Michael came around to open my door, but I was already halfway out of the car, my Burberry duffel bag over my shoulder. I took in the entirety of the house, not knowing what to expect. The mountain air had a sharpness to it, and I inhaled deeply, feeling a cold freshness down deep in my lungs.
My father had lived and died here. And now I was here to clean up the mess, while also dealing with my own grief. I inhaled again and then exhaled slowly. This would be the hardest thing I might ever do. But he’d want me to be strong. He believed in me.
“Mr. Weston is inside,” Michael said. “I’ll grab your luggage, Miss Hunt. The door should be unlocked.”
It was weird to walk through a door without knocking, but I guessed this was my house now, legally speaking. So it was silly to knock. But it still felt… odd.
The foyer of the home was as impressive as the exterior. It led to an open living room decorated in rich, rustic colors and décor. Very mountain-esque. The windows to the living room were floor to ceiling, and the ceiling was two levels above my head, affording an impressive view of the lake. Outside, I could see the ground sloped down to a pool (which was covered for the winter) and a hot tub, which was not.
“Jesus, Dad,” I said to myself. “You really outdid yourself.”
I could see the moon’s reflection in the great Lake Tahoe, and a billion stars shown over it, not dimmed a bit by the casinos and hotels on the far side of the lake. I was in my own world on this side. Another planet practically.
I dropped my bag to the floor and walked over to the plush sectional couch of the living room, collapsing on it.
“I see you made it okay,” a deep voice said from behind me. I recognized it immediately. It was Nolan Weston.
I didn’t bother turning around, “You sound disappointed.”
“Of course not,” he said. “I just know it was a sudden trip to be taking after getting the worst kind of news a person can get. So it’s good to see you made it here safely and can now take a moment for yourself.”
I rolled my eyes, “Did you rehearse that?”
He sighed, “No. I meant it. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”
I turned around to ask him what he could imagine, and I gasped.
This trip was truly full of surprises.
Nolan Weston stood behind me in a cable knit sweater and dark denim jeans. He was tall, with dark slicked back hair, and a rugged face. He looked like something straight out of a Brooks Brothers catalog. He had the slightest graying at his temples but that didn’t matter. I immediately recognized him.
Nolan Weston was not just any of my father’s attorneys. He was the new guy from years ago. The one we’d met in Salzburg. Or the one my father had met in Salzburg and I had spied on.
I wasn’t sure what to say next. All I knew is that things had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.