The Will

Summons II

DALLY POV - Summons II

The roses looked best at sunset. My mother used to say that was because flowers were like people.

"The prettiest things will only show when they're about to disappear, mijo."

I never understood what the hell that meant. Still didn't. But every evening I found myself standing in Los Jardines de Rosas anyway.

The Garden of Roses.

Keenan could have hired landscapers from Boston or New York. People with degrees and fancy titles.

Instead he got my mother. An immigrant who made her way all the way up from Mexico with a two year old son. A woman who spoke to flowers in Spanish and treated every hedge and flower like it deserved all the love in the world.

I crouched beside a climbing rose and clipped away a dead bloom. The air smelled like soil and summer. For a few minutes, it was peaceful.

Then a shadow fell across the path.

I looked up.

A man stood at the entrance to the garden.

Suit. Tie. Polished shoes.

Wrong place entirely.

Nobody dressed like that around here unless they were selling something or taking something.

I stood slowly.

"You're lost."

The man didn't answer.

That immediately pissed me off. I hated people who acted like silence made them important.

The stranger walked forward, careful not to step off the stone path.

Good.

Mamí would've haunted his ass if he trampled her roses.

When he reached me, he held out an envelope. Cream-colored. Heavy paper. Red wax seal.

I recognized the crest instantly. Everybody on the estate did. Hell, everybody in New England probably did.

Ashwood.

I stared at it. Then at the mysterious figure.

"What is this?"

No reply. Not a word. The man simply held the envelope out. Waiting. Like he already knew I'd take it.

Against my better judgment, I did.

The paper felt expensive. Of course it did. Everything associated with Keenan Ashwood was expensive.

I broke the seal. Opened the letter. Read the first line. My jaw tightened.

Mister Dallas Sandoval,

You are hereby summoned to Ashwood Estate.

I laughed. Actually laughed. A short, ugly sound.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The man remained expressionless.

I kept reading.

Date.

Time.

Instructions to tell no one.

Formal language that sounded like it had been written by a lawyer with a stick up his ass.

By the end, my hands were clenched around the paper. As if I wasn't already standing on Ashwood Estate. As if I'd spent the last twenty-five years anywhere else.

A breeze moved through the garden. The roses swayed gently around us. I looked toward the hill where the mansion sat.

Huge, yet lonely. Ivory in a way that used to be white generations ago.

My mother spent half her life working for that place.

Then she died.

And somehow the mansion was still standing. Still beautiful. Still untouched. Like it hadn't taken anything from her at all.

I folded the letter. Carefully. Too carefully.

"What does he want?"

The question came out rough.

The man offered no answer.

I knew he wouldn’t.

Nobody ever had answers when it came to Keenan Ashwood.

Only orders. Only secrets. Only silence.

The stranger gave a small nod, as if his job was finished. Then he turned and walked away.

I watched him leave the garden. I watched him disappear down the path toward a black SUV waiting near the service road.

A few seconds later, the vehicle drove off.

Just like that.

I stood alone among the roses. The letter rested in my hand. The sky was turning orange behind the mansion.

For a long moment, I considered throwing the damn thing into the dirt. Instead, I slipped it into my back pocket.

My mother would've wanted me to know what was inside.

The problem? So did I.