I take the offered seat and open my binder.
She nods at the color-coded binder tabs, a validation I haven’t had in months. Evelyn outlines her vision, her handchopping the air, frustration with her current clipboard system evident in her movements.
“I’ve run Bluebird for twenty-two years,” Evelyn says, “but launching a backcountry delivery program for the cabins scattered through these mountains has eluded me for two. I need a proper community lending catalog.”
I tap my notes. “I can revamp the collection and build those routes for you in six weeks.”
Evelyn leans in, her gaze on mine. “If you pull that off, I’ll recommend you to three other indie stores in the region.”
The math clicks into place in my head. Three recommendations means I can stop the monthly rent scramble. “You’ve got a deal.”
An hour vanishes. Time to wrap up.
“Take time today to look over the town,” she says.
I nod. “I’ll be back next Sunday. I’ll be staying at the lodge.”
“Great!” She squeezes my hand. Her palm is warm. “I look forward to getting started a week from Monday.”
“Me, too.” As I open the door, a bell jingles.
I stand on the sidewalk, feeling aligned for the first time in forever. My binder goes into the back of my car. Now it’s time to explore Main Street. I lose track of time until the wind shifts.
The clouds press down. The air changes, and that scent of rain grows stronger. I head for the café before whatever is coming arrives.
The Switchback Café is the closest place I can stay dry and order a snack. A win-win. Cinnamon and vanilla tickle my nose before the door closes.
The woman standing behind the counter has a silver-streaked braid, flour on her apron, and a face etched with lines that speak of an unapologetic life. She places a mug in front of an empty stool. “You must be the book girl. I’m Mae.”
“Rosalind. Ros, mostly.”
“Sit, sweetheart. I bet Evelyn talked your ear off.”
She’s not wrong. I settle onto the stool. “I enjoyed meeting her.”
Mae slides a cinnamon roll the size of my head across the counter and fills the cup with coffee she calls the real stuff, not gas-station poison. “This is our specialty.”
“Thanks.” My teeth sink into the roll. A surprised sound escapes me.
Mae’s mouth twitches. “Yeah.”
“This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, and I’m not being polite.”
“I know you’re not. You’re not wearing a polite face. You’ve got thatJesus Christlook. That’s better than polite.”
Laughter bursts from my full mouth.
She leans on the counter. “Are you staying in town tonight?”
“No. Heading back to Denver after this. I wanted to meet Evelyn and scout the town.”
“Smart. Do you know much about Hollow Peak?”
“Only what I’ve read on the Internet. It’s my first time here.”
“And?”
“The town is… quaint.”
