The ones closest to the bottom of the hill are almost human-size, but as I walk up and up, they only get more grandiose.

The house I’m heading to is gated and guarded. I buzz in, feeling about the size of an ant as I say, “Claire Fairmont to see Lisa?”

The pedestrian door unlocks.

It’s another fifteen minutes’ walk to the front door.

“Claire!” a beaming Octavia greets me, standing before her mother. “Didn’t I tell you she was as pretty as a princess, Mama! Look!”

Lisa’s a beautiful twenty-something in a suit and a severe bun. She grins. “That she is. Lovely meeting you, Claire.” She glances over my shoulder. “Don’t tell me you walked here?”

I blush. “Oh, no, I took the bus. I don’t have a car.”

Lisa grimaces, and my heart sink. Is she going to say I can’t have the job because I don’t have a vehicle? I didn’t even think of that. Would she require me to pick up Octavia?

“Don’t tell Keller I made you walk up the hill, he’ll kill me. Come in, love. You must need a nice, refreshing drink after that trek.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I say.

I was too lost in my mind to think about the walk uphill, focusing on this potential job, and the possibility of career paths I didn’t consider.

Accounting made sense. I discussed it at the end of school with my grandmother, and she gave me all the reasons why it was a sound choice. A secure career, useful, and if Noah started in the construction business, I’d have a guaranteed income, too…

Today, those arguments feel lacking. I like to draw. I’m not awful at it. There are career paths that allow a degree of creativity while still being fairly certain, like marketing.

I walk into a sunny, warm entryway that illustrates why they think that the Vesper House is appropriate for college students. Simply put, this is a manor, not a house. There’s a curving grand staircase for Christ’s sake.

We make our way to the kitchen, and my eyes bulge in my face.

“Dada!” Octavia calls, at the life-size supermodel I’ve only ever seen in pictures before.

So this is Arlo, Keller’s dad. Of course he is. He basically looks like a clone of Keller, only age has made him somehow more relaxed, refined. Or maybe it’s because his eyes aren’t quite as calculating as his son’s, when he bends to pick up the kid.

I have to think about the family dynamic for a while. So, Octavia calls Arlo Dada, but she’s Lisa’s daughter—Keller’s half-sister. Are Arlo and Lisa together? Their interaction give me no indication.

“I’m about to give this poor girl a drink. She walked uphill. Want some iced tea?”