“Well, buddy, wish me luck. I’m going to track her down and make her listen to what I need to say.” I lean down and stroke Zeus’s head. He whimpers like he’s hoping I have a better plan than that. Even a dog recognizes what sets Adair MacLaine apart. She has champagne taste and a whiskey temper—and I’m on the wrong side of both.
The sultry summer day begins to fade as I drive out of the city. The sun is beginning to set, purple seeping across the horizon, when I reach Valmont. Stopping at the gates of Windfall, I wait for the security guard to put down his sandwich. He steps out of the gatehouse, clipboard in hand, and motions for me to roll down the window.
“Name?” he says in a bored tone.
“Sterling Ford.” I tap the Aston’s steering wheel as his finger trails down his list. I wait for him to ask me why I’m here or call up for permission. Not that he or anyone else is going to stop me from getting to Adair if she’s in there. It would be nice to do this the easy way, though.
Instead, he nods. “Thank you, Mr. Ford. One moment.”
I made the guest permission list. That must mean that I’m still on Malcolm’s good side. He’s not the MacLaine I want keeping me around. I tear down the drive, swerving around to the back. Since I’m not here to see Malcolm, there’s no need to walk through the front door.
No matter how much time passes, I remember every detail of this house. It’s a bit like the ninth circle of hell—not a place that you forget if you make it out alive. I wasn’t welcome here five years ago. I certainly never made a guest list. But I’ve been here plenty of times—each instance more memorable than the last. If Jack is right and Adair came home, she didn’t bother with the front door. That’s the first trick to surviving Windfall, keep a low profile. She would have gone around back, straight to the kitchen. I’ll bet she’s crying to Felix over a batch of cookies. The back entrance also has the benefit of being close to the servant’s staircase. I can use it to get to Adair’s wing of the house with little chance of running into anyone that I don’t want to see.
I rap softly on the back door before letting myself in. The Windfall kitchen is huge, meant to accommodate multiple cooks and servers for parties and holidays. I’ve always been a little jealous of the pristine Viking appliances and marble counters. That was before, when I’d never had more than a closet-sized kitchen in Queens to use. Now, I wonder what the point of it is other than for show. Then again, that’s the primary function of an estate like this. It’s only here to show off the MacLaine wealth. I can see it for what it really is today: a family ego.
Felix looks up up from the pot on the stove. His hand, holding a wooden spoon, freezes in mid-air. He manages to cover his surprise well, but although his face remains blank, dislike narrows his eyes. I wonder how long he can keep up the charade of pretending I’m a stranger. He’s done an excellent job so far.
“May I help you?” he asks. The sham continues, it seems.
“Don’t act like you don’t remember me, Felix,” I said dryly. He played along before. We both know exactly who I am, and I’m guessing he knows why I came back. Adair always confided in him.
“You’re Daddy’s friend,” a small voice pipes up and I turn to see Malcolm’s daughter sitting at the kitchen island. Large, blue eyes loom in her round face and she studies me critically. She obviously takes after her aunt.
“I am, but I came to see your aunt,” I say to her. Felix might take Adair’s side, but kids, in my experience, don’t know how to go along with deception. They might hide a cookie behind their back, but guilt is usually written all over their face. That makes her my new best friend. If Adair is here, she won’t be able to hide it. I’m not certain Felix will feel inclined to tell me if he’s seen her.
The girl purses her lips and shakes her head. “Auntie Dair isn’t here. She’s been gone all night. Do you know where she’s been?”
Now that’s a loaded question.
“I don’t. That’s why I’m here,” I say softly. I take a stool next to hers and turn my focus back to Felix. I suppose I have to sweet talk him now.
“Don’t look at me,” he says before I can press him for answers. “I haven’t seen her since this afternoon. She spoke with Malcolm and left in… a hurry.” Felix inclines his head, his eyes darting to the upper floors of the house. So he heard the fight. That’s not a surprise. Felix knows everything that goes on in this house.
“I suspect you’ve seen her since I have,” he says as he resumes stirring the pot. I don’t miss the irony.
I start to tell him to have her call me, but he’s unlikely to pass along that message. I can’t blame Felix for not liking me. He’s only ever heard Adair’s side of the story, and I’m sure she painted me as the villain. I’m going to need a different ally. Someone she’ll actually listen to. That’s the trouble. Most of our mutual friends are loyal to her. There’s no one in her family she’ll listen to. She’s too stubborn.
“Would you like hot chocolate? Felix is making me some,” the girl says.
The answer is sitting right next to me. How didn’t I see it? Adair loves the girl. I saw that the night I came to dinner. She might avoid her brother. Felix might not pass along a message. But a
