side.
"Don't let the trappings intimidate you, my dear. My husband has a flair for the dramatic. This house, if you can properly call such a monstrosity as this a house, is modeled after an eighteenth century British nobleman's estate. Something-upon-something-ford. I don't know. It's all grand and wonderful and entirely too big."
"How can I not be intimidated, Mrs. Sorrenson? This place is...god, it's incredible. I don't even know how to process what I'm seeing."
"Please, call me Virginia. And really, darling, it's just a house. A rather over-large one, but still, just a house."
I snorted. "Yeah, just a house. Okay." Virginia cocked an eyebrow at me, which I was learning was a Sorrenson family trait. "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't offend you. It is beautiful. It's just...overwhelming."
"Oh, well it is that, even to me, sometimes. Try finding someone in this house. If Henry isn't in his study, I need a search party and walkie talkies to find him. I told him we should get intercoms installed, but he said it wasn't authentic, and the electricity was bending the design enough as it was." I must have looked surprised, because she laughed. "Oh, you'll see what I mean about Henry when you meet him. He doesn't do things halfway. When he decided to do a period design, he originally wanted it to be completely authentic. All fireplaces and lamps and outhouses and so on. Well you can be sure I put my foot down. I told him he made it a normal, twenty-first century home, with TVs and electricity and indoor bathrooms and all that, or he could find someone else to live in it with him. But he refused on the
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