Family.The word echoed as Harley climbed the stairs, Orlando padding beside her.
She stood at the bedroom window, however. Aurora borealisrippled across the sky in streams of green and blue light that pulsed and shifted, a ribbon that shimmered against the vault of night.
Magical.
Home.
Maybe better than she could imagine.
She pushed her hands into the sleeves of the sweatshirt, sighed.Okay God,helpme trust you. Help me trust Jericho.
Felt awkward.
But she slipped under the quilts, Orlando resuming his post at her feet.
And she finally slept.
“THIS IS THEMOSTbeautiful boiler I’ve ever seen.” Jericho ran his hand along the sleek stainless steel surface, feeling the quiet thrum of power beneath his palm. “So what’s the problem?”
The LED lights cast sharp shadows in the room, glinting off the color coded pipes that ran in precise geometric patterns overhead. The space smelled of fresh paint and new metal, with just a hint of the damp stone beneath.
He and Hudson had changed into coveralls after church, then drove out to the Eagle’s Nest. Jericho had left Harley to visit Gregg and Winnie at the hospital.
She’d taken Orlando the Traitor with her.
When she climbed into the Silverado that morning, a coffee thermos in hand, and said, “To church we go,” it felt almost ... well, like they really were headed somewhere permanent.
Like it was normal.
Maybe it was. Or could be.
“She’s a Viessmann Vitocrossal 300 CI3.” Pride colored Hudson’s voice. “Triple-pass combustion chamber, Lambda Pro Pluscombustion management. Should be pushing ninety-eight percent efficiency.”
Yeah, Jericho hadn’t a clue what that meant, so he didn’t suppose he could work any magic here.
“What happened to the old boiler?”
“That monster?” Hudson gestured to the corner where the old unit had squatted. “Nineteenth-century coal-burner someone converted to wood in the eighties. Thing was basically a metal box with an appetite for timber. Dad used to joke it could eat through a cord of wood in three days during a cold snap.” He shook his head. “Last winter, middle of February, the heat exchanger cracked. Temp dropped to forty below that night. Pipes froze in half the guest rooms.”
“No wonder you remodeled.” Jericho traced a finger along one of the new copper pipes.
“Yeah, well, our boutique mountain lodge had icicles growing in the bathrooms.” Hudson’s mouth quirked. “That’s when I knew we either had to replace the whole system or give up on Dad’s dream. This beauty?” He patted the new boiler. “She’s the final piece in making this place what he always saw it could be.”
“And now she’s giving you grief.”
“Ironic, right? Trade in Old Faithful for this high-tech marvel, and I can’t keep a pilot light lit.” Hudson tapped the glowing blue control panel.
Jericho circled the unit, checking pressure gauges and connection points. “What’s your inlet gas pressure reading?”
“Seven inches water column.”
“Manifold pressure?”
“Three and a half inches. All the specs are perfect.” Hudson tapped the control panel. “But again, the pilot light keeps going out.”
Jericho nodded absently, his mind drifting to church that morning. To Harley, who hadn’t fidgeted or checked her phoneonce during the sermon. Just sat there, listening to the pastor talk on some passage in Psalms. All he could remember was something about high places or rocks or—
“Jericho?” Hudson’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
