Chapter 11 - The Thaw and the Summons
The crisp mountain air of late January brought a deceptive sense of peace to the A-frame lodge at 9,400 feet, but down in Denver, the shockwaves of Jason Miller’s corporate collapse were still widening. For three weeks, my mother, Diane, had lived under my roof with a quiet, chastened demeanor that felt almost foreign. She chopped vegetables for stew, helped shovel the cedar deck when fresh powder dusted the San Juans, and never once mentioned Olivia’s name. The constant pinging of her cell phone had stopped entirely after she blocked my sister’s number, creating a sanctuary of silence that I hadn't realized my soul was craving.
Yet, mountains have a way of keeping secrets only until the spring thaw begins. On a Tuesday morning when the thermometer climbed to a rare thirty-two degrees, causing thick sheets of ice to slide off the steep tin roof with thunderous roars, a bright red Jeep Cherokee labored up the icy switchbacks of Highway 550. It didn’t belong to a postal carrier or a utility worker. I watched from the south-facing kitchen window, my coffee mug warm in my palms, as the vehicle slid to a halt near our snowplow turnaround.
Mom looked up from her paperwork at the oak table, her hands trembling slightly around her fountain pen. "Becca? Who’s that?"
"I don't know," I said, setting my mug down and pulling my heavy wool flannel shirt tighter across my chest. "Nobody from around here drives a pristine Jeep with Cherry Hills plates in January."
The driver’s door pushed open, and out stepped a woman whose boots immediately sank six inches into the lingering slush. It wasn't Olivia. It was Evelyn Vance, a prominent high-end divorce and civil litigator from Cherry Hills Village whom I recognized from society pages and unfortunate legal cross-fires involving commercial insurance claims. She wore an expensive white puffer jacket, designer sunglasses pushed up onto her blonde blowout, and an expression that screamed urban panic.
I unlocked the heavy deadbolt, pulled the heavy oak door open, and stood in the threshold, letting the freezing draft keep my posture rigid.
"Rebecca Hart?" Evelyn asked, breathless from the thin mountain air as she puffed small clouds of white vapor.
"I am," I replied evenly. "And you are standing on private property."
"I’m Evelyn Vance," she said, pulling a heavy manila envelope from her designer tote bag with manicured fingers that were already turning pink from the cold. "I represent Olivia Miller. And we need to talk about an emergency injunction regarding this real estate."
I didn't step back to invite her in. I simply crossed my arms and tilted my head, letting the silence of Red Mountain Pass frame the absurdity of her presence. "An injunction for what? A house I bought three years before your client even knew how to spell Red Mountain?"
"Your sister’s marital assets have been frozen by the federal bankruptcy court," Evelyn said, trying to push past me into the warmth of the cabin. I didn't move an inch, blocking the doorway with my shoulder. "However, because Jason transferred certain promissory notes and equity claims through family channels just days before his arrest, the trustee is looking at all secondary properties. We are filing an emergency motion to declare this lodge as a marital asset in trust, which means—"
"Which means you didn't check the Hinsdale County Clerk’s database before you drove two hundred and sixty miles up a mountain pass," I interrupted, my voice as cold as the ice on the roof. "Because if you had, you’d know my warranty deed has been recorded since October of three years ago, completely free of encumbrances, liens, or fraudulent corporate backing."
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Evelyn paused, her hand hovering in mid-air. Her legal confidence flickered for a fraction of a second. "That... that transfer can be contested under the Uniform Voidable Transactions Act if it was made with intent to hinder creditors—"
"I am the creditor who bought it," I said sharply. "With my own W-2 income, my own commercial insurance commissions, and every spare dollar I earned while your client was busy posting vacation photos in Cabo. Tell Olivia that if she sends another lawyer up these switchbacks, I’ll bill her for the snowplow service."
