“It’s just a house,” Lynda admitted. “Empty rooms filled with furniture and memories. Some good, some not so good.”
“Then why go back?” Kathleen asked.
“Because it’s the responsible thing to do,” Lynda replied, falling back on the rule that had guided most of her adult decisions. “Because I can’t just abandon the practice I built, or my daughter. I spoke to Amy last night. Her boys are getting into all sorts of mischief, and she needs her mom. I can’t hide out here forever.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Hiding?”
Lynda traced the rim of her coffee mug with her finger. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “It’s easy here. Comfortable. I have my friends, meaningful work, and no one expecting anything from me beyond what I choose to give.” She sighed. “But it’s not real life.”
“Seems pretty real to me,” Kathleen observed, reaching for the coffee pot to refill her mug. “Just a different version than the one you had before.”
“I’ve spent so long defining myself by my work,” Lynda said quietly. “Dr. Morth, the veterinarian. Then, after the divorce, Iwas the woman who rebuilt her life on her own terms. I know who I am in Denver. Here, I’m... I don’t know. Still figuring it out, I guess.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Kathleen suggested. “At our age, how many chances do we get to reinvent ourselves?”
Lynda smiled, thinking of Isabel and her decision to buy the bookstore after decades as a librarian. “Good point.”
She finished her toast and took the plate to the sink, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I thought you’d be at the café by now.”
Kathleen shrugged. “Chloe offered to bake the muffins and organize the special orders this morning. It was wonderful to have a sleep-in and not have to rush into work.”
Lynda wiped her hands on the dish towel. “You should have more time off, especially while you’re remodeling the house on the point.”
“I enjoy being busy,” Kathleen told her.
“Well, don’t do too much.” Lynda picked up her purse and jacket. “I should get going. You know how Isabel gets when she has a project in mind.”
“Like a very bookish bulldozer,” Kathleen agreed with affection. “You’ll be there before she arrives.”
Lynda looked on the table for her reading glasses. “I know where she keeps the spare key. You haven’t seen my?—”
Kathleen picked up a black velvet case. “Reading glasses? I saw them when I came into the kitchen. Tell Isabel I’ll drop some lunch off for both of you around noon.”
“That’d be wonderful. Enjoy your day, Kathleen.” As Lynda walked down the path toward town, she thought about what Kathleen had said about reinventing yourself.
At sixty-seven, was she really thinking about starting over yet again? Trading the life she’d carefully rebuilt after her divorce for something new and undefined?
The idea was terrifying. Exciting. Possibly foolish.
But as Sapphire Bay came to life around her—shopkeepers opening doors, locals greeting each other by name, the mountains standing tall in the distance—Lynda felt a sense of rightness she couldn’t ignore. For the first time in years, she was going through her days without the empty loneliness that had become her constant companion in Denver.
Maybe this wasn’t hiding after all. Maybe it was finally finding her way home.
CHAPTER 2
Matt Reynolds parked his truck outside the Sapphire Bay Animal Shelter and grabbed his medical bag from the passenger seat. The old building needed a fresh coat of paint and probably a new roof, but the blue and white “Animals Need Homes” sign hanging over the entrance was as cheerful as ever.
He checked his watch. It was eight o’clock, a full hour before the shelter officially opened. Carol, the shelter manager, had texted him about a border collie they’d found near the highway yesterday. The dog was spooked and wouldn’t let anyone touch him, so Matt had offered to come in early and check him out.
As he unlocked the door with the key Carol had given him years ago, the familiar chorus of barks and meows greeted him. The shelter was small, with just ten dog kennels and separate rooms for the cats and kittens. But it was clean and the animals were well cared for, despite the constant struggle for funding.
“Morning, everyone,” Matt called out as he opened the door to the kennels. The barking intensified, and he smiled. After all the years he’d been coming here, he still enjoyed the noisy welcome at the animal shelter. “I know, I know. Breakfast is coming soon.”
He made his way to the isolation room where new arrivals were kept until they could be examined. Through the glass window in the door, he saw the border collie huddled in the far corner of the kennel, his black and white coat matted with dirt.
“Hey there, buddy,” Matt said softly as he entered the room. The dog’s head snapped up, his eyes wary. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”
He set his bag down and sat on the floor, pretending to ignore the dog. This wasn’t his first rodeo with scared strays. Years of practice had taught him that patience often worked better than anything else.
