Willow nodded and turned her attention to the small boxed package tucked inside Aaliyah's envelope. It had no return address, just her name written in neat script across the brown paper. Inside was a delicate silver featuring a rose pendant, nestled in white tissue paper. The accompanying card was more detailed than usual.For my beautiful Rose. You were perfect then. From a devoted fan.
"I get these fairly regularly," she said, though her voice didn’t hold much enthusiasm. "Ever since my character's name was Rose on the TV show fifteen years ago, people have been sendingme rose-themed gifts. When I was playing the part, I received many, but they slowed after the show. But recently, they've been coming much more frequently." She held up the necklace to catch the light, but Casper noticed the slight tension in her shoulders as she examined it.
"What do you usually do with them?"
"I donate them to local women's shelters. The director there says the women love them. She said something about feeling beautiful but having thorns to protect themselves. The jewelry represents that strength." Her voice softened with genuine warmth. "She told me it makes them feel empowered."
Casper felt something shift in his chest as he watched her place the necklace back in its box. Here was a woman who could easily afford any jewelry she wanted, who probably received expensive gifts regularly, and she was giving away tokens from strangers to women who needed to remember their own worth.
"That's..." He paused, searching for the right words. "That's really thoughtful."
She looked up at him with a slight smile. "It just seems like the right thing to do. I have more than enough. Why not share them with women who could use a reminder that they deserve beautiful things, too?” She fingered the necklace around her neck. “This is the only one I kept.”
His gaze moved to the delicate chain around her neck. He hadn’t thought about the diamond pendant, but now realized it was fashioned to look like rose petals with a small diamond in the middle. He lifted a brow in silent question.
She smiled, seeming to read his mind. “It was given to me by the actress who played Rose’s mother on the show after we’d received news of the network picking up the show for another season. She was such a kind woman. She told me that I was the reason the show was so popular.”
As they sat at the table again to finish their lunch, Casper recalibrated his expectations about this assignment. He'd been prepared for a high-maintenance celebrity, someone who might be difficult to work with or who'd see him as nothing more than hired help. Instead, he was discovering a woman who was genuine, thoughtful, and refreshingly unpretentious.
Willow Thorton was definitely not what he'd been afraid of finding, and that realization was both a relief and a new kind of challenge.
9
After rinsing off the lunch dishes and putting them away, Willow stood near the counter, her hands clasped in front of her in a gesture that struck Casper as both polite and slightly uncertain. She held his gaze steadily, then glanced around the room as if seeing it through his eyes for the first time. "What would you like to do next? A tour of the house?"
"That would be good," he replied, appreciating her straightforward approach.
"I wasn't sure what the protocol should be," she said with a little shrug that made her seem more approachable and less like the polished celebrity he'd been expecting.
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "There's no specific protocol for you to follow. If the house were empty, I'd assess it alone, but since you're here, I'll let you give me the tour. I'll evaluate everything as we go." He gestured toward the front door. "I just need to run back to my vehicle and get my tablet and equipment."
"If you'd like, you can bring in whatever luggage you have with you," she offered, her tone genuinely accommodating.
"That would be helpful." Her politeness and consideration steadily dismantled whatever concerns he'd harbored aboutworking with a former Hollywood star. He slipped his boots back on and jogged out to the rental SUV, retrieving his duffel bag, briefcase, and the specialized equipment bag that Bert had prepared for him. Looking around, he appreciated the vast openness of the landscape surrounding her property.
Back inside, he went through the now-familiar ritual of removing his boots, setting his luggage neatly near the door, and pulling out his tablet. "Ready when you are," he said, stylus poised over the tablet screen.
She lifted her hands in an encompassing gesture as she glanced around the space. "As you can see, this is the living room. Overall, the house isn't very large, but since I live alone, I don't need a lot of space to entertain."
He caught something in her tone that wasn’t embarrassment, exactly, but perhaps a subtle defensiveness. He wondered if she felt the need to explain why she didn't live in the kind of mansion people might expect from someone with her background and success. He wanted to tell her that he lived in a bunkhouse with three other grown men and thought her home was perfectly proportioned and infinitely more welcoming, but he kept that observation to himself.
Instead, he walked methodically around the living room, his trained eye cataloging details while his tablet recorded measurements and notes. The large window facing the front would be ideal for security monitoring equipment. He paused to appreciate the rustic stone fireplace flanked by built-in bookcases, noting how the entire space felt genuinely lived-in rather than staged for photographs.
What struck him most were the personal touches that revealed the woman behind the public persona. The paintings were all landscapes with rolling hills and mountain vistas. There was nothing flashy or expensive-looking, just scenes that spoke of someone who found peace in natural beauty. The framedphotographs scattered around the room appeared to be candid shots of friends and informal gatherings, not the glossy publicity photos he might have expected.
Notably absent were any images from award shows, Hollywood premieres, or her modeling days. He remembered reading in the briefing materials that she was estranged from her parents, so he assumed the smiling faces in the pictures were friends who'd earned their place in her sanctuary through genuine connection rather than professional obligation. The room felt like a comfortable space where someone actually lived, not a showpiece designed to impress visitors.
The kitchen tour was brief since they'd just spent time there, but he made careful notes about the sliding glass door and the window over the sink, both of which he'd already flagged as potential security concerns. A sturdy door led to the attached garage, and when he stuck his head through to survey the space, he was pleased to note the absence of windows that might provide unauthorized access.
A small powder room and coat closet completed the main living area, both easily secured and monitored.
She led him down the hallway, pausing to open a louvered door that revealed a compact laundry area with a stackable washer and dryer. With a self-deprecating chuckle that made her seem even more approachable, she added, "I don't have a dedicated laundry room, but then again, it's just me. I promise it will handle anything you need washed while you're here."
"It'll be fine," he assured her, touched by her consideration for his practical needs. The gesture was small but appreciated.
The next door opened into a small bedroom that had been converted into an office space. He stepped inside and looked around carefully, noting the single window as the room's only potential exterior access point. She'd set up a simple desk arrangement and lined one wall with bookshelves that heldan impressive collection of reference books, novels, and what appeared to be research materials.
His attention was drawn to several prestigious awards displayed with understated pride among the books. He recognized an Oscar that caught the afternoon light streaming through the window. A few photographs showed her in elegant evening gowns at what were clearly industry events, surrounded by people he assumed were other celebrities and industry professionals. Even in this room that showcased her considerable professional achievements, everything felt tasteful and warm rather than boastful or ostentatious.
