Chapter Seventy-One

Jade held onto the bend of Miguel's arm as he escorted her up to the front door. It was painted charcoal black, which matched the slated shutters on the face of the house. Her heart pumped nervously, filling her eardrums with a whooshing sound that made her feel both clammy and woozy, like she'd had a bit too much to drink.

His mother lived in a stately home—a white brick, two-story nestled in the center of three hundred and eighty-two acres. There were rows of orchards spanning out for miles in every direction. A little plot of the yard surrounding the home was enclosed in a white picket fence. Above the blanket of snow were trimmed hedges, seasonal shrubs, and even blooming flowers. The tall house had four massive pillars on either side of the entry door. The large windows wrapped around both levels, along with a wideset wooden porch: the antebellum period, her favorite type of architecture.

Miguel reached out his index finger, pressing the doo