Chapter 2 Odin
The Redwood Hills sign is a blurry green smudge against the windshield as I take the exit, a familiar ache settling behind my ribs.
Home. It has been too long. Years spent chasing the roar of the crowd and the fleeting high of sold-out stadiums have led to.
.. nothing. Just the echoing silence after the crash, a silence that still threatens to swallow me whole some days.
Property development is my escape route, my way to build something tangible out of the ashes. And it has worked better than anyone—least of all me—could have predicted. Billionaire. The word still feels foreign, like someone else's skin I am wearing. But the numbers don't lie.
My gut instincts, honed from years of navigating the shark-infested waters of the music industry, have translated surprisingly well into real estate. I know a good investment when I see it, know how to leverage and build, how to make something from nothing.
Just like I did with my music, back when I was Odin Baxter, rock god. Now, I am just Odin Baxter, single dad, property developer, and apparently, the neighborhood villain.
Pulling up to the old Victorian I've bought, I realize the 'before' pictures I've studied don't do it justice. Dilapidated, sure, but with a bones-deep charm that even neglect can't completely erase. This place, and the vacant lot next door, is perfect for my vision.
A boutique hotel and spa—Redwood Hills needs it, deserves it. Something to draw in tourists, boost the local economy beyond apple picking and Christmas tree farms.
Not everyone sees it that way, apparently. Especially not one Nicola Williams, school teacher extraordinaire and my little sister's best friend. Riley hasn't breathed a word that she lives practically next door. Typical Riley, always about the drama .
I park the SUV; Stevie is practically vibrating with excitement.
"We're here! We're here!" she chants, her blonde pigtails bouncing as she jumps up and down.
Alice is thrilled I'm back and thrilled to have Stevie closer. Mom deserves to enjoy her retirement, and Redwood Hills is where she's happiest. Selfishly, I need this too. A reset. Less concrete and steel, more green and... normal. Or as normal as life can be for a guy like me.
Stevie launches herself out of the car the moment I open her door, little sneakers slapping against the gravel driveway as she races to check out the overgrown fountain, the cherubs at its base playing in weeds instead of water.
I watch her—a small, bright spark in my otherwise grey world. She's the reason I get out of bed in the morning, the reason I keep pushing forward, even when the memories threaten to drag me back under.
"Slow down, peanut," I call after her, a ghost of a smile tugging at my lips.
Peanut. Sarah called her that when she was a baby.
The memories are always lurking just beneath the surface.
I push them down and clamp a lid on the grief and the guilt.
There is no time for that right now. Project Redwood Hills is starting.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Riley. Predictable.
"Hey," I answer, already bracing myself.
"Good morning big brother. So how are you liking being back in Redwood Hills, a.k.a. Ground Zero for the Baxter family takeover?" Her voice is light, teasing, but I can hear the undercurrent of something else. Worry? Excitement? Riley always has a million things going on behind those bright eyes.
"This town is perfect. I feel like I can breathe without all of the traffic.
I put my hand over my earbud to shield it from the wind.
No traffic noise to screen this morning.
We just got back over to the new place. Stevie's already exploring," I say, keeping it brief.
No need to get into the emotional baggage with Riley. She knows enough already .
"And have you met Nicola? Brunette, sunshine personality, vehemently opposed to your entire existence, my bestie since high school?" Riley's tone is definitely amused now.
"Nicola Williams," I repeat, “Yes, we’ve met. School teacher. Victorian house across the street. Asking for information on the project.”
"She's... passionate," Riley continues, a laugh bubbling up. "Let's just say she's not exactly thrilled about having a billionaire developer moving into the neighborhood. Especially one who's planning on building a... 'gaudy, soulless spa,' according to her."
"Gaudy and soulless?" I raise an eyebrow, even though Riley can't see me.
My designs are anything but. Luxury, yes.
High-end, absolutely. But soulless? I pour my focus, my energy, my vision into these projects.
They aren't just buildings; they're experiences.
But try explaining that to someone who's already convinced you're the enemy.
"Something like that. Anyway, she's... Nicola. Prepare for outrage and lots of questions."
I run a hand through my hair. Just what I need.
A local hero to add to the already complicated mix.
Between Greg Hoyston sniffing around, trying to weasel his way into my project, and now a feisty school teacher ready to go to war over zoning ordinances, Redwood Hills is shaping up to be. .. interesting.
“Look, Stevie and I are heading to Mom’s for dinner. Want to join us?” I say, cutting the call. I need Alice, the old house, something familiar, before tackling the Nicola Williams situation. And Greg Hoyston. And the whole damn town.
I watch as Stevie races back to me, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Daddy, can we go see Grandma now?"
"Yeah, peanut. We'll go see Grandma."
She slips her small hand into mine, tugging me toward the car with surprising strength for someone so small. This, this is what matters. Protecting her, giving her a life, a home, a future. Everything else is just noise .
But Nicola Williams, with her ‘righteous indignation,’ is going to be more than noise.
She’s going to be a problem. And I’m not used to problems I can’t bulldoze.
I get what I want. Always. And I want this project.
For Redwood Hills, for Stevie, for myself.
Even if it means going toe-to-toe with a school teacher who thinks I’m the devil.
Bring it on, Nicola. Let’s see just how bright your sunshine really is.