Chapter 40
The conversation during lunch feels so natural and flows easily, with Jess joining in more than I expected.
She pretty much knows all about our little investigation by now, and she’s completely invested in it.
I’ve noticed she’s been reading more Nancy Drew books lately, and I wonder if she’s secretly trying to get more detective experience through those.
She and Jameson even start spewing theories to each other.
I had tried to keep the details from her, but she’s too smart.
She’s known about the mystery for weeks now.
By the end of lunch, though, she’s flipping through her new book, tuning us out. I don’t stop her. She loves getting lost in a story. And honestly, there could be worse things.
We ask the waiter and a busser if the name Sonny means anything around here, but they both look clueless.
It was a longshot. The waiter does mention a hallway with old historical photos that might be our best bet for finding something from that long ago, though, so we’re not completely without a clue.
The hallway is on the opposite side of the large property, so we take our time exploring other areas first and soaking up the beautiful day.
Jameson and Jess walk a few steps ahead, tossing more theories back and forth as they wander through the wide, high-ceilinged room.
And that’s when it hits me—watching Jameson with my daughter, putting in all this effort but making it look effortless—I’m truly falling for him.
Sure, this may have started out of lust, since I was incredibly attracted to him from the start.
But I’d be an idiot if I hadn’t at least had a little hope that it would turn into something more.
He’s perfect. What foolish girl wouldn’t want to be pursued and swept off her feet by Jameson O’Neill—a sweet, retired, wealthy CEO searching for a simpler life?
And on top of that, he’s one of the most achingly handsome men I’ve ever laid eyes on. I haven’t seen pictures of him when he was younger, but I’d bet he’s one of those men who really grew into his looks as he got older. He’ll probably only keep looking better with age, which is just unfair.
Oh, and I can’t forget the huge dick.
He glances back and catches me staring. Our eyes lock for a moment, and something passes between us. His tight-lipped smile reaches his eyes, melting my heart with just one glance. Then he turns his attention forward again, walking side by side with my daughter.
For now, I think I’ll just enjoy where things are.
Not everything needs to be said out loud, especially since we really haven’t even known each other for that long.
Yes, I’m admittedly developing strong feelings, but it’s not just me involved in this.
I don’t know if I’m ready to have the talk yet.
I also don’t want to scare him away just yet.
So, I continue watching them and soaking in the moment.
We grab a coffee, a tea, and a hot chocolate to go, then head outside to walk a paved path with a stunning view of the mountains, trees, and the lake in the far distance.
The crunchy yellow and brown leaves scattered across the stone walkway fill me with a wave of nostalgia.
For what, exactly, I don’t know. But it feels warm and happy, and that’s the best way I can describe it. I breathe it in deeply.
“You like the smell?” Jameson asks with a hint of a smile.
“It’s the best. The scent of dewy, crunchy, falling leaves. Nothing else like it.”
“Does it remind you of something?”
“I don’t know. It just always puts a smile on my face. Calms me.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Well, scent is the most powerful memory trigger. Smells have a direct line to where our emotions and memories live in the brain, so they supposedly trigger more vivid, emotional memories than any other senses.”
“That’s…very cool. It makes sense to me.” I pause, deep in thought. “When I was younger, we lived in Virginia for a bit. I guess I do have fond memories of the fall there. Jumping in raked piles of leaves in the yard. And it was a time when our family was intact, and things were…good.”
“Maybe that’s why you love it so much. It’s comforting.”
“Maybe,” I say thoughtfully. “But I also just genuinely think it smells so good.” I laugh.
We fall into step again, and I try not to dwell on the past. My present is way too good.
“Too cold?” Jameson asks as he strolls beside me, noticing my shiver.
I shake my head. “I don’t mind the cold.” It’s true, the air is becoming very crispy and chilly, but to me, it makes the fall magic more special.
“I guess you live in the right place, then.”
“I do.” I nod. “I don’t really care for hot summer weather. I much prefer the cold and wearing cute, comfy sweaters and scarves to sweating in the sweltering summer sun.”
He gives me a quick glance up and down while Jess isn’t looking. “They do suit you,” he says quietly, leaning closer.
I flash him a smile and look away.
“Anyway.” I sigh. “What about you? You’re used to that Southern California weather…still think you’ll survive here?”
“We’ll see,” he says. “Maybe I can find someone with a fluffy scarf and sweater to help keep me warm.”
I laugh. “You’d look cute in your own.”
“So,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and raising his voice again. “Jess, what are you dressing up as this year? Or…” he looks at me with a question in his eyes. “Are you too old for that?”
“Too old,” she replies in a sing-song voice, then skips ahead to check out a gazebo. “Mom, this is such a cool reading spot. Can I sit and check out just the first few pages, pleeease?”
“Sure,” I laugh. “I don’t know how she’s my child,” I say more quietly to Jameson.
