Rich mahogany and warm maple gleamed with a mellow polish and he was aware that the room must be filled with old family pieces. The exterior alone of Chloe’s home, a white-pillared and ivied manor, should have been enough to tell him he was out of his league. But the interior bespoke a daunting history of wealth and family heritage. Now, in the formal parlor, the atmosphere wasn’t chilly. It was frigid. Mrs. Kimball’s nose was in the air. Across from him, she sat like the queen, her back stiffly held away from touching the matching loveseat. She’d just poured tea from a sterling silver tea service. Having refused a cup, Mr. Kimball stood by the fireplace. He had one hand on the ornate mantel and one hand in his jacket pocket and looked as if he were about to begin a speech. Edging forward on the settee, Theran turned sideways to face both the parents. Chloe sat frozen beside him like a store mannequin. Was she having second thoughts? Her pale loveliness had captivated him all over again.
