“Very nice,” I tell her. “I liked it too, so we’ll ordersome copies for the shop. And I’ve got one more coming that I’d love you to check out.”
“You’ll read it too?” she asks.
“I’ve read it already,” I tell her. “But yes, I’ll read it again with you.”
“Is it a series?” Meg asks.
“Nope,” I tell her. “Just one book. At least so far.”
Roan glances at me over her head like he knows which book it’s going to be, and I nod once.
He gets this pleased look on his handsome face, and I feel a rush of pride that he likes that I want to share the book with Meg.
“Can we have the radio?” Meg asks her dad politely.
“Of course,” he tells her. “You pick the station.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes as she leans forward to turn it on.
“There’s only really one station that works up the mountain,” he explains.
Bing Crosby’s voice fills the car, and Meg joins him, singing “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” at the top of her lungs. Her voice is pretty good, especially for a kid. It makes me smile to hear it.
“Come on, Dad,” she says.
But he shakes his head and I’m not surprised. I doubt I’ll ever hear Roan Connelly singing. But I don’t mind a bit. I’ll take him just as he is.
He glances at me again, like he can hear my thoughts, and I feel my cheeks heat.
As he turns onto the road that takes us up the mountain, lacy snowflakes begin to drift down and I almost wonder if all of this is just a happy dream.
“The farm is on the east side of the mountain,” Meg informs me. “That means we get the rising sun. It’s good for trees.”
“That sounds beautiful,” I tell her. “What’s on the west side?”
“Mostly houses,” Roan replies when Meg shrugs. “But there are still a couple of farm properties and some open space. The south side is all the super-fancy houses and the lodge, which is basically an old-fashioned resort.”
“And then there’s the park,” Meg says with a big smile. “You can ride horses there.”
“Yes,” Roan says. “The whole north side of Angel Mountain and down into the valley below are part of the state park. It’s protected land with trails. And Meg is right, you can take horses on them. It’s beautiful, though it can be dangerous when there’s too much snow, right, Meg?”
“Right,” she agrees. “I can’t go there by myself.”
“Not yet,” he says. “But we go together when we can.”
“You guys are never bored, are you?” I ask, feeling sort of amazed at what a cool setup they have up here. When I lived in the city, I never would have believed life in the mountains could be anything but boring for a smart kid like Meg. Instead, it seems like she haseverything she could want—a farm, unspoiled woods, a busy little town, and a beautiful library.
“Never,” Meg says, looking sort of surprised that I would suggest it. “I have lots of books.”
“You’re a girl after my own heart,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.
A lot of the women I know have always longed for babies and children. I guess I’ve always been so focused on work that I didn’t often let myself dwell on wishing for a family.
But Meg tugs at my heart in a way that makes me wonder about my life and where it’s going.
I can’t believe her own mother could just walk away. I get it that she wasn’t ready to be a wife and mom on a farm, but of all the things Roan shared last night, the one I can’t get my head around is that Erica doesn’t visit with Meg or call her.
If Meg were my kid, I’d never let her go.
