She stood and stared at the closed dorm room door. “I hate you, Jack,” she said as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I hate you and I’ll make you suffer. I’m going to grow up and be so beautiful you have to sleep with me. Then I’m going to walk away and break your heart. Just watch me.”

Present day

Jack Howington III had driven two days straight to get to Lake Tahoe. He could have flown his jet, then picked up a rental car for the month he was going to be forced to stay at Hunter’s house, but he’d needed the downtime to clear his head.

His assistant had been frantic, unable to reach him in the more rural parts of the country, but he’d enjoyed the silence. There hadn’t been enough silence in his life for a long, long time. Even when he was alone, there were still the damn ghosts to contend with.

He drove down a long driveway toward a barely visible log house. The place stood surrounded by trees with a view of the lake behind. There were windows and stone steps, along with a heavy double wood door.

Jack parked, then climbed out of his Mercedes. Hunter’s house had been built just recently, nearly ten years after the death of his friend, but Jack had a feeling that Hunter had left detailed instructions on what it should look like. The place reminded him of Hunter, which was both good and bad.

It was just a month, he told himself as he walked around to the trunk and grabbed his suitcase and computer bag. If he stayed in here for a month, per the terms of Hunter’s will, the house would be converted to a place for cancer patients and survivors to come for free. Twenty million would be given to the town or charity or something like that. Jack hadn’t paid attention to the details. All he knew was that Hunter had asked him for one last favor. Jack had failed his friend enough times to know that this time he had to follow through.