The Vampire's Pastry Chef (ONC 2022)

3 - It's Bigger Than Our Whole House!

God, that house was huge. Autumn gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward, tilting her head sideways in order to get a proper look at the mansion. It wasn't imposing, but it was impressive—especially how it seemed to fade into the trees.

How did I get here? Autumn wondered. How am I baking for this guy? She was a nobody, a self-taught baker who somehow managed to make rent payments on birthday cakes and cookies. And yet, here she was, parking the Subaru next to some sort of art-deco fountain with three horse-fish things spraying water in the air. She felt as out of place as cottage cheese in a cannoli.

"We're parking here?" Jordyn wondered.

"If they want me to move, I'll move," Autumn replied, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine. Once the car was off, she could hear the sound of water hitting the exterior. Well, free car wash, she thought with a shrug.

"Is anyone coming out?"

Autumn sat back and unbuckled herself. There didn't appear to be any movement in the mansion. "Let me see if I can find someone. Stay here."

"Ugh," Jordyn huffed, pulling out her cell phone. "I can't get a good shot through the windshield."

"You'll live," her mother replied, lips twitching in a smile.

Getting out of the car, Autumn walked around the front, shading her eyes with one hand. A narrow brick path angled off to the side of the house, dipping down a slight hill into the trees. "Hello?" she called out tentatively, standing on her tip-toes.

No answer. You'd think that a place as large as this would have some sort of groundskeeper or gardener wandering around. Okay, then, she might as well try the front door.

As she walked back around the car, a flash of movement in one of the upper-level windows caught her eye. Autumn turned and looked up. Standing framed in a big bay window was a tall, broad-shouldered man with blond hair.

Is that Mr Westbrook? she wondered.

"Ms Milford?"

The deep voice startled Autumn and she spun around; a burly, dark-skinned man in tan trousers and a blue polo shirt emerged from the front door. If Denzel Washington had become a linebacker instead of an actor, he would have looked liked like this guy. The man descended the stairs, an affable expression on his face. "Welcome to Ashford Estate."

Glancing at the car, Autumn gestured at Jordyn. "C'mon," she hissed, waiting for the teenager to get out.

"Mr Feldman?" she asked, moving to meet him in the middle of the courtyard. Jordyn bounced to a stop next to her.

"It is." He reached out and clasped her hand, fairly engulfing it in his massive one. "How was your trip? I hope the directions were easy to follow." He turned and shook Jordyn's.

"It was a little harrowing," Autumn admitted. "But the directions were fine."

Mr Feldman clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, we are off the beaten path, but Mr Westbrook enjoys the solitude."

"Was that Mr Westbrook I saw just now?" She gestured to the upper floor.

The butler didn't even look. "It may have been. His study is on the top floor." He said that casually, but Autumn took notice of the slight crease between his eyes. Oops.

The first rule of working for the rich: never ask too many personal questions. It was a piece of advice Marnie had given her just before they left. For the sake of getting out of here with all the money that was promised, Autumn vowed to keep her mouth shut and do her job. Now Jordyn ... well, her kid was another matter. She had a bright, vivacious personality that was in stark contrast with her mother's more reserved, practical nature.