Fern strolled out of the woods behind the schoolhouse. Arden had no idea how long she’d been there, but in a town full of shifters, she supposed she was going to have to get used to people appearing and disappearing randomly.
“I hope we all do that,” Arden said firmly. “And I doubly hope that you don’t think I’m giving Baz my support just because he’s my—” She hovered briefly on the edge of saying the word; it still didn’t come as naturally to her as to the shifters. But it was true. “—my mate.”
“Don’t worry,” Fern told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Nobody thinks that. And you’re right. We’ll all tell Baz when we think he’s wrong. And,” she added, looking up at Declan, “when we think he’s right, too.”
Declan gave a soft huff, but he sounded more amused than annoyed.
“Anyway, I’ve got something for both of you,” Fern went on, unslinging her arm from around Arden. She reached into one of her skirt’s large pockets and came up with a handful of small, bright objects. “Oops!” She bent down to grab a couple that had escaped.
“What are these?” Arden asked, hastily bringing up her other hand to catch the fistful of bright, woven loops that Fern deposited into her hands.
“Friendship bracelets!” Fern said. She fished a few more out of her pockets. “There are plenty for each of us to have one, with some left over for new people. And of course I can make more if you don’t like any of these colors.”
Arden vaguely remembered some of her middle school friends making friendship bracelets. It wasn’t a thing she had realized anyone did anymore. But she was still deeply touched to be included. There were a variety to choose from, includingsome with bright clashing colors, and others—more appealing to Arden’s artistic sense of color theory—that stayed within certain realms of the color spectrum: green and brown, blue and purple, orange and green.
“I’m not wearing any of those,” Declan said from above them.
“Those aren’t for you. I made yours specially.” Fern had held one back, and she waved it above her head. Arden looked up and saw to her amusement that it was black and gray, matching the monochrome color palette that Declan seemed to prefer.
“Oh, fine,” Declan said with a not very convincing show of reluctance.
Fern pattered up a few steps and stretched to hand it to him. Meanwhile, Arden agonized over the different colors and finally chose a charming autumn-toned one.
“Come on.” Fern tugged on Arden’s arm. “Let’s go give everyone else theirs.”
Lexie selectedone of the clashing many-colored ones; Arden got the impression that, although flattered, she didn’t really care what it looked like. Baz laughed and picked out a green and brown one that Arden privately thought reflected his hazel eyes. Maida pored over the handful until the others got impatient, as if it was the most important decision in the world, and finally asked if she could have two, “so I can wear them with different outfits.”
By now, afternoon was lengthening into evening. Baz brought armfuls of dry wood and heaped them in the street, and soon a bonfire was crackling. With all the brush-clearing they had been doing, there was plenty to burn.
“You know,” Lexie said as she carried out two camp chairs, “at some point we’re going to need a different location. This is only working because we don’t have actual traffic yet.”
“Problem for future us,” Baz declared airily.
Maida looked toward the woods. “Are those people from last night going to come back, do you think?”
“If they do,” Baz said, “we’ll invite them to sit down and eat with us. This place is for everyone, not just us.”
After their parents’ visit, and with the addition of the propane-powered refrigerator, there was a wider variety of food. Still, for tonight they decided on camp food and soon had a pot of baked beans bubbling in the coals. Baz passed around chilled drinks from the fridge, beers for most (Arden took one, trying to remember the last time she’d had a cold beer by a campfire) and a soda for Fern in deference to her recent head injury.
“To us,” Baz said, raising his beer. “The Windrock Clan.” He leaned his shoulder against Arden’s, a stripe of warmth in the growing cool of the evening. “And all who join us.”
“Hear, hear,” Lexie said loudly, and the others joined in, quietly in Declan’s case, but the agreement was there.
Heat baked off the fire on Arden’s face. The new friendship bracelet rested cozily against her wrist, the sort of thing that she could never have worn to any of Grant’s fancy parties—nor did she care to. Her jeans were dusty from the day’s cleaning and ripped at the knee where she’d torn them on a nail. She hadn’t had a shower. She guessed that she was a mess. She wouldn’t change a thing.
Maida opened a bag of chips and passed them around. Lexie had just finished mixing up a pan of instant cornbread and set it in the coals to go with the baked beans. Arden was already starving. She couldn’t imagine enjoying any fancy gourmet dinner half as much as a plate of beans and cornbread, seasoned with smoke and the hunger that came from good honest work.
And she couldn’t imagine being happier anywhere than sitting here with these people, in this place.
EPILOGUE
Arden becameMrs. Arden Hayes on a gorgeous, clear autumn day. The trees flamed around the town, yellow aspens and red maples in a riotous profusion of color, mingling with the dark pines and firs. The last of the summer wildflowers had faded, but Fern still found enough to crown Arden’s hair with a garland of gold, purple, and blue.
All the families were there, as well as a number of family friends from town and the neighboring ranches. For the first time, the town truly felt like a town, with vehicles all up and down Main Street, voices and music and the smell of barbecue grills going full blast.
Arden had opted not to wear a full white dress. She’d had that experience with Grant, and she didn’t feel like repeating it. Instead she wore a long flowered skirt, a white blouse, and a veil so Baz had something to sweep away from her face before he kissed her so deep and long that some of the assembled friends and relatives began to cheer and whoop.
The weather was wonderfully cooperative. It had been dry for weeks, with just a few intermittent showers, so Main Street was dry and the weather was nice enough for the afterparty to spill out of Baz and Arden’s store into the street. The dads hadset up a sound system and then traded off playing DJ, with bass thumping and couples or singles dancing in the street.
