Geoffrey stood by the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect. He was older, maybe sixty, with gray hair that was neatly combed and a short, well-trimmed beard. His eyes were kind, his smile gentle, and he wore a simple sweater and dark trousers that looked comfortable but neat.
"Geoffrey has been with the family for decades," Jason said. "He practically raised me."
Geoffrey inclined his head. "You were unraisable, sir."
Jason clutched his chest in a mock offense. "Wounded."
"Would you like to show your guests to their rooms, sir?"
Jason sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine." He gestured for everyone to follow. "This way."
He led them down a long hallway, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. The walls were lined with more photographs, landscapes mostly and a few paintings of flowers that looked like they had been painted by someone who loved them very much. Doors opened onto bedrooms, each one different from the last.
