When his phone rang, he picked up the receiver out of habit. “Chase Fletcher.”
“Chase, this is Doug at the bank. Congratulations on the story—everyone’s talking about it. Listen, we’ve reviewed your loan application. If you’re still interested, we’d be happy to extend the terms.”
Chase stilled. “Are you serious?”
“Never been more serious. Your father and grandfather would be proud of you.”
Chase froze, his hand gripping the phone tighter. His chest tightened too, but not with stress—for once, it was relief. Real, bone-deep relief.
He blinked a couple of times to clear his blurry vision, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He didn’t realize how much he’d been holding in until it hit him all at once. “Yes. Yes, I’d like to accept that loan extension.” He set the phone down slowly and let out a shaky breath. His eyes flicked up toward the ceiling, and his lips moved before he even realized it.
“Thank you.”
The paper was safe.
Scout, he hoped, could forgive him for that.
Scout wrestled the second enormous suitcase through the door, letting it thud onto the floor beside the first. She leaned against the doorframe, catching her breath. “Mother, just how long do you plan to stay?”
“A woman never knows what she might need,” her mother said primly, straightening her dress and taking in the small cottage with a critical eye.
Scout gestured toward the bedroom. “You can take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”
Her mother walked around the small living area, eyeing the sparse furnishings with a look on her face like she’d stumbled into a yard sale. “So this is where you live?”
“For as long as I’m in Acadia,” Scout said, taking two glasses out of the cupboard. She had only two clean ones.
“And just how long will this ... outpost last?”
Scout tried not to roll her eyes. She knew Mother considered her stint as a ranger to be a phase to grow out of. “I hope for a very long time. I like it here.” Shelovedit here. “And honestly, I’m very fortunate to have a place all to myself. It’s rare. Most rangers are in dorms. The seasonal workers are in campgrounds—RVs mostly, but some are in tents.” She added some ice to the glasses and poured sweet tea from a bottle she found in the back of the refrigerator.
Her mother turned to her, aghast. “Tents? Magnolia Pearl, surely you would never live like that.”
Scout grinned. “Surely I would and surely I did. Durin’ every college summer when I worked as a seasonal ranger.”
“You never told me.” Her mother let out a sigh and ran her fingers along the edge of the empty bookshelf, shaking her head. “This is how I imagine that your father lives—like he’s ready for evacuation at any moment.”
Scout smirked and folded her arms. “Well, now I know where I get my adaptability.”
Her mother ignored that, continuing her tour with a critical eye. “No curtains? No rugs? And that couch is atrocious.”
“Exactly the right word for it.”
Mother sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Any place you live should feel like home. Not like ... an unfinished dorm room.”
Scout shrugged. “It’s simple. Easy to take care of. I like it.” She handed her mother a glass of iced tea.
Her mother perched on the edge of the couch, as if it might be crawling with something awful. “So, have you met anyone interesting lately?”
Scout groaned inwardly. “Mother, I work long hours. My social circle is mostly hikers and the occasional lost tourist.”
Her mother waved that off. “I’m not talking about tourists. I mean ... gentlemen?”
Scout walked over to the kitchen counter and opened a cupboard, busying herself with no clear purpose. “Ranger Rivers is nice. He’s a little old for me, though. Shall I introduce the two of you?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. What about that giant on the tourist boat?”
“What about him?”
