“I’m a big girl, Ian,” she says, reading my mind. “You know how I process things. If I go through with this, you can trust that I’ve thought through every nuance of this choice and come to the decision that’s best for me.”
“I always admired that about you. Your thoughtfulness. Your commitment to weighing all your options, considering all the factors.”
But it’s not her rational mind I’m worried about. It’s her heart. Not mine, not exactly, even though I’m feeling twinges of emotion I haven’t experienced for years. But that’s just the newness of it, and I’m positive it will fade.
As I stare out at the long stretch of highway in front of us, I hope to hell I’m right.
“Pardon the reindeer.” The woman with long, dark hair and a contagious smile pats the rump of a shaggy animal with branchlike antlers before shaking hands with Sarah, then me. “We’re switching them from the upper pasture to the lower one, but some of them felt like hanging out here in the wedding reception meadow for a while.”
“I can see why.” Sarah turns in a slow circle, taking in the views of snow-capped Cascade mountains flanked by waves of bright green grass. There’s even a herd of cows grazing in the distance, lending the whole scene a postcard quality. A creek burbles along beside us, and the air smells like sage and juniper.
“This place is gorgeous,” Sarah adds. “I can’t believe it’s available for the night we want.”
Amber, the venue owner, tosses her dark ponytail over one shoulder and keeps scratching the reindeer. “You’d be out of luck if you wanted a Saturday or a Sunday,” she says. “Those are booked solid for weddings for the next eighteen months or so, but we can accommodate a small Friday reception. Well, Sean can,” she amends with a smile. “That’s my fiancé, the chef. He’ll be here any minute.”
I survey the views, agreeing with Sarah that the place is stunning. I’ve loved the mountainous high deserts of Central Oregon since I was a kid, but I haven’t visited much in recent years. Not since just after Shane’s memorial.
“It’s a great place you have here,” I force out so I don’t get dragged down by dark thoughts. “Reindeer ranch in the winter, wedding venue in the spring and summer.”
Amber smiles. “My sister and I own this place, and Sean’s family owns the resort next door. We tag team events like this every now and then.”
She stops scratching the reindeer, who responds by headbutting her hand. Amber digs into her pocket and pulls out a shiny red apple, which she offers to Sarah. “You can feed it to her if you want,” she says. “Hold your hand out flat like this.”
Sarah does, laughing when the reindeer crunches into the treat. “This is so cool.”
It is. It really is. Being here with Sarah makes it even cooler. “I’ve never seen a live reindeer before.”
“You can pet her if you want,” Amber says. “This is Tammy, but her stage name is Dasher over the holidays.”
“Hi, Tammy.” I scratch her behind the ear the way Amber showed me, surprised at how soft her fur is.
“She likes you,” Sarah says.
“She’s about to go into heat, so she likes everyone right now.” Amber grins. “So, this is the space. We usually set up tables right over there for outdoor receptions, but the barn serves as a backup if we get thunderstorms or if the wildfire shifts and air quality deteriorates.”
“You guys don’t seem to be getting much of the smoke,” I say. “That’s the whole reason we’re here. The place Cassie and Simon were going to do the rehearsal dinner got put on evacuation notice for the Bradley fire.”
“Yeah, we’re getting a lot of the overflow out here,” Amber says. “Normally we wouldn’t take an event like yours on such short notice, but everyone’s pitching in to cover for the places getting hit hard right now.”
I breathe deeply, surprised not to smell any trace of smoke. Just fresh air and juniper berries and ponderosa pine bark baking in the sun. It reminds me of the last time I was in this part of the state. Shane’s memorial was in the spring, and the smell of bitterbrush still makes my eyes sting for reasons that have nothing to do with allergies.
“You wouldn’t believe how many other restaurants we tried,” Sarah says. “Cassie—that’s the bride—she was getting desperate. That’s why she called a bunch of us in to help visit the few places that were available.”
“I’m glad we had an opening.” Amber lowers her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “Sean doesn’t take on many catering projects, so don’t share too widely that he’s doing it.”
“The website says he’s a Michelin-starred chef?” I ask.
Pride sparkles in Amber’s brown eyes. “Yep. And he has his hands full running the restaurant at his family’s resort.”
“I can’t believe he agreed to do this,” Sarah says.
Amber rubs a hand over a flat spot behind Tammy’s antlers. “Sean has a serious rescuer complex.” She says it with a fondness that tells me there’s some history there. “Your friend’s emergency is the sort of thing he lives for.”
“Lucky for us, I guess.” I lace my fingers with Sarah’s, a gesture that feels so natural I have to think about why I’m doing it. We’ve got nothing to prove to anyone here, so maybe it’s as simple as the fact that her hand feels good in mine.
Sarah glances up at me and smiles, then swings our interlaced hands a couple times.
“There he is,” Amber says.
