GARRETT
I KNOW something unusual is going on when my mother texts me from the jet that she wants me to pick her up from the airport personally.
It's unlike her.
Normally she has Walt or Dora act as her chauffeur to and from the small, private airport twenty minutes outside the Lodge. After my father died, she made it her mission to travel the world, to do so frequently and in style.
My mother knows I'm too busy to ferry her around. She respects my work schedule. My father ran the pack and the business before me. She gets it—she never tries to have me at her beck and call because she knows her lifestyle is dependent on my hard work.
