1
ARIA
Cherry Hollow is stillhalf asleep as I drag my suitcase along the icy sidewalk. The streets are quiet, muffled by snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground. It’s been a while since I last visited, but this town never changes. It still looks like a scene from a snow globe—all quaint old buildings and rustic charm. White-capped peaks rise on all sides, but Cherry Mountain looms the highest, like a giant sentinel watching over the town.
I missed this place.
With a pang of familiarity, I let my gaze wander over Main Street’s colorful storefronts.
Mountain Brew – Hot Drinks & Baked Goods
Fireside Lodge – Est. 1890
Buttercup Bakery – Best Cherry Pie in Crave County
The last sign makes me smile. I’ve searched all over New York City, checking out bakeries with lines out the door and prices that made my eyes water. But nothing compares to a cherry pie from this place.
I hurry into the warmth of the bakery, savoring the smell of butter and sugar, before emerging a few minutes later with a pie box tucked under one arm. Then I make a beeline across the street for Bonnie’s Tavern. It’s the most popular watering holein Cherry Hollow, and everyone here knows Bonnie as a familiar face around town.
Personally, I know her as Grandma.
The tavern isn’t open yet, but Grandma is expecting me, so I walk right in. It’s a cozy old saloon, crisscrossed with exposed beams and string lights. Black-and-white photos of Cherry Hollow dot the timber walls, and a stone fireplace crackles in the corner.
Grandma is standing behind the bar, humming along to a Billy Joel song on the radio. Her white hair is cut shorter than last time I saw her, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looks through a stack of menus. Someone else is already here—a woman with dark hair, sitting on a barstool with her back to me. Before I can see who it is, Grandma looks up.
“Aria!”
She tosses the menus aside and hurries toward me. She’s a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, but her hugs pack a big punch. Her thin arms wrap around me like a vise, and I set down the pie and suitcase before hugging her back. She smells the same as always, like soap and wood polish.
“Hi, Grandma. It’s good to see you.”
“You too, honey.” Her bright blue eyes are full of warmth as she pulls back to look at me. “I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been too long. God, I haven’t seen you since…”
She trails off, but I know what she’s thinking. We haven’t seen each other since the funeral three months ago.
“Well, you’re here now,” she says. “That’s all that matters.”
As she fusses over me, my gaze catches on the woman at the bar. She’s moving toward us, beaming widely.
“Savannah?” I say, my heart lifting. “Hi!”
“Hey, Aria.” My cousin hugs me almost as tight as Grandma did. “I’m so happy you’re back!”
“Me too. I had no idea you were here. I thought you were still in Arizona.”
“Nope.” She smiles sheepishly. “I dropped out of college, so I’m back in Cherry Hollow for good.”
“Arizona’s loss,” Grandma says, wrapping her spindly arms around me and Savannah. “Means I get to have my grandbabies all to myself.” She presses a smacking kiss on both of our cheeks, then adds, “Oh, Aria! Did I mention Savannah’s an author now?”
“Grandma, you need to stop telling people that.” Savannah sounds exasperated. “Writing is just a hobby. I work at a bookstore…I’m not an author.”
“Well, not with that attitude.”
“But I’m not?—”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Grandma cuts in. “Aria, do you know any cute guys in New York?”
I blink at her. “What?”
