CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT #2
Madison is already exploring her connecting room, exclaiming over the heated bathroom floors and rainforest shower. “This is amazing! Can I FaceTime Chloe and show her?”
“After we get settled,” Sophia calls back. “Let’s figure out what we’re doing today first.”
I move to the windows, gesturing for Sophia to join me. “That’s Cecil Peak,” I say, pointing to the mountain dominating the view. “And down there is Queenstown Gardens. We can walk through there to get to town.”
She leans against me, warm and solid. “It’s beautiful, Jack. Thank you for bringing us here.”
The sincerity in her voice twists like a knife. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Thank you for coming.”
◆◆◆
The afternoon unfolds in a blur of perfect moments.
Sophia and Madison gasp in unison as our jet boat executes a 360-degree spin on Lake Wakatipu, sending up a spray of crystal-clear water that momentarily obscures the mountains.
Madison’s laughter is infectious, her hair whipping in the wind as we zoom across the lake’s surface.
Sophia, initially tense, gradually relaxes into the experience, her face alight with the simple joy of speed and spectacular scenery.
“That was AWESOME!” Madison declares as we disembark, her face flushed with excitement. “Mom, admit it, you loved it too!”
“It was…exhilarating,” Sophia concedes, smoothing her windblown hair. “Though I think my stomach is still halfway across the lake.”
I guide them through Queenstown Gardens next, taking the scenic route toward the town center. The autumn colors are in full display, crisp golden leaves crunching underfoot as we stroll beneath towering trees.
“It’s so strange to think it’s fall here when it’s spring back home,” Sophia remarks, her hand warm in mine.
“Southern Hemisphere,” I shrug. “Everything’s upside down. Wait till you experience Christmas in summer.”
She looks at me sharply, and I realize my slip—implying future holidays together, something we haven’t discussed. But her expression softens, a small smile playing at her lips. “That would be…interesting.”
The Skyline Gondola carries us up Bob’s Peak after lunch, offering panoramic views that make even Madison briefly forget her phone.
I point out landmarks as the cable car climbs steadily upward—the historic steamship TSS Earnslaw plies the lake’s waters, the distant Richardson Mountains, the small neighborhoods nestled along the shore.
“It’s like a postcard,” Sophia murmurs, pressed against the glass. “I can’t believe people actually live with this view every day.”
“Some lucky bastards,” I agree, thinking of the estate we will visit tomorrow, with its sweeping views of Lake Dunstan and the Central Otago mountains.
At the summit, we take obligatory photos with the spectacular backdrop, Madison insisting on several “family shots” that have Sophia and me exchanging surprised glances over her head.
I play tour guide, sharing stories about the region but carefully sanitizing any that might hint at my family’s prominence.
When Madison spots the luge track and begs to try it, I gladly purchase tickets, watching as she and Sophia race down the mountain on wheeled carts, their laughter echoing back up the hillside. For those few hours, I almost forget what is coming.
Almost.
By early afternoon, hunger drives us to Fergburger, Queenstown’s famous burger joint where the line typically stretches down the block.
“Seriously? We’re waiting in this?” Sophia asks skeptically, eyeing the queue.
“Trust me,” I assure them. “This burger will change your lives.”
Forty minutes later, seated at a small table with massive, sauce-dripping burgers in front of us, Madison takes her first bite and her eyes widen comically.
“Oh my God ,” she moans around a mouthful. “This is…this is…”
“Told you,” I grin, watching as Sophia closes her eyes in appreciation after her own first bite.
“Okay, you win,” she admits. “Worth the wait.”
As they finish their meals, I find myself cataloging these moments, storing them away: Madison’s face smeared with aioli, Sophia’s laughter as she tries to manage her unwieldy burger, the way the sunlight catches in both their dark hair. I am building a treasure trove of memories, just in case.
Throughout the day, I’d navigated us carefully through Queenstown, avoiding certain shops owned by family friends and restaurants where I might be recognized.
When Sophia had suggested a particular winery for late lunch, I’d redirected to a craft brewery instead, mentioning the better views.
When Madison had wanted to browse a specific boutique, I’d suggested a different one nearby first, saying we could check out both if we had time.
It wasn’t a lie exactly, but I steer us so thoroughly through the second shop that we “ran out of time” for the first—which happened to be owned by my father’s oldest friend.
It is exhausting, this constant vigilance. The half-truths. The omissions.
