Chapter 4

The drive out was quiet and uneventful; Darren mostly stayed silent as the two girls caught up on old times, responding briefly whenever either girl directed a question his way. Lily was dropped off in front of her place after promising to stop by later that evening, and five minutes later the limo was pulling up to the Carstairs' place. Mansion was a better word, he quickly amended--the place rivaled anything he'd seen in Bel Air.

There were several people waiting in the foyer as they entered--probably the staff, Darren thought. Kilmeny quickly made introductions. Mr. and Mrs. Harding--Paul and Betty--were the butler and cook, respectively, while the Craig brothers--Jack and Jake--were responsible for the grounds. "Most of the staff have Tuesday afternoons off, but I asked the senior staff to be here when you came," explained Kilmeny.

"A pleasure to meet all of you," said Darren, shaking heads all around.

"Your room's on the second floor," continued Kilmeny, "but there's something I need to show you first."

"As always, I am at your disposal."

Kilmeny looked sharply at him, but finding no trace of sarcasm (which he had assiduously schooled out of his expression and tone), said nothing and headed toward the back of the mansion. As the staff dispersed, he followed her to the end of the hallway, where she opened a massive oak-paned door into a large study. The two side walls were covered with rows and rows of books, while the wall facing the door was almost completely hidden behind all the electronics equipment stacked up against it. Kilmeny gestured for Darren to take a seat in front of a large video display, then punched in a string of numbers on a pad nearby. A few seconds later, a picture of a man sitting in a leather armchair popped up on the screen--real-time video, Darren surmised. "Hello, Mr. Miles," came a deep voice from the speakers. "How was your trip?"

Even if Darren hadn't just seen a picture of Steve Carstairs a day ago (extra background research on his part), the family resemblance between him and Kilmeny was quite striking. "Quite comfortable, Mr. Carstairs. Thank you for asking."

"After this, you're likely to see me only once or twice a year, when I stop by for holidays. I trust that you will find all things to your satisfaction during your tenure here. Please feel free to contact me should anything critical comes up." Glancing at his watch, he continued, "You must be tired from your flight, so I won't keep you. Good night, Mr. Miles." He reached out and pressed a button on his desk, and the screen went blank.

Darren sat back in the chair, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Give a guy some warning next time, will you?" he said, turning to face Kilmeny.

"Might as well get used to it," replied Kilmeny nonchalantly. "If there's one constant about this family, it's that we're as unpredictable as they-"

The study door flew open. "Hey, Kil, where are you hiding him?" said the girl bounding into the room. This must be Alana, Darren thought. Dead ringer for her picture. "Hello, Alana," he said, standing up and extending his hand. "I'm Darren."

Alana took his hand and shook it firmly. "You're not as tall as I thought you'd be," she said frankly. Like Kilmeny, she also came up to about his nose.

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Didn't you use to play basketball in college before you started acting? You were teammates with that Duncan guy before he started playing for the Spurs."

Wincing inwardly, Darren kept a smile plastered on his face. "No, I didn't go to Wake Forest; in fact, I haven't been to college. You're probably thinking of-"

"-Marc Blucas. I know." She grinned impishly. "The look on your face was priceless. But enough of the chitchat; I want to show you your room." She grabbed his hand, and all but dragged him out of the study. The last thing he saw was Kilmeny shaking her head with an amused expression on her face, mouthing 'Good luck.'

Darren's room was on the second floor. Actually, to call it a room would be an insult; it was more like half a wing. A sitting room, bedroom, and a bathroom with a sunken tub--it was probably as big as his entire place back west. The decorations and furnishings (down to the G4 on the study table, he was pleased to note) followed mostly blue and grey shades, except for the dark rose carpet. It had a feminine touch about it, but lacked the feel he was used to from a professional interior decorator. Hmm..."I really like the decorating; did you do it yourself?"

"Yes, I did," beamed Alana. "Wait, how did you know?"

"The room has a lovely touch--very elegant, yet cozy. However, it doesn't have the Old World look that's currently all the rage. That's why I thought you did it. Is this a hobby of yours, or something you'd like to go into?"

"Just a hobby, for now. I'm not quite sure what I'll major in for college yet. Oh, I forgot--you must be tired from your trip. I'll let you relax and unpack. Dinner's not until seven, so you'll have a few hours. See you later!" Alana bounded out the door as abruptly as her earlier entry, leaving a bemused Darren to settle into an armchair.

Two hours later, Darren had unpacked, made a few minor adjustments to the furniture, and was tinkering with the G4. I can definitely get used to this, he thought as he studied the almost-two-foot-long flat-screen video display. This beats an iMac any day of the week. Most of the important files and programs he had brought with him had been copied onto the hard drive, and he was trying to decide on a screensaver and wallpaper pattern when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

As the door opened, Lily stepped into the room. "Wow, I like what Lana's done with the place. The last time I saw this place, it looked like something from the set of Wuthering Heights."

"Hey there, stranger. Dinner's not ready yet, is it?"

"Not for a few more minutes. I like that gemstone wallpaper, by the way."

"It is pretty, but gets distracting after a while." Darren scrolled through a few more choices, then settled on a Kandinsky print. "Abstract expressionism isn't really my thing, but the paintings work well as wallpaper. Wouldn't actually want one on my wall, though."

"Hmm, it just might clash a bit with the Chagalls you have up. Are those repros, or the real thing?"

Darren looked incredulously at her. "You think I can afford a single Chagall, let alone all four I have up? No, the acting business hasn't that lucrative. Okay, I could probably afford one of his lesser works, but not without it putting a major hurting on my assets."