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I tried not to look too pleased.

Doris noticed anyway. “Don’t smile yet, Dr. Morgan. His usual forestry work takes priority. You’ll have to coordinate your field hours around his schedule.”

My pleasure evaporated.

Barrett folded his arms. “And if I say no?”

“Then I call Edgar,” Doris threatened.

His expression changed so quickly that I looked between them.

“Who’s Edgar?” I asked.

“My brother. He chairs the conservation committee,” Doris replied. “He also likes meetings.”

Barrett stared at her for several long seconds while she smiled serenely back at him. Something about the exchange told me this battle had been fought before, probably several times, and Doris had never once lost.

Finally, he looked at me. “Seven tomorrow morning. North trailhead.”

I blinked. “Seven?”

“Yes.”

“I was planning to start at six.”

“Then plan again.” He reached for the rope he’d dropped on the counter, already looking as though the matter was settled.

I tightened my grip on the permit. “I lose an hour of usable morning light.”

Barrett paused and glanced back at me. “And you gain someone who knows which plants will digest your boots.”

“That only happened once,” I said.

One dark brow lifted.

I hesitated. “To someone. Presumably.”

“Seven,” he repeated.

I disliked the instinctive urge to argue simply because he’d told me what to do. I disliked even more that seven was perfectly reasonable.

“Fine,” I said.

Barrett picked up his rope, clearly considering the matter settled.

Doris slid the yellow form toward him. “Sign.”

His shoulders dropped by half an inch.

I decided I liked Doris very much.

Barrett was already waiting for me the next morning.

His truck was parked at the north trailhead beneath a stand of pines, the bed loaded with ropes, saws, fuel cans, and enough equipment to dismantle a small forest and put it back together again. Barrett stood beside the tailgate eating something wrapped in brown paper, apparently unconcerned by the fact that his breakfast sandwich was roughly the size of my head.

I climbed out of my rental Jeep with my field bag, plant press, sample kit, camera, GPS unit, and Grandma’s journal packed securely inside its waterproof case.

Barrett looked over the collection of equipment, then slowly lifted his gaze to me. “You moving in?”