Page 78 of Mountain Summons

A familiar touch.

He turned—and froze.

His mother stood there, wearing a dark forest-green coat with a silk scarf tucked at her neck. And next to her stood his father, silver-haired, perfectly pressed as always in a tailored charcoal suit.

“Maman?” Tristan said. “Père? What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think we would miss this, did you?” his mother asked. Her eyes were bright. “I just can’t believe I had to find out about this from friends, rather than from my son.”

“I …” Tristan’s brain felt like it had slipped out of gear. “I didn’t expect…” His parents—his father, certainly—never, ever came to see him. When they wanted to see him, they summoned him to see them. As they’d done for his father’s birthday. “I wasn’t sure it would be your thing,” Tristan finished lamely.

His mother linked arms with his, lowering her voice. “You’re our thing, Tristan.”

He swallowed hard, not sure what to say to that.

His father held out a hand. “You didn’t think we would miss Lena’s opening, did you? Come on, son. Show us around.”

Over the next hour, Tristan introduced his parents to his teammates and friends. If Amaury was surprised that nobody seemed to recognize him as a great watchmaker, he didn’t show it. For a man used to always being the center of attention,tonight he seemed content to stay on the edge. Even when a reporter recognized him, the only comment Amaury made was about the quality of Lena’s work.

“These are beautiful. Lena is incredibly talented,” his father finally said. And then he made a point of telling her himself, filling Tristan with the hope that things might be different from now on.

Until her parents were preparing to leave, and her mother excused herself to say goodbye to a friend.

“Tristan,” his father said. “Could you walk me out? I was hoping to talk to you for a minute. It’s about our conversation in Basel.” Tristan’s smile dimmed. If this was another attempt on his father’s part to try to get him to quit his job, it was going to be the last one.

“Please,Père. Not tonight.”

“It has to be tonight. What you said—no, actually, what Lena said—gave me a lot to think about.” His father spread his hands wide. “I’m getting old, and I won’t deny I hoped you would take over the business one day. But I realize now that wasn’t fair to you.”

Tristan blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gentleness in his father’s voice.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t understand it until Lena told me off,” Amaury continued. “I have loved you since the day I met you, Tristan. You are my son in every possible sense of the word. And I always thought a legacy was the best thing I could leave you. I wanted to hand you something enduring—something I built with my own hands. But you’re building something different, and it’s not worth any less because it’s different.”

For a long moment, Tristan didn’t speak.

His father wasn’t an emotional man. He didn’t say these things out loud. “Tell me you’re not dying, Père.”

Amaury laughed. “I’m not dying. Not just now, anyway. I just wanted you to know that I understand what Lena was trying to tell me the other day. I came here tonight to see her work, but also because I want you to understand that I won’t do that again—I won’t try to get you to change your life.”

Tristan gave a half-laugh. “That’s the most I can ask for. Thank you.”

They stood there a moment longer before Amaury extended his hand. Tristan took it. His father’s grip was firm, but not forceful.

“You’ll let us know about the Tokyo show?” Amaury asked as they stepped down toward the waiting car.

“Why? You planning on going to see that one as well?”

Amaury raised an eyebrow. “Well, someone has to tell the Japanese press that talent runs in the family.”

Tristan chuckled. “I’ll let you know.”

When he finally said goodbye to both his parents and turned back toward the gallery, Lena was waiting at the door. Her eyes found his instantly, searching.

“Everything okay?” she asked as he reached her.

“Better than okay,” he said, pulling her in and kissing her temple. “It seems your words made quite an impact. Come on, let’s get back to your guests.”

EPILOGUE

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