Today’s about her. About Evie.
I’m here to do what I came for: see the places she loved, and finally give her the kind of closure I’ve been putting off for far too long. The market square. The trailhead sign. The places that were just part of her life but now feel they’re part of me too, whether I like it or not.
I step out into the bright morning, taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air. It feels a little too good, but I push it down, focusing on the task at hand. I’m not here to get distracted.
I wander to the market square first. It’s small, but there’s something nostalgic about the way it all fits together. A little flower shop with fresh bouquets of daisies and lavender, just asmy grandmother used to buy. A baker’s shop with homemade loaves of bread that smell so good. The kind of place where everyone knows your name and makes you feel you’ve just stepped into a cozy romance movie where no one ever has a bad day.
I stop by the flower stall and smile at the memory of Evie telling me how much she loved flowers. She used to say, “You can never have enough flowers in your life.” I can picture her walking by here every Saturday, no matter what, picking up a bouquet.
I know she left when she got married, and I’ve only ever known her living in the city, but it kinda works. I can imagine her here…
Just then, I hear a loud, overly enthusiastic voice behind me.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Evie Harper’s granddaughter.”
I turn around, surprised, and there’s an older woman, hands on her hips, her huge sunglasses perched on top of her head like she’s about to deliver some kind of life-altering speech.
“I… yes, I am…”
“Dottie,” she declares with her hand outstretched. “Ever since I heard you were in town, I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
I shake her hand, recalling Bill telling me about this woman. Clearly someone who knew Evie well.
“Evie was always telling me about you,” Dottie says, lowering her voice. “Every time she came through town, we’d end up talking about you. She’d tell me about all your accomplishments, and how proud she was of you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t know she said that.”
“Oh, she did. Your grandmother wasn’t the kind of woman to brag. But about you, wow, she did.” Dottie’s eyes soften as she grins. “She was a force of nature, wasn’t she?”
I nod, feeling a sudden lump in my throat. “She really was.”
Dottie puts her hands on her hips, studying me. “Well, don’t just stand there in the market square looking like you need a cup of coffee, darling. Come on, I’m taking you to the Coyote Cup for a drink, and we’ll chat. I’ve got stories about Evie from when she lived here, and you’re going to want to hear them.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Sounds like a lot to unpack.”
“Oh, it is,” Dottie says, her eyes gleaming. “And don’t you worry, you’ll leave here feeling like you’ve lived in Coyote Glen for years.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I say, but my smile betrays me.
“Oh, trust me, dear. You’re ready,” Dottie says, grabbing my elbow and leading me toward the café.
As we walk, I glance around at the town square, the quiet beauty of it. It’s hard not to feel like I’m stepping into something new here. It feels almost like a second chance. Maybe it’s because of Evie. Maybe it’s because I’ve been running from things for too long. Whatever it is, I feel the pull of this place, Coyote Glen calling me to stick around just a little bit longer.
We reach the Coyote Cup, and the door opens with a soft jingle. The warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, making my stomach rumble. I look up to see a woman behind the counter, and her face lights up when she sees Dottie.
“Well, if it isn’t the queen of Coyote Glen herself,” she says, winking at Dottie as she fills a coffee cup. “And who’s this?”
I laugh. “Aurora Harper”
“Lani Riviera, nice to meet you.”
Dottie tugs me toward a booth in the corner, and we sit down, both of us cradling our cups. She leans in, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“You know,” she begins, “Evie had a soft spot for the underdogs. She was always helping people, even when theydidn’t ask for it. She was fierce, protective. There was this one time…”
I settle in, ready to listen, knowing I’m about to hear stories about my grandmother that will shape the way I see this town, and maybe even myself.
Coyote Glen, with its secrets and stories, is starting to feel like a place where I can finally let my guard down. And Dottie? She’s the perfect guide to lead me into it.
