KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (41 page)

NORA—Thursday, November 27, 2008

T
he flight was long, and thoughts of Reagan kept my mind busy. I remembered every perfect detail of him as I flew across the ocean. They kept me going, but I fought the urge to go back even before the wheels touched down.

I was received with little fanfare at my father’s—or rather my estate. My brothers cut most of the staff, something I hadn’t been aware of, and no less right around the holidays.

Although the Swiss don’t care about pilgrims and Native American’s, they do take their turkey roasting seriously—at least Laura, our house chef did.

Maybe it was jetlag. Maybe it was because it was a holiday, not that I hadn’t spent many alone before, but I was homesick.

It was only a Thursday for Laura, so when I invited her to stay and eat with me, she didn’t find much objection. Besides, I wanted to know what had happened in my absence.

“They cut many jobs, Ms. Koehl,” she admitted. When I’d been there in the spring, the house was still operating with upwards of twenty full-time staff. They were down to five. “They said it was because there was never anyone here, but this place is huge. It will fall to pieces without staff.”

She didn’t have to explain it to me. I could already see a huge different from then to when I’d arrived back. The place had never had a speck of dust—no matter how large it was. I’d never seen the snow, light as it was, so haphazard around the walks and paths.

The mansion was massive, three stories with outside decks wrapping side to side along the back of each where it hosted breathtaking views of the mountains. Instead of them being completely cleared, there were only paths. Same with the front steps.

It was in disarray.

“I’ll be calling the staff back tomorrow. Do you think they’ll come?” I didn’t know what my brothers had done to them. I didn’t know if they’d be angry or disgruntled. All I knew was I had some work cut out for me. If I wanted to keep my father’s estate alive, I couldn’t neglect it. And I couldn’t let anyone else neglect it either.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
Happy Thanksgiving

Date:
November 27, 2008 23:45 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Hello from Switzerland.
Guetä Tag.

I know you’re with your family for the holiday, so I didn’t want to interrupt. I hope you got your fill of turkey and all of the trimmings.

The property wasn’t in the best shape when I arrived. I guess it’s time to roll up my sleeves and manage it like I should.

Anyway, I thought this would be easier than text because of the time difference.

Nora

PS: My toe hurts. ;)

From:
Reagan Warren

Subject:
re: Happy Thanksgiving

Date:
November 28, 2008 04:12 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Hello from Seattle,

I wish you would have come here first. The red wine doesn’t taste as good as when you’re sharing it with me.

My mother cooked too much, and my brother and sister are behaving oddly, but I’m not sure that’s anything new. At least my dad has one normal child. <- That was a joke. And for your information, my mom laughed her ass off.

Make sure to wear your coat, a scarf, and gloves when you go outside. The temperature is supposed to be frigid there. I hate the internet.

Reggie

PS: Should I ship your ice packs?

My ice packs.

Of the few personal items I’d brought with me, those had made the cut.

I smiled reading his email and felt a little better.

Maybe his mom was bias like me, but I think we were right. He was a little funny. Not a lot, but just the right amount.

He’d signed the email Reggie, which I thought was odd. His family called him that so maybe that was the reason. I thought back to the last person I’d heard use that name with him, and my stomach soured.

Simone
.

It wasn’t her fault, and I had yet to deal with my feelings regarding my reactions to that night. Reagan and I never spoke about why she left. In fact, we didn’t mention anything about that night at all.

None of it.

Which might have been necessary because, like I was becoming accustomed, I didn’t know what to think.

Regardless, it would all have to wait. I was in work mode.

Call previous employees.

Leave messages. Not many answered.

Help Loris shovel.

My toe literally hurt.

Miss his scent.

Sleep in the chair.

“Yes, I understand what you mean. I’m sorry, but we’d love for you to come back.”

Only seven of them did.

Put ads out in the newspapers.

Dinner with Janel and Ives.

“I’m meeting with your brothers tomorrow, do you want to come, or should I be your proxy?”

Ives could handle it.

Return a phone call from a board member my dad did business with.

Book the property for an impromptu Christmas party.

Make a list.

Toss and turn in a chair.

Think about sleeping in his arms.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
re:re:re Is your phone charged?

Date:
December 19, 2008 22:06 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Reagan,

Sorry I missed your call earlier, I’m sure you’re asleep now. I’m having trouble keeping track of time here.

I’m interviewing people for some positions and will be pretty busy over the weekend.

