“I see,” I said. “Well, where is he now?”
“He’s being taken care of. Your father was prepared for this kind of event, though of course none of us expected it this soon,” Nolan said. “You need to get here as soon as possible. I’ve sent a plane for you. It should be touching down in Charlottesville within the hour.”
A plane? He sent a plane for me?
“How did you know where I was?” I asked, realizing it was a stupid question.
“Your father has very clear instructions on how something like this is to be handled,” Nolan replied. “Obviously the firm is aware of where the owner’s daughter attends school. Do you need me to send a car for you? To get you to the airport?”
“Yes. I don’t have a car here, it’s at my aunt’s house in Richmond,” I said.
“Very well. I’ll give the driver your number. He’ll text you when he’s there. Pack what you can as quickly as you can. I’d like you in the air as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure you would,” I muttered.
If Nolan noticed my anger, he didn’t let on. Or he just didn’t care.
“See you soon, Camilla.” He hung up.
Camilla? Only my father called me that.
Three
My father had flown me private one time. It had been on my sixteenth birthday.
I hadn’t expected to see him. Once my mother died I’d been shipped off to boarding school in Connecticut. I spent most holidays with Aunt Beth, seeing my father maybe once a year, if that. He emailed me mostly. He seemed to be better with that type of communication. His emails are why I loved him, despite the distance and borderline abandonment.
But for my sixteenth birthday, Richard Hunt really came through. He’d surprised me up at Choate, the school I went to throughout high school. I wasn’t exactly the most popular girl in my class. I was just another girl in a sea of Hollywood kids, politician spawn, and global royalty. I was surrounded by kids with better stories than me, people who shrugged at me being a partial orphan. Their parents were movie stars and Senators. My dad was an attorney and my mother had been a mentally ill shut-in. I couldn’t compete with any of them in almost any sort of way.
The girls in my class all had been taught things I’d somehow missed out on. They had glossy hair that never frizzed, long legs, and a way of making our uniforms look chic and modish; they were walking J. Crew ads, and they intimidated the shit out of me.
I mostly stayed in my room. I concentrated on academics and lost myself in books on the weekends. Tried not to think about my mother too much. The few friends I had were like me; regular kids who would have probably stood out more back in their hometowns, but who were just rich kid nobodies at Choate.
But that all changed when I turned sixteen. Or at least it changed for a day. But sometimes that’s all you need-one great day to make up for the mundane ones.
It was a Friday. School was out, and for whatever reason a lot of kids were staying on campus that particular weekend.
I had been bundled up in a charcoal pea coat and Burberry scarf as I walked across the lawn and back toward my dorm room. The cold snap had started early in New England and I was already dreading the next few months of gray, slush, sleet, and snow. My mind wasn’t even on my birthday so much. I wasn’t one of those girls in the movies who was going to get a brand new car delivered to her with a big red ribbon on it. I didn’t have a boyfriend to kiss me, or take me further, to mark my sweet sixteen. I wanted those things, but that wasn’t my life. I’d made peace with that.
As I got closer to my dorm, I saw him. My father, in a crisp suit, his salt and pepper hair slightly tousled from his nervous habit of running his hands through it. I could see other girls walking by and staring at him. My father was a handsome man, tall and formidable, with a presence that commanded attention and respect. But he was a sweet man, and despite his lack of direct involvement in my life, I knew he was good.
I also knew there were things that kept him from me that he wouldn’t share. I used to think he might have another family somewhere. I’d never asked him, of course. I never asked questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.
“Dad!” I said, a broad smile across my face. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s your sweet sixteen,” he said, as if I should just know.
“Yeah but I didn’t know you were coming,” I said. “It doesn’t matter! I’m so happy you’re here.”
I threw my arms around him, something that wasn’t easy to do with his height. I had inherited my mother’s stature and figure. I was average height, and curvy-something I hated about myself. I’d had to wear a woman’s sized bra since sixth grade. I’d never been quite comfortable in my own skin. I’d always wished I could be more like him, long, and lean. Confident. Like I owned the universe.
“Well, it’s not a surprise if you know about it,” he said, holding onto me tight. “I missed you, Camilla.”