The pebbled stones crackled under their feet as Susan and Matt walked along the drive toward the gardener’s lodgings at the rear of the mansion. Except for an occasional exchange of pleasantries and smiles, neither spoke.

Distracted by a buzzing sound, Matt stopped. “Do you hear that?”

“It’s my son up to his usual tricks. There!” she pointed behind them. Following them and parallel to the drive was a drone. “Since his Aunt Isobella bought him that ne...