I hope all is well. I’ll try to call you again soon.

Nora

“They don’t want to keep the property if no one is here to run it. They’re fine with selling the properties and shares you listed. They don’t want the hassle,” Ives said over the phone.

I didn’t have much of a family life, but being here over the past few weeks, I now felt more protective of the house. In fact, there was so much potential for it. Our father had loved this place. It was where he’d said he was happiest.

I wasn’t sentimental, but something felt terribly wrong about letting it go. It should remain in our family. If my brothers didn’t care, maybe their children eventually would.

“No, I don’t want to sell it. Get the paperwork sorted for everything else, but this. This stays.”

“Nora, love,” he said sympathetically. He’d called me that many times before, back when things were different, and I’d liked it then. It didn’t feel that way anymore. Now it felt patronizing.

“Ives, excuse me, if you don’t want to proceed the way I want, I can hire someone else. Someone who isn’t this close to the family. Someone impartial.” Someone like Reagan, who wouldn’t make me feel like a child. And if Reagan didn’t want to, I’m sure he would recommend someone who would.

“I’m sorry. I’ll start working on the liquidation of his shares to move some of the sales along. You think about this.”

I said goodbye and hung up. I knew he meant well, but I didn’t pay him for that.

Call the library. Arrange the librarian to come look through our stacks.

“Ms. Koehl, if we updated your lift, and had them certified, we could host skiers.”

Spend a full day online ordering new bedding for the suits.

Taylor each one to the new motifs.

Confirm the menu for the Christmas party.

Call a professional to clean and re-lamp the chandeliers.

Soak in the hot tub and dream of Reagan’s mouth on me.

Check my email.

From:
Reagan Warren

Subject:
Deliveries

Date:
December 21, 2008 00:50 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Nora,

We didn’t discuss exchanging gifts, but I wanted you to know that tracking indicates you’ll have a package tomorrow. Or today. Depending on when you read this.

In your last email you sounded tired. I hope you’re getting enough rest. Please, for Christ’s sake, let me know if I can help. It’s making me crazy. Anything to get you back sooner.

Reagan

PS The lady at the Greek place is sick of me but says to tell you hi.

I felt giddy knowing that I’d be getting a present.

My mother called when she received her packages, and she’d told me I’d have to visit to receive her gifts. She was most likely lying and hadn’t bought me anything.

That didn’t bother me too much.

Reagan had thought of me.

From:
Nora V. Koehl

Subject:
re: Deliveries

Date:
December 22, 2008 01:15 CET

To:
Reagan Warren

Reagan,

Merry
almost
Christmas, I see Chicago is getting a lot of snow. I’m sure it’s beautiful.

I’m sorry to make you worry, but everything is fine. When I’m not running in twelve different directions, I’m enjoying the work. So, hush.

I’m not sure what your plans are for the holidays, but I hope you spend it with someone. Maybe your family is visiting? That would be fun.

I hate that the time isn’t lining up to talk on the phone as much as I’d like.

I’ll try to call on Christmas. You didn’t have to send me anything, but hearing your voice would be so nice.

Nora

I missed him.

We hadn’t taken many pictures, really none at all that I could find on my phone of us together. So I didn’t have anything to look at except a barely used social media account.

Still, when my mind would calm at night, and I was sitting in the tub, I’d prop my phone up with one of the few pictures he had online and fail at making myself feel as good as he masterfully did.

But that was all I had.

Just as his email said, the boxes came the next day. It didn’t feel right opening them, so I decided I was going to go shopping.
For him.

Even if he didn’t know and wouldn’t get my gifts until later, I would know I had bought them before I opened his. Buying him things and devoting time to what he’d like made me happier than I’d been since I left.

There was one thing I knew he’d especially love, and I drove there first. Careful to watch the road with the fresh snow.

REGGIE—Tuesday, December 23, 2008

T
he snow crunched underfoot, and I trudged around to the back of the SUV.

My suitcase was heavy with all of my winter gear, and I was glad I’d shipped my gifts ahead of time.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I hoped she would be happy to see me. I hadn’t been that excited for Christmas since I was a child. She was the gift I was giving myself.

I’d followed another vehicle in through the gate, and they were piling out and pulling large flower arrangements from their van.

The house was magnificent. Colossal. Photos online hadn’t done it justice.

I had a little over a week to spend with her, through Christmas and the New Year, if she didn’t freak out and send me away.

God, please let her be happy to see me.