“Ryder, would you like me to fix you a glass of iced tea?” Fiona offered.
“You have anything else?” Kinley interjected. Though she enjoyed the sour look on his face whenever he tried to stomach something sweet out of politeness—and Fiona’s tea was as sweet as it came—she felt the need for intervention. “Beer? Water?”
“I suppose I could grab a round.” Fiona looked at her. “Last time you were home, you weren’t old enough to drink. Amber or White, kids? It’s all I got.”
“White, thank you,” Ryder said, laying the ladder flat on the cabin floor.
“Water for me, thanks.”
Thank you, Ryder mouthed to Kinley when Fiona’s back was turned. It only made those stupid overactive butterflies in her stomach crazier. Keeping Ryder at arm’s length was only becoming harder. But then again, she only had a few days left. Maybe she should focus on enjoying her time as the gift it was. Surely, distance would solve the problem of actually making a decision.
Fiona handed one bottled water to Kinley and set the beer on the coffee table shoved up against the couch as Ryder removed the old screws from the disabled rungs.
“How long’s it been since you’ve been able to get to the loft?” Kinley asked Fiona.
“Year or more, I guess. Don’t really have much need to go up there these days.” When Kinley and her mom both lived in the cabin, the loft had been the only place to store anything. Cassidy had one bedroom, and Kinley stayed in a small room Fiona eventually converted into a pantry. They were cramped, but they made it work. She missed that bond, the way the three of them stuck together no matter what. Sending her aunt plane tickets was special in its own way, but it wasn’t the same as beinghome.
Fiona set her hand on Kinley’s arm. “We’ll grab that box after dinner. If you’re meant to find the answer you’re looking for, you will, baby girl.”
Kinley returned to the kitchen to prepare the salad, the whine of the drill echoing off the cabin’s high ceiling. But the chore bought her little time to calm her erratic pulse before the oven timer dinged and Ryder announced the ladder was good as new. Whether her heart beat a little faster for the box or Ryder, she couldn’t be certain.
“Let’s eat!” Fiona announced. “I’m starved.”
Rowdy trotted toward the table, lying obediently beside Ryder. “It’s amazing how well-trained she is,” Kinley commented, both impressed and filled with a sense of dread. No one who spent so much time training a dog would just dump her off.Would they?
Ryder slid into his seat, but the tension he carried in his shoulders never released. Gone was the easygoing smile from earlier, and in its place that hard straight line she wanted to kiss away. “I have a name and address,” he said to Kinley. “For her owner.”
“Well, that’s wonderful news, right?” Fiona chimed in. “I’m sure she misses home.”
“Where is it?”
“Palmer.”
“That’s like a three-hour drive,” Kinley said. “How—”
“I tried the phone number, but it’s been disconnected.”
“What will you do?” Fiona asked, cutting into her fillet.
“Thought about taking a drive up there Sunday if the owner doesn’t come claim her before then.” He lifted those pained eyes at Kinley, pleading. “Didn’t know if you wanted to come along?”
Overwhelmed by a whoosh of sadness at the thought of saying good-bye to Rowdy, Kinley cleared her throat, attempting to swallow back a tear. She scolded herself into pulling herself together.You’d be telling her good-bye next week. What difference does it make?
“You should go, Kinley,” Fiona encouraged. “You never got to do a lot of travelinginsideAlaska. Might be a fun road trip before you head back to your Army deal. Palmer has some good restaurants and charming shops. Might as well make a day out of it for that long of a drive.”
“What do you say?” Ryder asked.
Despite her common sense warning her to keep her distance, she couldn’t let him make that trip alone. “Of course I’ll go.”
* * *
Dishes washed and leftovers put away, Kinley retreated to her bedroom and closed the door. The cardboard box from the loft sat on the chair beside her bed, both calling to her and taunting her. Fiona was right. The chance that the box held some mysterious answer was unlikely.
The odds the box held pieces of her mom that’d bring Kinley to tears were high.
She dropped onto the bed, pulling the chair closer. She heard Pickles hiss from the other side of the door as she opened the flaps. “That cat,” she mumbled with an amused head shake. He was no doubt happy to have the run of the cabin again with Rowdy gone. It’d taken him more than an hour to abandon his hiding spot after Ryder left.
With delicate hands, Kinley removed one item at a time and set them on the comforter for further investigation. Her mom’s favorite sweatshirt, an Aerosmith CD, a couple of paperbacks—one so worn the spine had unraveled, leaving the book in three sections—a postcard of a B&B she didn’t recognize, a handful of photos, and a tiny velvet pouch.
