"So, you're that Yank granddaughter Maggie was always talking about," was the bland statement.

"Canadian. And you are?" Cairo asked, exhausted and annoyed beyond words, having been awake for almost 24 hours. Her plane had arrived at the airport in London too late for her to catch the train she had been planning on taking, so she had been forced to wait around for the next one. A stubborn dislike for sleeping in moving vehicles had kept her awake the entire trip, so exhaustion and the added disappointing parting words with Nick.

"Miriam Bast, your grandmother's caretaker and neighbour. Can't really call me a neighbour, I suppose, considering I lived with her in that monstrous house. Anyway, I'm to see you to the house and show you around. Carrie, is it?" the woman asked, her tone warming as she saw the signs of exhaustion around the edges of Cairo's persona.

"Cairo. Cairo Williams. Nice to meet you Mrs. Bast. So, my grandmother spoke about me, did she? Anything repeatable?" Cairo asked, as the woman led her to a battered grey car.

"Oh my, yes. Raved constantly about her 'little writer' as she called you. When she found out you had moved away from your family to pursue your career, I saw the old bitty get a little misty with pride," Miriam explained.

"Mrs. Bast, I don't think that we are talking about the same person. That woman wrote me letters after I published every book, telling me how horrible they were. She was a bitter old woman who hates me because I accomplished something that she never did. She would verbally tear my novels apart, including my first one, which I published when I was only sixteen. When I moved, she was the first person to call me, to warn that I was going to fail by myself, that I would never make it on my own. Maggie hated me," Cairo said frankly.

"Yeah, that she did. But she was also very proud of you, which is why she left you Brickwood. When we get to Brickwood, I don't want you to be overwhelmed by the place, never having seen it and all-"

"Brickwood?"

"The name of your grandmother's estate."

"Estate?"

"It had 10 acres of land surrounding it, along with what you Yanks - sorry, Canadians, like to call a pond, even though it's really a lake, on one side of it. The stables are tended by George McCarland who lives in the servants cottage close by it. He's a dear and won't be a bother. Now don't be overwhelmed by the amount of land you now own. A good three quarters of it is all woodlands and trails and such, which really are perfect for riding. Maggie loved her horses, and even at her old age, would ride each day. You'll be just fine there, I think," Miriam babbled on.

"10 acres? Stables? Servants cottage? Don't you think that's a bit much for one house?" Cairo asked, a bit amazed.

"Dear, it's no house. You'll see what I mean when we get there," Miriam warned her. As they had been talking, they had driven away from the small train station at the edge of a small town in northern England. They were headed down a narrow road surrounded by trees.

And then they pulled up into the driveway of the house and Cairo felt faint. It wasn't a house she had inherited after all. It was a mansion.

"You are kidding me. This must be the wrong place," Cairo protested. Amused by her amazement, Miriam laughed.

"Come, you foolish girl, let me show you your new home."

* * * *

"Yo, Mr. 3-Dimensional-Personality, what's with the 'tude?" Brian asked Nick, as he was gazing moodily out the window of the tour bus.

"Two words, B. Cairo's gone," AJ supplied. Nick smiled ruefully.

"I think she's mad at me. She hasn't called yet," Nick said, explaining his preoccupation.

"Give her time to sleep off the jet lag, man," Kevin said.

"Why is she mad at you?" asked Howie.

"Well…Megan drove us to the airport and…well, I kind of blew her off to talk to Megan. And then, when she left, she said 'I love you' and I kind of said only said ditto," Nick explained which was greeted by a series of groans.

"Tell me you didn't," they all chorused.

"I know, I know. Plus, she was all concerned about us and we had the whole 'is there anything wrong with us' talk. I can't wait until we hit Europe, because then we'll be together, and I can stop worrying about everything going wrong," Nick said.

"No kidding man. I suggest you call her, just to tell you love her or something gushy like that," AJ advised.

"I tried all ready, but she's not answering her cell phone."

* * * *

Elegant. Luxurious. Ancient. Formal. The "house" contained all the elements of a Tudor manor, all of which were not at all words that could be used to describe her grandmother. The house rivalled the ruins of a castle Cairo had seen on her way there. Many of the rooms were kept in their original form: stone walls, wooden floor and panelled glass windows. The rest were completely modernised, plush carpeting and furniture which was sheer opulence.

Cairo's eyes nearly fell out of her head as Miriam led her around the place.

"Brickwood is quite the place, isn't it? In the cellar, there's a proper dungeon and torture chamber. Empty of course, but the shackles are still there. And the wine cellar…Maggie had a fancy for wine," she droned on, leading her back down the spiralling grand stair case, into the foyer.

"Is that a library?" Cairo asked, catching a glimpse of the room. She walked in, and an entire room shelved with books greeted her. The room contained four leather couches and a large wooden desk pressed against a wall, the only wall space not covered by shelves, and that was because half of it was a large window, overlooking the long driveway and the gardens.

"On the desk, you'll find some books that may interest you," Miriam informed Cairo quietly. Intrigued by this, Cairo walked over to the desk and picked up a hard cover book from the top of the stack. It was Cat's Eyes, a novel she had written. Surprised, she tore into the rest of it. Every single one of them was by her.

Stunned, she turned helplessly back to Miriam, searching for an answer.

"She left you the house to make up for being such a spiteful person. She was jealous that you actually published a work of your writing, and she never did. She admitted this to me before she died. She even said that she did enjoy your stories, even though she would never admit that to you."

"Whoa," was all Cairo could say.

"Carrie, dear, you look exhausted. I have a room ready for you. I think you should sleep," Miriam suggested, to which a grateful Cairo nearly cried at the happy suggestion. She was both physically and emotionally exhausted, and she had an intense longing for Nick. And it hurt to think that he was a continent away.

* * * *

"Kay, you don't know how happy I am to hear from you! How's your trip going?"

"Not bad Nick. You should see this place. You have some vacation time planned at the end of the tour, right?"

"Yup. One month, at the least. Only another month or so left of this tour, and then we are free for a month, baby."

"Well, let the Boys know they're all invited here. And they can bring their girls. And any of the dancers and crew that want to come. And maybe a few of your groupies, too. I've got the room."

"You've got a sick sense of humour. But that's why I love you. That's also why I called, sweetie. I wanted to tell you that I love you and I can't wait to see you again."

"How long until you're in Europe?"

"We have two more weeks of our US tour left, and then we are all yours."

"Two weeks?? I can't wait that long! But I guess I have to, don't I?"

"You and me both."

"Well, I'll see you then."