What lay north of Santa Barbara was, quite simply, another world. She had heard locals call it the Middle Kingdom. As far as Kari was concerned, no title had ever fit a region better.
Looking back, Kari was filled with solemn awe at how she had managed the maze of home ownership. The answer was equally astonishing. Gradually, her tight little solitary world had been pried open to include others. People who were there for her. People who went out of their way to make her feel comfortable with the next incredible step.
Graham had dealt on several occasions with an attorney in San Luis Obispo, the closest real city to Miramar. Megan Pierce was fiercely intelligent, with a competent manner that had calmed Kari during their very first Zoom call. Megan had clearly been comfortable representing a young woman who was buying a home sight unseen, for cash, in a town she had visited only once. The attorney had not only handled the required documents but had helped anchor Kari to earth.
As she passed San Luis Obispo and took the county road north, Kari put on a favorite album,Ian Hart Plays Segovia. The traffic was very light; the road so empty she could let her mind drift. Kari found herself thinking back over her most recent conversation with Megan. Up to that point, all queries from the building contractor, Noah Hearst, had been passed through the SLO attorney. Kari had refused to involve herself in any details regarding the home’s interior. So many areas where Noah had wanted her input—the kitchen cabinetry, bathrooms, floors, windows, lighting fixtures, drawer handles, the walkway, the grout and tile colors. Kari had found the decision-making both frightening and baffling. She had determinedly held her distance. Then the week the home was finished, Megan firmly suggested it was time for Kari to connect with the man responsible for creating her new home.
When the Zoom conference opened, Kari saw the attorney’s familiar face alongside a strong-featured man in his forties, tanned and weathered by a life spent outdoors. Megan introduced Noah, then said, “I was in Miramar three days ago and stopped by the house. Noah is both a builder and an artist.”
Noah had a surprisingly gentle smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Langham.”
“Noah was a film set designer in a previous life,” Megan said.
He nodded. “I know a couple of agents who share your name. Justin and Max. Are they any . . .”
When a flash of very real fear on Kari’s face silenced the builder, Megan asked, “Is something wrong?”
Kari began the tragic process of backing away. “Maybe this is all just a terrible mistake.”
“Kari, does your family know of this acquisition?” Megan studied her frozen expression, then asked Noah, “How much contact do you have with your Hollywood friends?”
“None at all,” Noah replied. “And most of them are no longer friends.”
“Noah’s company was legally stolen out from under him,” Megan explained. “The partner he had trusted with his professional life stabbed him in the back.”
“I haven’t returned to LA since signing the final documents,” Noah said. “I hope I never do.”
“My senior partner, Sol Feinnes, is now partners with Noah in a yacht,” Megan went on. “Sol is the most honorable man I have ever met. He would never enter into such a venture with anyone he did not trust.”
“Say the word,” Noah told Kari. “I will never mention who bought the house. Ever. To anyone.”
It was the concern they showed her, the respect for her situation, even when they did not understand, that convinced Kari and allowed her to say, “I am trying to make a refuge. Somewhere totally private.”
“I doubt anyone will understand that better than I do,” Noah said. “The original farmhouse was where I retreated after leaving the Los Angeles nightmare behind. I’m selling only because my wife is running a surgical ward at the San Lu hospital.”
Megan said, “I think you should trust him to honor your wishes, Kari.”
A long moment, a pair of uncertain breaths, then, “All right. Thank you.”
But Megan wasn’t finished. “So your intention is to keep your family at arm’s length. Is that correct?”
“My family can’t ever know where I am.”
“Perhaps you should think about using me as a cutout,” Megan suggested. “All contact goes through me.”
“This is possible?”
“Oh, absolutely. My firm performs this service for several highly successful individuals.”
“I would like that,” Kari said. And added, “I need it.”
“Consider it done.” Megan addressed the builder. “You had something you wanted to ask Kari?”
“Absolutely. Whatever you don’t like about the home’s interior, anything that doesn’t suit, I’m happy to change.” When Kari started shaking her head, Noah asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
“If somebody wanted me to repaint a segment of a finished canvas, I’d refund their deposit and ask them to never contact me again.”
“Lucky you.”
