But nothing I said or did seemed to affect Lily at all, so I ended up driving through the gates of Rustic Mesa by myself, two hours before the social event of the lake season was set to begin. The fact that Victoria’s family didn’t just have a lake house, but an estate—and the fact that the estate had a name—should have merited some sarcastic mental commentary on my part, but all I could think as I approached the main house was that this night had the potential to go badly on so many levels.

Ana could show up. She could not show up. The White Gloves could cut Lily. She could—

Someone answered the front door before I could finish that thought. I’d been expecting Victoria, or possibly a housekeeper.

I hadn’t expected her father.

“A young lady such as yourself should never be made to wait.” Victor Gutierrez had salt-and-pepper hair, features that had aged well, and the type of charisma that didn’t age at all. “Especially in this heat,” he continued. “My apologies. Please, come in.”

I stepped over the threshold into a foyer with soaring ceilings. “Is Victoria . . .”

“My daughter will be down shortly.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was being escorted to what Lillian would have referred to as a Baptist bar—one that normally hid behind pocket doors. Today, in preparation for the party, they were open.

“Could I get you something cool to drink?” Victor Gutierrez made a study of my expression. “No? Ah, well. You won’t mind if I have a little something myself.”

He let go of my arm to walk back around the bar.

“I can wait in the foyer for Victoria,” I said.

“Keep an old man company,” he told me, filling a glass with ice. “Perhaps I might convince you to reconsider some of the ideas you have been putting in my daughter’s head.”

He was still smiling, so it took me a second to process what he’d just said. “Excuse me?”

He took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes. “I am well aware of why this party is happening and who you are hoping will be in attendance. I suspect the Ames girl has something to do with it, but she is not here, and you are. You will forgive me for asking you to pass the message along.”

What message? I thought.

“You may pass it along to the Ames boy as well.” Mr. Gutierrez made that sound like an act of generosity on his part. “I know that he and my daughter have been spending time together.”

He hadn’t referred to Victoria by her name once. She was always my daughter.

“If you’re concerned about the amount of time Victoria and Walker are spending together—or the ideas in her head—maybe you should discuss it with her,” I suggested.