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We made our way through the house that seemed a never-ending maze of one elegantly appointed room after another. We reached a kitchen—one of two, I learned—that looked as if it should be featured in a catalogue or home and garden TV show. The view beyond the quartz counters and steel appliances was something out of a lottery-winner’s greatest fantasy.
Lucien opened french doors and led us to a patio shaded by a pergola laced with vines. Deep seated chairs and couches in silvery gray with pale blue cushions—nicer than we had in our living room at home in Montana—were set up around a table that already bore a pitcher of lemonade and six glasses. I led Noah to the couch and sat on his left, staring like a fool at a second seating area to our left that had afireplace.
I swung my slack-jawed gaze forward, to a view of a glittering pool, gardens, lawns, and a tennis court, all surrounded by trees instead of walls, though I suspected there was one lurking somewhere in the lush foliage, separating the Lake manor from its equally impressive neighbors.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Ava said, sitting next to me. “Where’s the moat?”
“Oh, ha, no, it’s beautiful. Like something out of a dream.”
“But now Lucien tells us you hail from Montana,” Mrs. Lake said. “I’ve heard that the views there are nothing short of stunning.” She seemed to realize what she’d said and cleared her throat delicately, watching her son.
I fumbled for something to say, and Lucien rescued the whole situation with one word. “Lemonade?” He poured the drink but sat with us, and it was clear the Lakes considered him more of a family member than an employee.
“Would you like some?” I asked Noah, who had gone quiet. He nodded and I reached to take a glass. “Twelve o’clock,” I murmured, and he took it with his right hand while his left found mine. I entwined my fingers with his, which immediately drew beaming smiles from his parents and Lucien. Ava gave us a more circumspect glance: not quite a frown, definitely not a smile.
Mrs. Lake led a conversation of small talk and niceties, inquiring about the weather in New York and how comfortable I found the townhouse. Hundreds of unasked questions buzzed around us, and Mr. Lake, apparently, wasn’t one for holding back. Noah had told me he was semi-retired but the decisive boldness that had been a hallmark of his financing days was very much evident.
“So, how did you do it, Miss Conroy?”
“How did I…?”
“How did you tame our son? Lucien tells us you’re a violinist. Was it music that soothed the savage beast?”
“Jesus, Dad,” Noah muttered.
“I think it’s a fair question, especially given the last time we spoke. I thought I’d never see this day. None of us did, and yet here we are.” Mr. Lake turned his smile to me. “We owe Miss Conroy a huge debt of gratitude.”
“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “I was just doing my job. It was Noah who—”
“No,” Noah said, raising his head. “Dad’s right. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Charlotte, and if the rest of you want to heap praise on her for sticking it out through my bullshit, then go ahead. She deserves it. And while we’re getting things out in the open, I’ll officially apologize for being an insufferable asshole to all of you for the last six months. I’m sorry for that, and I hope you can all forgive me.”
There was a short silence wherein everyone glanced anywhere but at each other. It was broken by Ava’s slow clap. “That was just beautiful,” she said. “Really. So emotional…I’m overcome over here.”
Noah bit back a smile. “Oh, shut up.”
Everyone burst out laughing and the tension that had been hanging over us was dispelled at once. The conversation flowed easily from one topic to another while the afternoon grew progressively hotter.
“Would anyone like to take a swim?” Mrs. Lake asked. “Charlotte? If you’re not too tired…?”
I had been stifling a yawn and quickly brought my hand down. Noah had asked me not to mention the mugging until we’d all settled in a bit. I had agreed then and I agreed now, as his poor mother was obviously still trying to cope with the fact that her son was blind. I caught her watching him with a melancholy love that was full of joy to see him but also aching for his loss. I realized too, that the Lakes hadn’t been allowed to grieve for Noah either; he hadn’t let them until now.
“I’d love a swim,” I said brightly. “Thank you.”
“Noah?” Mrs. Lake asked, and there was just as muchCan you?as there wasWill you?in that question.
“Sure.” He shrugged with a smile. “Why not?”
Ava showed us to the west suite, bickering lightly with Noah all the while, before adjourning to her room to change into her suit.
“I’ll meet you back here in ten,” she said in a clipped, business-like tone.
“Don’t mind her,” Noah said as we stepped into our room. “Sounds like she’s still on office time. Ava lives to work.”
I nodded absently, staring. “You could fit my old apartment in Greenwich in here.”
Noah slipped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Is it too much after last night? Should we have waited to come here?”
“No.” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe better to be here and distracted than in the city dwelling on it. What about you? This must be harder for you than for me.”
