Lacey grinned and headed back to the counter, dodging a chair that someone had left pulled out too far.
Ruby stirred her coffee with a straw and listened. She was happy for Fiona. She was. But there was something about the whole setup that nagged at her in a way she couldn't quite name. A modeling agency operating out of a small office in the Adirondacks, recruiting girls from towns where the biggest employer was a ski resort or a hardware store. It felt like an opportunity that sounded too clean.
"Who is the photographer?" Ruby asked.
Fiona stirred her drink. "Garrett Finch. I was referred to him by Strutz Agency."
"Just be careful," Ruby said. "That industry chews people up."
"I know. I'm not stupid." Fiona pulled her coffee closer and finally took a sip. "I figure it's good money while I'm doing college. I'm not trying to make a career out of it. A few shoots,put some away, and I won't have to work doubles at the lodge all winter."
"Smart."
"The hardest part is going to be telling Ethan."
Ruby set her straw down. "I thought you broke it off with him."
"I couldn't do it." Fiona looked out the window at the street. "Not with him already struggling about Mia heading off to Plattsburgh. He's taking it hard. I didn't want to pile on."
"You're going to have to tell him soon. Call him."
"I can't. He's out with his dad hiking. Some overnight camping thing up on Cascade."
Ruby studied her friend. Fiona was eighteen, same as her, but she carried things differently. Ruby tended to hold everything at arm's length and examine it before she let it get close. Fiona dove in. It was part of what made her fun and part of what made Ruby worry.
"Just promise me you'll be smart about it," Ruby said.
Fiona smiled. "I'm always smart."
"You're never smart. That's why you have me."
They both laughed, and for a moment it felt like nothing was about to change.
The Cascade Mountaintrailhead was quiet when they got back to the parking lot. Noah dropped his pack next to the Ford Bronco's rear gate and stretched his back, feeling every one of the miles they'd covered over the past two days. His knees had opinions about the descent that they hadn't had about the climb, and his shoulders carried the memory of a pack that had beentoo heavy because he'd let Ethan talk him into bringing a cast-iron skillet for the campfire.
Ethan tossed his own pack into the truck bed and leaned against the tailgate, looking tired but looser than he had in weeks. That was the whole point. Two nights on the mountain, no cell service, no distractions, just the two of them and long silences that eventually turned into real conversations if you gave them enough room.
They'd talked about Mia leaving. About what the house would feel like with her gone. About whether Ethan wanted to look into trade programs or community college or just work for a while and figure it out. Noah hadn't pushed. He'd listened, asked a few questions, and let the fire do most of the work. Campfires were better therapists than most people gave them credit for.
"You stink," Ethan said, pulling his boots off and tossing them into the truck.
"You're not exactly a bouquet."
"At least I didn't fall in the creek."
"I didn't fall. I stepped wrong."
"You fell."
Noah opened the back and arranged the packs so they wouldn't slide. "Is Fiona going to be at the party tonight?"
Ethan paused, one hand on the tailgate. "I don't know."
"I figured you would, you only mentioned her about forty times in the last two days."
The tips of Ethan's ears went red, which on a seventeen-year-old boy was as good as a confession. "She can't make it. She has some modeling shoot tonight."
"Modeling?" Noah closed the tailgate and looked at his son. "She must be a looker."