And yet, seeing Sophia’s face as she gazes out over the lake, stress melting from her shoulders with each passing hour; watching Madison embrace each new experience with unbridled enthusiasm—it only confirms what I already know.
I would do anything to keep them in my life, even if it meant facing the music tomorrow.
◆◆◆
“I’m exhausted,” Madison announces dramatically. “I think the jet lag is still catching up with me.”
“We’ve had a pretty full day,” Sophia agrees, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
“Why don’t you head back to the hotel?” I suggest to Madison. “Order room service, watch a movie. Your mom and I could have a quick drink somewhere nearby, then join you.”
Madison’s eyebrows rise suggestively. “Oh, I see. You two want alone time .”
“Madison Grace !” Sophia’s cheeks flush.
“Whatever,” Madison shrugs, grinning. “I’m cool with it. I wanted to FaceTime Chloe anyway, show her all my photos from today. Plus I’m literally about to pass out.”
Twenty minutes later, we’ve walked Madison back to the hotel, making sure she is settled with access to room service and promises to text if she needed anything.
“Just us, then,” Sophia says as her daughter’s—her daughter’s, I mentally correct—door closes.
“I was thinking,” I say, taking her hand. “There’s this place by the lake, Little Blackwood? Nice cocktails, great view. Would you…would you like to dress up a bit? Have a proper date night?”
Her eyes light up. “Really? That sounds lovely.”
“I’ll give you some time to get ready?” I offer. “I can go check on a few things, be back in thirty minutes?”
“Perfect,” she agrees with a smile.
I use the time to make a quick reservation, ensuring we’ll get that perfect corner table overlooking the lake, then return to find the bedroom door still closed.
I change quickly into dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt that Emma always says matches my eyes, adding a sports coat I had packed specifically for tonight.
When Sophia emerges from the bedroom, I actually forget to breathe for a moment.
She wears a deep burgundy dress that hugs her curves before flowing gently to just below her knees—elegant but comfortable enough for walking.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and she’d added small gold earrings that catch the light when she moves.
The dress is cut to show just enough of her collarbones and shoulders to make my mouth go dry, but it is practical enough that she can walk comfortably in the low heels she’d paired with it.
“You look…” I begin, then falter completely. “You…I…buh-buh—” I stop, swallow hard, and try again. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”
A smile spreads across her face, part amusement, part pleasure at my reaction. “Did I just render Jack McKenzie speechless?”
I nod, still recovering. “First time for everything.”
She crosses to me, straightening my collar with a gentle touch. “You clean up pretty well yourself, McKenzie.”
I catch her hand, press a kiss to her palm. “Shall we? I can call a car if you prefer.”
“It’s a beautiful night,” she says. “Let’s walk. I packed these shoes specifically because they’re comfortable enough for actually moving around.”
I offer her my arm, ridiculously pleased when she takes it. As we make our way through the Queenstown Gardens, the setting sun bathes everything in golden light. Sophia draws admiring glances from passersby, and I can’t help the surge of pride and possessiveness I feel with her on my arm.
“You’re staring,” she notes as we walk along the lake path.
“Can’t help it,” I admit. “You’re stunning.”
She squeezes my arm gently. “Sweet talker.”
Little Blackwood is exactly as I remember—intimate but not pretentious, with a roaring fire and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake.
The ma?tre d’ greets us warmly, guiding us to the corner table I’d reserved, angled perfectly to catch the lights of the TSS Earnslaw as it glides across the water.
“This is beautiful,” Sophia says, settling into her seat. “Perfect way to end the day.”
I order a Gibbston Valley Pinot Noir, carefully avoiding any McKenzie Estate offerings on the wine list. The sommelier raises an eyebrow but makes no comment.
“What a perfect spring night,” Sophia remarks, gazing out at the clear, star-strewn sky above the lake.
“Perfect autumn night, tāku ipo ,” I correct gently. “Remember, we’re upside down here.”
She laughs. “Right. I keep forgetting.” She takes a sip of wine, her expression appreciative. “This is excellent.”
“Central Otago Pinot Noir,” I explain, more comfortable on this topic than most. “The region’s specialty. The combination of hot days, cool nights, and these rocky soils gives it a unique profile. Notes of dark cherry, a bit of spice.”
“Listen to you,” she teases. “Secret wine expert?”
I shrug, aiming for casual. “You pick things up, growing up around here.”
“Tell me more about tomorrow,” she says, leaning forward. “Your family’s place. What should I expect?”