He nods, as if to himself and leads me into the study. I note the space as I have everything so far, writing in my tablet, reminding myself of how the layout is in comparison to the doors and windows. I’ll walk these spaces several times, but this initial walk-through is always so I see the space from its weakest points, its vulnerabilities, not from a place of how to strengthen them.
A fireplace sits in the northern wall. The northern wall seems solid. No windows. No doors. Probably more structurally sound as well. The northern side of this house will be covered in ice in the winter months anyway. No use in prettying it up.
“Are there coils in the roof for snowmelt?” I ask.
My friend pulls his chin back. “I’ll have to ask. It’s one of the hazards of buying in July.”
“I’d bet it does. And a heated driveway. That doesn’t matter to me, but the roof might.”
A spiral staircase takes us down from a corner of the room into the third-floor game room. An expensive pool table has pride of place in the center, but huge sofas and mounted televisions show this room is so much more. A kitchenette with a full wet bar rounds out the space at the mouth of a dark hall.
There are four bedrooms on this level. All with private bathrooms. Two have Juliette balconies. All have floor-to-ceiling windows. A full walk-in laundry room has two small windows on the side with less view.
It must’ve been some Hollywood type who built this place. The locals aren’t poor by any stretch, but this is loud money in a town where wealth whispers.
Down another floor is the main level I came in on. The dining room, chef’s kitchen, and butler’s pantry play supporting roles to the high-ceiling living room dominated by a wall of windows that slide open to a walk-out patio. Partially covered by what’s above, there’s shade in the summer and snow protection in the winter. But this one extends out almost like an infinity pool until you feel like you’ll topple over the edge and plummet to the valley below.
The parties that could be hosted here would be worthy of Sundance or Cannes. They’d certainly garner the attention of those who want to know what the über wealthy are wearing and how the other half live. Ayla and Christian would fit in. I would never be invited.
The owner’s suite is on this floor which is surprising. The views are obstructed by stone and metal for the living room views. And the bathroom has little natural light. It’s so odd for all this place is to have less for the owner in what should be their retreat. I keep my opinions to myself, all the while noting that it’s the safest room we’ve seen so far.
“I need to show you the wine cellar as well. And the staff quarters. They’re downstairs.” He begins to walk toward the huge double doors.
“How many garage bays are down there?”
“For automotive? Five? But side-by-side, UTV, snowmobiles and such, another two. There’s also storage for sledding, tubes, snowshoes, skis, furniture, and chemicals for the hot tub.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Geez, Briggs, could you have picked a place with more entry points?” It’s sarcasm, and he knows it, but damn this is going to be hard. Two and half days won’t touch what it requires.
“I know. But you saw the views?”
The views are spectacular.
“And there’s this.” He doesn’t flourish anything, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that only occurs when he has the upper hand. He pushes what looks like a windowsill, and the wall pulls out. A four-inch steel-framed door moves silently to open into a safe room.
Now that’s a relief.
Leaning in, I write on my tablet:
Twelve by twelve space.
Needs gun safe and emergency lighting.
That’s all I get because No Neck shoves me from behind and the door seals shut.
39
dread-doom mix
Lorien
Mom is in the middle of putting together all the fixings. Dad is manning the grill, beer in hand, looking uncomfortable in some discussion with Billy. Sam isresting, as if her day of doing nothing and being waited on hand and foot took too much out of her.
It takes me ten seconds before guilt swamps me and I feel shame rise up. I’d never say that about Strider. Never. I should be as kind to my sister. Who knows what all is happening with her?
The front door opens with a “Hello?” and I’m running.
Strider has to take a step back to brace for my hug. He rocks, absorbing the impact of me throwing myself into his arms, burrowing my face into his chest.
