The Secret Heiress by Susie Warren Page A

historic?”
    “No. It was built five years ago with the intent to have an old world feel, but it offers all of the modern conveniences.”
    He parked the Land Rover in the front circle and got out to open the door for Anna. She had already stepped out of the vehicle and was straightening her shirt and running a hand through her hair.
    “I hope stopping by doesn’t seem intrusive to them. I probably should have changed.”
    He placed his hand on her lower back and guided her up the front path. “I called last night. They are excited to meet you. Don’t worry. Everyone who is part of the vineyard is relaxed. It’s understood that this is a hands-on operation.”
    He had warned them that she was a Bolles so hopefully they would be on good behavior. His grandparents were not huge fans of Oliver Bolles. There had been bad blood between Oliver and his father over a series of gambling debts. He had never completely understood the issue, but his grandfather never forgave Oliver for trying to financially ruin his son.
    He had formed a close relationship with both of his grandparents but had never taken an interest in his father’s life. The man had chosen not to meet him, and by the time his grandparents had reached out, he was dead. It was like the man didn’t exist, except occasionally he would see a sad look on one of his grandparents’ faces and in that moment the grief was real enough.
    His grandmother opened the door and invited them in. She was in her gardening clothes, still holding her gloves with smudges of dirt on her pants.
    “I lost track of time. I must apologize. Please come in and I’ll go and wash up.”
    Alistair watched his grandmother disappear. “That was my grandmother, Rose Martin. She’ll be back in a few minutes. My grandfather is probably on the back porch.”
    He brought her through the cottage to an expansive enclosed porch along the back of the cottage. His grandfather was reading the paper.
    “Granddad, I’d like you to meet Anna Bolles.”
    He stood up and offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Bolles, please call me Arthur.”
    She shook his hand and said, “Anna, please.”
    He gestured to the sofa and Anna sat down. He had never brought a woman over to formally meet his grandparents. They had met some of his dates out at events, but he had never felt the need to bring a woman over to meet them.
    “I don’t know where Rose is. Maybe the garden?” His granddad relied on his wife to make small talk.
    Alistair sat next to Anna. “She let us in and is washing up. We’ve spent a couple of days at the vineyard.”
    His grandfather put his paper down. “The harvest is not long off. We’ll see how some of your new varieties work out.”
    For several minutes, they all discussed the coming harvest.
    His grandmother came in with the housekeeper who was carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.
    Everyone stood up. Alistair said, “Nan, this is Anna Bolles. My grandmother, Rose Martin.”
    Anna smiled and said, “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Martin.”
    “You as well, my dear. Please call me Rose.”
    The housekeeper placed a three-tier cake stand at the center of the table with a layer of sandwiches, a layer of cakes and a layer of scones. She then set out plates and teacups.
    Rose asked, “Anna would you like Earl Grey, peppermint, chamomile, English Breakfast?”
    “Peppermint, please.” Anna accepted the teacup.
    His grandmother served him and his grandfather Earl Grey and then peppermint for herself.
    Anna served herself a sandwich and a scone.
    “We are very fortunate to have a housekeeper that likes to bake.”
    “Everything is delicious,” Anna said and took a small bite. “Thank you for having me.”
    “I knew your father,” Rose offered.
    Anna placed her teacup down. “Unfortunately, I didn’t know him well. I saw him occasionally when I was a young child and then years went by and then I saw him shortly before he died.”
    “I’m sorry. You must have been