My Father's House

Chapter 1

Intrigue is not a passion, a hobby, or even an interest of mine. For this reason, it is with great reluctance that I agree to meet with you... 

My reply to the email played over and over in my head as I made my way through the streets of London to the spot that had been indicated by the mysterious contact. The message had been from someone who knew me. They had mentioned to meet them while "still in town" and "to be sure not to conflict with the true purpose of my visit."

In my mind, my adoptive mother Maria lectured, "Most attackers of young women are friends and acquaintances. Close friends in fact."

I pushed these thoughts out of my head and ducked into an alleyway at the back of the pub where we had arranged a meeting. Puddles of rainwater covered most streets in London this April. The weather wouldn't seem as damp to the locals as it did to me, but ten long years had passed since I had been a local in this city. The sun had been hidden by clouds hours before it had set. Now, at eight in the evening, the sky seemed darker than usual despite the meager attempts of the occasional street light.

Trying not to be a perfect victim if this person proved hostile, I chose the rear entrance to the pub. A dark hall took me toward the voices and clang of cutlery in the main dining room, past the swinging doors of the kitchen. Most of the kitchen staff ignored me, busy at work. Despite a few odd glances, I feigned confidence and made my way to the dining room.

"Sit by the window, back and to the left." That had been the extent of my instructions.

Taking in the half filled dinning room, I noted a man sitting at a table in the promised section of the restaurant. He had dark hair with flecks of grey, broad shoulders, and something familiar in his manner. Not rushing to my demise, I approached the table slowly, fixing my raincoat across my waist with a determined tug at its belt.

"Excuse me?" I had tried for confidence in my voice but achieved a tone of worried hesitation instead. The man turned, his blue eyes flashing with amusement. "Garrett!" I nearly shouted. "You scarred me to death! Why are we meeting like this?"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Harper, but subtlety is best." He glanced at me and gestured toward the seat opposite him.

Maria's words came flooding back to me. I sat before I had the chance to reconsider.

"This couldn't wait until Monday once we're back in the US? We could meet for dinner after work sometime." I looked sternly at him. We'd had a tumultuous relationship since our college days, but over the years, I'd come to appreciate the openness we shared.

"Ok, I understand your confusion, but this could not wait. Now listen..." It was then that I noted his attire. Impeccably dressed in a suit and patent leathers, he must have been heading to the opera. Unless...

"I swear, Gar. If you propose to me again..."

He sat up in surprise, straightening his black tie with a modicum of indignation. "No, c'mon. I'm not an idiot, Harper."

My shoulders relaxed. Three proposals in one year may seem flattering, but it was rather exhausting emotionally.

Suspicious, I eyed him. "Well, are you going to tell me why I'm here? There's a manuscript sitting on my nightstand at the hotel that needs to be looked at. Not to mention, I'm not exactly free tonight."

I let my jacket open a little, revealing a navy dinner gown, far too nice for a restaurant in the seedy alleyways of London.

"Yes, yes, I know you are a workaholic, and that you have an event tonight." Garrett played with the corner of the pages he held and continued, "You know I'm in Europe right now right? Looking at real estate."