Chapter Twelve

"Sir? Mr. Miller," a voice called and Cole looked up from his sitting position.  All the chairs and decorations prepared around the private graveyard of the Millers had been cleared away, leaving the one Cole sat on. His hair was wet and the shoulder pads of his suit were dampened. He blinked to focus; he had been a bit drawn in by the memories of his dead relatives that he had forgotten where he was. 

"Yes, Mrs. Pepple," Cole responded, allowing a polite smile to surface. He remembered she was the housekeeper and was a bit surprised to see she was still working for his father. She looked older too from the last time he saw her. The round figured woman with her bright red hair that was always tightly pulled back in a bun was one of the motherly figures he had growing up here on this estate. She stood with her hands clasped wearing her matronly uniform with about ten women standing behind her.

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