Serendipity's Repast

CHAPTER 2

The back of the limousine was stocked for a party within a party. Feeling somewhat out of her element, Bridget was too nervous to eat or partake of any of the alcoholic beverages that were inside the limousine's mini-bar.

Instead, she opened an individual bottle of club soda and sipped that while she was being driven to what, she was told, was to be the location of the blowout she was to be catering.

The scenery between the airport and the ranch was breathtaking, changing from a cityscape to a countryside right before her eyes. She found herself really appreciating it, especially given the icy snowdrifts she'd left behind a few hours ago.

After some time, the limousine approached a rather palatial estate-it couldn't possibly be called a house. Curious, Bridget opened the partition that separated her from the driver.

"Um, excuse me?"

"Yes, Miss?" Mathias responded, never taking his eyes off the road.

"Are we making a quick pit stop for some reason?" she wanted to know.

It was his turn to say "Excuse me?"

Bridget decided to word her question more succinctly and to the point. "Why are we stopping here?"

"Because Mr. Foster said you would be staying here."

Bridget saw his eyes look at her curiously in his rearview mirror. She blinked. "This is the Silver Spur Ranch?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Omigod," she murmured, stunned as she stared out the window at the incredible property.

If this was her client's so-called "home," just who on earth was she working for? This had to go beyond just an average millionaire. Whoever owned this estate was into some serious, serious money.

Was she going to be able to deliver to the client's satisfaction? The size of her butterflies' wings doubled in size.

Do this right, Bridg, and your future will be set.

Now all she had to do was not mess up, she told herself.

The driver brought the limousine to a stop in front of the mansion at the end of a long, winding driveway. Bridget fully expected to see someone at the front door, but there was no one there to greet her, not even the elusive Mr. Foster.

Mathias carried her suitcases into the house, leaving them, and her, in the foyer. Tipping his hat, he then disappeared.

She was alone.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Bridget called out, raising her voice.

Her words echoed back at her in the high-ceilinged foyer. All that did was succeed in reinforcing the wide-opened emptiness.

When the phone on the table at the bottom of the winding staircase rang, Bridget all but jumped out of her skin.

Looking around, she expected to see a maid or even a butler materialize out of the shadows to answer it, but no one came.

And the phone went on ringing.

Unable to help herself, Bridget answered it on the fifth ring. "Hello?"