“My business.”
“Moreplaydates?” I was pushing it, and I knew it.
“This conversation is over.”
“I really do feel like we’ve had a breakthrough today, though.” I crossed my legs, realizing for the first time that I was still wearing my tacky sweatpants and hoodie from the flight, and that my parents would probably vomit on impact when they saw me. “Now that we’ve opened up about our insecurities, it will be easier to address them and try to be nice to one another. Who knows? Maybe it’s the beginning of a friendship. The way you opened up to me—”
“Brat,” he cut me off.
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
An hour later, the Ford Explorer pulled in front of an all-white Mediterranean-style mansion. The manicured lawn was precisely cut, as if the landscaper had used a ruler. There were grand fountains, dramatic columns, and all the status symbols required of a wealthy Dallas family.
Before Ransom turned off the ignition, an unfamiliar man in uniform greeted us from my side of the car. I rolled the window down.
He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a sweaty face and hard-earned wrinkles. “Sorry, folks, this is a private property.”
“I know. I’m the daughter of the people who own it.” I arched my eyebrows meaningfully, the international signal for back-the-hell-off.
His demeanor did not change. In fact, he looked even more suspicious.
“You’re not Hera.” The accusation cut through his tone like a blade.
“No,” I agreed. “I’m their youngest, Hallie.”
He seemed momentarily confused. Finally, he turned around and pressed a walkie-talkie to his mouth. Static noise followed, along with an answer to his question. He began pacing in front of the car. A cold shiver rolled along my skin. I hadn’t visited for so long. I felt like an intruder. For a moment, I even doubted my own legitimacy. Was I truly Anthony and Julianne’s daughter, or had they disinherited me?
“Relax,” Ransom rasped. “We’re getting inside if I have to run this asshole over.”
A warm rush passed through me. It was odd, and almost felt like I had a stomachache. No one had ever stood up for me before.
Finally, the man approached the car again. I took a quick breath, bracing myself for the worst. I hadn’t spoken to my parents since the nip slip.
“Park at the end of the street, then follow me.” He looked grim and uninviting.
Ransom and I exchanged looks. Ransom did as he was told. When we both got out, I crooned, “I think I finally found someone who gives you a run for your money in the personality department.”
The man, who never bothered introducing himself, guided us through the familiar, melodramatic black and white checkered two-story foyer. The house was vast and empty, the clicks of our shoes ricocheting through the walls with a depressing echo. Maids in blue ironed uniforms hurried along the hallway, keeping their gazes down and posture straight. The sound of a piano lesson in session drifted from one of the drawing rooms. My parents often welcomed gifted kids from low-income families for piano lessons. It was good PR, and my mother was a classical music enthusiast.
I never knew what to think about my parents’ charitable gesture toward children. On one hand, it was undoubtedly cool to give back to the community. On the other—shouldn’t they start by being kind to their own child?
The man led us to what my parents referred to as the guest living room. A preppy, all-white space with a pale bricked fireplace and matching brown leather couches. The entire space was littered with family photos of Mom, Dad, and Hera. Sometimes Craig and the family dogs, Bubs and Bamboo, were also featured. Not a single picture included me. Mainly because I’d refused to show up to any of the functions in which these photos were taken. The one holiday I did tag along for—a ski trip—I refused to be a part of the picture. I didn’t want to give my parents the pleasure of pretending we were one, big, happy family.
My palms began to sweat as I took a seat on a lonely stool. I couldn’t stomach sitting on real leather. I prayed that Ransom did not notice how absent I was from the family memorabilia, but doubted it. He had a sharp eye.
An assistant wearing a black swanky suit trotted inside on high heels.Daphne. Mom’s right hand.
“Hello, Hallie. Hello, Ransom. How wonderful that you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.” Her subtle but pointed dig was aimed at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Thorne are so excited to have you despite not being given any prior notice.” She smiled broadly, her gaze halting on Ransom for a moment too long as she took him in fully. “Understandably, they are currently tied up in prior engagements, but they should be with you shortly. Anything to drink?” Her scarlet smile stretched. Her platinum hair was slicked back. I hated that I was wearing rags. And I hated even more that I didn’t have anything to change into here. Leaving anything here would be like recognizing this house was a part of my life.
“Coffee for me. No sugar, no milk.” Ransom stood up and walked over to one of the windows overlooking my mother’s lush garden.
“Water for me,” I added. “Tap, please.”
“Your mother told me the environment is your new passion.” She smiled. “Better than designer bags, right?”
I was shocked to discover my mother remembered anything about me, let alone talked about me to someone from her staff. Too bad my “sudden” passion with the environment started when I was five and left unattended to watch a pretty grim global warming documentary that sent me into meltdown mode.