She felt a thrill when she saw the moss-covered roof of the farmhouse appear in the headlights, and she asked the driver to pull into the yard. She stepped out of the car as soon as it stopped moving, not waiting for the driver to open the door. She took a deep breath of the fresh, damp air, infused with familiar scents of home she loved.
She frowned when she detected the smell of a wood-burning fire and looked more closely at her house. There was a light on in the kitchen, and someone had started a fire in her old range, but no one should be here. The driver stood with her bags as she fumbled in her pocket for her key, and she asked him to stay and see her into the house.
As she approached the door, it swung open, and she saw the silhouette of a tall man framed in the light. Winnie felt the breath leave her body as she watched him step out with his arms open wide. “Welcome home, we’ve been waiting for you.”
She fell into her son’s arms and saw a second figure appear over his shoulder, her daughter. The driver placed her bags inside the house and quietly took his leave, seeing the old lady embraced by her son and daughter in his headlights as he drove from the yard.
Winnie looked into her son’s eyes with confusion on her face. He gave her the answers she needed as he led her into the warm, welcoming kitchen. “We got a call from America a few days ago, telling us to get here as soon as possible. The caller was a Mr. Bird, and he said he was a lawyer. He sent a car for me and a fancy private plane for Joy, just to make sure we would be here. I don’t know what you’ve been up to, mother, but he was insistent we be home when you returned.”
Winnie quietly blessed the lawyer, now an ocean away. She moved around the small kitchen to hug and kiss her grown children. “Oh I’ve got so much to tell you, let me get my coat off.” They helped her settle, and her daughter delivered her a steaming mug of tea, which she gratefully accepted. “Sit down, both of you. Let me look at you.”
They were as bemused by recent events as she had been when she had been summoned to America. “I have to tell you a story, it’s about a man I met and loved after your father died.” The brother and sister shared a surprised look and leaned forward, each holding one of their mother’s hands as she told her tale into the night.
The kitchen light spilled onto the worn cobbles of the farmyard until nearly three in the morning, when the family retired for the night with the surprising knowledge that their rich mother had been the undying love of a distant philanthropist.
The End
For Lesley
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the unwavering support of my wife Lesley, who never doubted for a moment that there was a book inside me, just waiting to be written.
My duo of beta-readers, Maureen and Terrie, offered good advice and caught many mistakes. Any remaining errors in the work belong to me, not them.
This is my first book, but it was the last one my father read. I’m glad he got to see it, even if it was only a first draft version.
I think he enjoyed it, I hope you will too.
About the Author
Paul was born in England and raised in the picturesque city of Bath. He lived and worked across the South of England and in London.
He moved to Canada in 1996 and lives in Ontario with his wife Lesley.
The Philanthropist’s Danse is Paul’s first novel.
Visit Paul at http://paulwornham.com
Twitter: @paulwornham
Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorPaul
THE PHILANTHROPIST’S DANSE
Copyright © 2012 Paul Wornham
Cover art by Judy Bullard www.customebookcovers.com
Book design and conversion to Kindle and eBook formats by Natasha Fondren ebookartisandesign.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events or locations is coincidental. All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read this e-book on screen. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the written consent of the author.
Edition: May 2012
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Dedication
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Philanthropist's Danse Page 39