Three weeks had passed, three weeks in which Hunter had no problems sleeping, no difficulties avoiding the truth about his parents’ unfortunate demise and its locale, in short, no spare time for pondering. Ian had not called again, and this morning, as Hunter got up and slipped into his robe, his head felt clear. He felt energized and ready to face the day. The prospect of getting ready for the move to Beaumont House—and even better, his new life with Jay—was before him.
There were a million things to do: landscapers and movers to hire, packing, getting the Evanston house ready to be put on the market. Hunter’s days lately were crammed with details, which kept his mind off any misgivings about Beaumont House and what part it had played in his personal history.
Just as he was about to get
