* * *
“Oh, those flowers look lovely!” The squeal of approval caught Cadence off guard. She’d been kneeling in the dirt, covering the last of the Arctic irises with topsoil when she heard the voice. Dusting off the knees of her jeans, she stood to find a petite woman in a floral print button-up top and purple-rimmed glasses holding a pie.
“Ah, Mrs. Grant. Nice to see you again.” Ford waved from the ground, still bent over a hole he was digging for the Siberian peas. As odd as it sounded to Cadence, he promised they were great hedges if trimmed annually. The raspberry bushes she wanted would choke out the other plants, and were more likely to attract Ed’s frequent attention.
“It makes me so happy to see life coming back to this place.” Mrs. Grant’s smile stretched the width of her pointed glasses. “You must be one of Patty’s nieces. Let me see if I remember which one.” She squinted her eyes at Cadence, tilting her head. “Not Sophie. Candace?”
“Cadence.”
“Ah, yes, of course. How could I forget such a pretty name?”
Cadence searched her memories for this woman, vaguely recalling those glasses.Did she sometimes sit with Great-Aunt Patty on the deck and drink tea? Wine?The woman’s hair had more streaks of gray than color, a detail Cadence felt certain was throwing her off. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Grant.”
“Tillie, please. We’re neighbors now!” She lifted the pie pan higher. “I brought you a blueberry pie.”
One thing Cadence did remember was how amazing fresh Alaska blueberries tasted. She’d spent more than a few afternoons picking them with Patty. “Thank you.” Cadence brushed off her hands again, but some of the soil still clung. “Why don’t you follow me inside so I can wash my hands?”
“Ford, you’ll join us.”
“Be right in when I finish with this bush.”
“I do hope you’re planning to stick around for a while,” Tillie called from behind her as Cadence led them to the kitchen. Though they didn’t need light, she was thankful Ford had managed to swap out the breakers without incident. Later, she’d have to chat with Mr. Jenkins to understand the details of the trust and how it paid for repairs. Ford only mentioned invoicing the trust.
“Sadly, I’m supposed to go back tomorrow night.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. That won’t do at all.”
Cadence gave a helpless shrug. “I have to work.”
“But you’ll miss the Fireweed Festival. It’s the first festival of the summer.” Tillie set down the pie on the kitchen table and set to finding plates. Like Ford, she too was familiar with this kitchen. It made Cadence wonder how many people in this town had spent time here. Seemed it wasn’t only a lodge for tourists. “It’s this weekend, you know. You can’t leave before then!”
At the sink, Cadence reached for the faucet. She had hardly started the water running when she shrieked in surprise. Ed stood on the other side of the window, his nose pressed against the glass. Large brown eyes stared back at her with what she assumed was curiosity.
“I see you’ve met our local celebrity.” Judging by the clink of silverware, Tillie was preparing to serve the pie. “He’s a big fan of this place, more than any other spot in town.”
“We met once before.” Cadence stared back, wondering what it would take for Ed to flinch. He tilted his head at her, reminding her of a curious dog. Then his large tongue wetted his lips and smeared itself on the glass.
“He’s a little spoiled,” Tillie said, completely unaffected by the odd gesture. “Patty used to sneak him cabbage when he showed up at the window.”
“Really?” Cadence couldn’t imagine opening the window with himrightthere. “I thought you weren’t supposed to feed moose.”
“You’re not. But everyone makes a . . . sort of exception for Ed. He’s been around for several years now. I think the folks in Sunset Ridge would be devastated if he moved on. So in their own discreet ways, people make sure he doesn’t wander off too far.”
“Really?”
“Just Ed, though. And I didn’t tell you that. My youngest son, Ryder, is the local sheriff, you know.”
“I didn’t.” She tried to remember if the woman with purple glasses had ever brought over a son. Or any kids, for that matter. But she couldn’t place the memory. Cadence was getting frustrated with all the partial, blurry memories. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time and walk a day in that summer.
“Here.” Tillie handed her a plate with a few blueberries. “Can’t give him too many because of the sugar. But can’t exactly turn the poor guy away. He’s probably been peering in this window for months waiting for someone to see him.”
Ed’s ears perked at the sight of the plate, and he didn’t balk when she pushed on the window to open it. Though she meant to shove it up only a few inches, it stuck at first and rocketed halfway open before she could stop it.
The huge snout poked through the opening and lapped the plate clean. Cadence cradled the dish as still as she could. Though Ed was certainly close enough to pet, he was no horse. No, he was about three times the size of any horse she’d ever seen. And any sudden movement could make him feel threatened. The last thing she needed was to repair the window because she frightened him and his enormous head tore part of it out.
“Easy to forget he’s a wild creature,” Tillie said before moving to the table and taking a seat. “Come, sit down. He’ll scoot along when he realizes there’s no more.”
As Cadence slipped into her chair, Ford entered the kitchen. “That smells amazing, Mrs. Grant. You’re too generous.”
