I stared out the window as the jet began its descent. From a distance, all I could see was mountains and clouds and snow, but soon I could make out the tree line. A month ago, I’d never even been on a plane. Now I was flying private. No matter how focused I tried to stay on the task at hand, I couldn’t help wanting to lose myself in the vastness of the sight out that window.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this life was never meant for me.
We landed at a private airstrip. It took half an hour—and three enormous SUVs—to make the drive to True North, which was nestled higher up on the mountain, far away from the resort town below.
“The house has ski-in/ski-out access,” Alisa informed Max and me on the drive. “It’s private, but there’s a trail that will take you to the lodge below.”
As True North came into view, it hit me that the photos hadn’t done it justice. The A-line roof was white with snow. The house was massive but somehow still looked like an extension of the mountain.
“I called ahead to have the caretaker open up the house,” Alisa said as she, Oren, Max, and I stepped out onto the snow. “We should be stocked with food. I took the liberty of having appropriate attire delivered for you girls.”
“Fox me,” Max whispered, awed, as she took in the sight in front of us.
“It’s beautiful,” I told Alisa.
A soft smile crossed my lawyer’s lips, and her eyes crinkled at the edges. “This property was one of Mr. Hawthorne’s favorites,” Alisa told
me. “He always seemed different up here.”
A second, identical SUV parked next to ours, and Libby stepped out, followed by Nash and more of Oren’s men. A half dozen strands of Libby’s hair had fought their way free of her French braid and blew wildly in the mountain wind.
“I understand that Grayson and Jameson will be joining us,” Alisa said, deliberately turning away from Nash and my sister. “Whatever you do,” she cautioned, “do not let any of the Hawthornes challenge you to a Drop.”