“She’s awesome,” he replies, and I glance over at him as he watches her with something like respect mixed with amusement.
“Yeah.” I pause and smile. “I think so.”
I take a few steps back and sit on the very edge of a stone wall, extending my legs in front of me.
“So,” I say casually as he takes the spot next to me, “why didn’t you go back to Ireland? You have family there, and it seemed like you had a good time visiting your sister and her family.”
“Um…” He rubs at his jaw and looks out ahead, brows furrowed.
“That’s a great question. I definitely thought about it.
But truthfully, I can’t quite say why, exactly.
It just didn’t feel…right.” He takes a deep breath in and I watch his chest rise.
There’s a lot going on behind his eyes. “And honestly, I know it might sound strange, but it reminds me too much of my parents. And that makes me…sad in a way. I know it should be the opposite. I should want to be there because it brings back fond memories of them, but it doesn’t quite feel that way.
I left when I was so young, I don’t really have any of my own memories of growing up there.
It was always Ma and Dad’s place in my head. Not mine.”
I nod. “Makes perfect sense to me. But you still like to go for short visits? You just don’t want to live there?”
“Yeah.”
I release an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve always wanted to visit there.”
He gently takes my hand and smiles. “I’ll take you one day.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
We smile at each other for a moment, and then he breaks the silence. “It’s a shame, you know,” he says, taking in our surroundings again. “To have such a tragedy in such a beautiful, peaceful place.”
“Tragedies happen everywhere.”
“Well, you would know,” he teases.
“You might be surprised to know that there are some creepy stories around here.”
“Like what?”
“Tahoe Tessie.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You cannot say creepy and then follow it with Tahoe Tessie. What is that? Who is that?”
“It’s kind of like our version of the Loch Ness Monster.”
Jess chimes in, startling me as she approaches us. We both look her way, laughing.
“You have a Loch Ness Monster?” Jameson laughs again. “Okay, what else?”
“There’s the men in suits,” I say absently, recalling all the creepy lake legends.
“The men in suits?” His face lights up with amusement. He doesn’t buy into this sort of thing, I can tell.
“Yeah. People claim to have seen men in suits walking in and out of the water, untouched, dry.”
“That’s…interesting. Okay, what else?”
“The Donner party ghost stories….the preserved, frozen bodies at the bottom of the lake because it’s so deep and frigid that people who drown are, well…preserved. Allegedly. Plus, all the old haunted hotels.”
Jess nods beside me. She’s grown up around here, she knows all about these tales. Jameson’s mouth hangs slightly open. He doesn’t look amused anymore.
“That’s…”
“Still want to live here?” Jess asks with glee. She thinks it’s hilarious.
“You know what, Jess? Ireland isn’t looking so bad.” The sound of all three of us laughing together fills me with such happiness, my smile stretches to its limits. “I’m kidding. I’m not afraid of a few old ghost stories. If anything, it just gives the place more character.”
We head back inside, searching for the hallway we were told might hold answers.
It doesn’t take long to find it, and once we do, we begin reading the different articles on the walls and studying the pictures.
“This is kind of nice,” I remark as Jameson turns his attention to me. “We’ve been here so many times for skiing, but it’s rare we stop in and really soak up the history.”
His eyes soften with understanding. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do more of. Take in the little things. Stop going a hundred miles per hour and missing everything along the way.”
“I could do more of that myself,” I admit, glancing at another frame. “Sometimes I’m so busy with work and projects and her school and activities that I don’t stop to enjoy any of it.”
“Well,” he says, hesitantly taking my hand. His eyes flick to mine, then Jess, asking if it’s okay in front of her. I nod. “We can try to do better together?”
“Yeah.” I nod again, weakly. Because that’s what he makes me when he says the things that he does. Weak.
“Mom, look,” Jess calls excitedly from a few feet away. “Sonny!”
We both whip our heads toward her and hurry over.
I take in the faded photo. It looks to be from the sixties. Two guys in their early twenties stand side by side with their arms around each other, smiling.
“Sonny Millz and Leo Sanchez, Employees of the Month, March 1966,” The caption reads.
“Well, he doesn’t look like a killer,” Jameson notes.
“That’s what they always say, don’t they? ‘He seemed so nice. So charming.’”
He raises his eyebrows and nods in agreement. Then he pulls out his phone, snaps a picture, and sends a message. Probably to the guy he’s had looking into it.
“Well, let’s keep looking. Maybe there’s more.”
“Great eye, Jess. Maybe you should be a detective when you’re older.” Jameson reaches out to give her a high-five.
“Maybe,” she says thoughtfully, looking thrilled by the compliment as she smacks his palm.
We don’t find anything more, but he still holds my hand throughout, and somehow, that feels more intimate than anything else we’ve done.