“Just to make sure I’m clear on your plan then. You’re going to pretend to be somebody important with Mr. Crawley?” Silas asked, already stressed at the implication.
“Yeah.”
“This is such a bad idea.”
“Well, I’m not going to lie and say I’m a princess or something. Google can debunk that easily. But some half-truths shouldn’t damn my soul.”
Silas dropped his face into his hands.
“Relax, we’re not pulling off a heist,” she said as she turned around a bend before hitting a graveled driveway that delivered them to the Crawley’s lakefront log mansion.
“Holy shit,” Raven said, leaning forward to get a better view of the home.
“They used to tell us horror stories about this house as kids—how people had gone missing or how bones had been found on the property—so we wouldn’t be tempted to trespass.”
“Yeah, I can understand children being curious about the castle made out of logs,” she said, still gaping at the structure.
At the front entrance, as they waited for the door to be answered, Silas watched Raven rub the small pendant on her necklace. “Is that something special to you? The necklace,” he asked.
He’d noticed over the weeks how she’d touch it sometimes mindlessly and at other times like she was talking to it.
“It’s a citrine crystal,” she said, showing him the amber stone more clearly. “It’s for good luck, abundance, joy.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, leaving his skepticism unsaid. He’d gathered by the way Raven occasionally talked that she held some unconventional beliefs. And hey, they were walking into an unusual situation, so perhaps they needed all the mystical support they could get.
A butler soon welcomed them inside, escorting them quickly through a number of brightly lit hallways with framed art that Silas assumed cost a fortune. They were left in an office with an impressive library and garish furniture, waiting for the boss.
“My friend, Gwen, would love this room,” Raven said, studying the ceiling-high bookshelves before quickly pulling out her phone to take pictures.
Meanwhile, Silas was contemplating the kind of gift basket he’d send the Crawleys after the meeting to smooth things over.
When the door to the study opened and Mr. Crawley entered, both he and Raven stood up. As a child, Silas could’ve sworn the man was at least one hundred years old, but in reality, Mr. Crawley was currently around seventy.
The old man settled in his chair behind the large desk and, perhaps expecting different people, blinked at them before his assistant appeared and whispered something in his ear.
“Oh, yes, Mountaintop Adventures. Great establishment,” Mr. Crawley said. “I’m sorry to hear about Charles.”
They were empty words. The man didn’t care, but Silas graciously nodded.
“You heading it now?” Mr. Crawley asked him.
“No, she is,” Silas said easily, gesturing to Raven.
“Hi, I’m Raven.”
Her voice had taken up an airier quality than her natural one, and Silas assumed it was a part of the character she was playing.
“I love your house, by the way,” she said. “It’s really cute.”
The way she said the word “cute” made it seem like the mansion was a quaint little cabin in the woods and not a behemoth of a home with a rumored four-million-dollar price tag. Was this her plan? Give backhanded compliments to persuade the old man to pay his debts?
If Mr. Crawley picked up on the condescension, Silas couldn’t tell.
“What can I do for you today, Ms. Raven?”
“I’m obviously new at Mountaintop and Cedar Lake, so I’ve been going through the books, getting myself familiar with the system and our clients,” Raven said. “And I realized we messed up and forgot to charge you for some of the classes and tours you’ve taken with us in the past.”
“Oh?” Mr. Crawley said as his eyes drifted over to Silas, and they seemed to say, “You didn’t tell her how things work around here, huh?”
