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  “Not much.”

  “Congrats on getting your house finished,” Breck said.

  “Thanks.” I clapped him on the shoulder before scooting into the booth next to him. “I figured that was as good a reason as any to get together for dinner.”

  “You bet,” Breck said. “Not that we need one.”

  “True, but it gives Breck’s mom a break,” Huck said. “She feels the need to make dinner for us every night when she should be taking it easy.”

  “She loves it,” Breck said. “She’s always had a soft spot for you. No one knows why, since you’re such a grouch.”

  “I’m not a grouch,” Huck said.

  “Not to her, anyway,” Breck said.

  Huck, after the fire, instead of moving in with his parents at their estate on the original Barnes family property, had opted to stay with Breck and his mother instead. Breck, I knew from previous discussions, had moved in with his mom because he was worried about her living alone. His dad had died when he was fifteen, and since then he’d looked after his mom, even taking over her veterinary practice so she could retire.

  As far as Huck went, I was curious if there was bad blood between him and his parents. If so, he never mentioned it to me. I figured Breck knew the story, but men don’t ask these things.

  We were distracted when the server came to take our orders. I did a double take when I saw that it was Stormi, our local photographer, wearing a green apron and carrying an order pad. Why was she working here? She had her own studio and also did weddings or special occasions. In addition, she worked part-time at the newspaper as a photographer. Were things so tight she had to take on yet another job?

  “Hey, when did you start working here?” Breck asked.

  “Since yesterday,” Stormi said, a trace of New York accent apparent in the chewing of her vowels. “I used to work at restaurants back home just to make the rent.” She was slight, with several tattoos etched into her fair skin. Her shiny brown hair stopped at the nape of her neck with bangs that framed green eyes the color of a vintage soda bottle.

  “Isn’t this jerk paying you enough?” Breck asked with a nod toward Huck.

  “The same crappy wages as always.” Stormi had the cutest spattering of freckles and one of those adorable noses, belying her overall edgy persona.

  “Nice,” Huck said.

  “It’s the wedding business that’s tanked,” Stormi said. “With the fire, I lost a lot of bookings. No one wants to come here and have a scarred mountain in the background.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Huck said, sounding very much the grouch that his friend had said he was. “Only the southern mountain was hit. The lodge and northern mountain are scenic for even the snootiest city folk.”

  “People might be afraid to come here,” Breck said.

  “Also stupid,” Huck said.

  “Regardless of your opinion that most of mankind is stupid, Huck, until we get back to normal, I’m making some extra cash working here.” She pointed at me. “Garth, don’t you dare give me that look of pity. I’m tough. And fine.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” I said. “We all know you’re tough. But still, if you need anything, let us know, okay?”

  “Like you have anything you could do for her,” Huck said.

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not exactly rich.”

  “Moral support’s nice too,” Stormi said.

  “How’s Tiffany doing?” Breck asked.

  Stormi raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, just that her income’s reliant upon the wedding trade too.” Breck plucked at the wrist of his flannel shirt. “I haven’t seen her around much. We usually see each other at the dog park.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Huck asked. “He has a huge crush on her.”

  Breck shot him a dark look. “Dude, not cool.”

  This was news to me and apparently to Stormi.

  “Really?” Stormi asked. “Tiffany doesn’t know that.”

  “I’d like to keep it that way,” Breck said. “Despite Oscar the Grouch’s invasion of my privacy.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Stormi said. “You’re wise to keep it to yourself.”

  “Why?” Breck asked.

  Stormi’s eyes widened. “Don’t you know? She lost her fiancé. He died. Very tragic. She’s not ready to meet anyone else.”

  “That seems to be going around,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Do you think there’s zero chance she’d go out with me?” Breck asked. “Because we both really like dogs.”

  “I’d say you’d have to be her friend first. She’s innocent.” Stormi narrowed her eyes. “Not the type who’s going to jump into bed with you just because you happen to be hot.”

  “There’s more to me than just my pretty face,” Breck said, grinning. “But thanks for the compliment.”

  “Is there?” Huck asked. “I don’t see it.”

  “You have more in common than just the love of dogs,” Stormi said. “She’s like you—nice all the time and always concerned for others.”

  “Which you find difficult to understand,” Huck said.

  Stormi’s eyes flashed. For a second, I thought she might unleash her thunder on him. Instead, she gave him a withering glance that would have made most men dive under the table. “Finally, Huck, something we have in common. We’re both best friends with nice people.”

  With these two, I was never sure if they hated each other or were insanely attracted.

  Stormi glanced back at the bar where her boss was pouring drinks. “Listen, I better get to work here before I get fired. You guys want a pitcher? There’s a special tonight.” She gestured toward a whiteboard with a list of food and drink specials scrawled in purple. “Rocky Mountain Breweries has a seasonal ale they’re pushing if you want to try it for cheap.”

  We all agreed and then ordered a plate of garlic french fries to start. No one could get enough of Puck’s wedge fries.

  “What’s up with you?” Huck asked me after Stormi left.

  “Who, me?” I asked.

  “Yeah, why the sudden dinner invite?” Breck asked. “We know you prefer to dine with your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said.

  “Whoa, that sounds like the words of a bitter man,” Huck said.

  “Did something happen?” Breck asked.

  “She basically kicked me to the old curb,” I said.

  “I thought you two were just having fun?” Breck asked.

  “That was the idea,” I said.

  “Did you scare her off?” Huck asked.

  “Basically.” I sighed, miserable.

  “What did you do?” Huck asked.

  Breck shot Huck a look. “Don’t make him feel bad by saying something rude.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” Huck said, sounding hurt. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

  “Tell us what happened,” Breck said, ignoring Huck.

  “I kind of told her how I felt this morning, and then she dumped me.” I traced the grain of the table with my thumb. “I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” Breck said. “You care about her. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “If it’s reciprocated,” Huck said. “Which apparently it isn’t. You should move on. Half the women in town want to sleep with the former Olympian turned slick lawyer.”

  “I’m hardly slick,” I said. “And I don’t want anyone else. I want Crystal.”

  “That’s a problem,” Breck said. “That I understand.”

  We were interrupted when Stormi appeared with our pitcher of beer and three glasses. “Your fries will be out in a minute. Do you boys want the burger special? It’s under six bucks tonight.”

  “Nah, I’ll take the chopped salad,” I said. “Extra chicken.”

  “Tacos for me,” Breck said.

  “I’ll take the special,” Huck said. “As the only one here who needs to practice frugality.” />
  Stormi looked as if she wanted to give a sassy retort but refrained. “Got it. Thanks, guys.” She turned on her heel and walked away. I couldn’t help but notice that Huck’s eyes followed her. For a man who claimed to dislike her, he seemed pretty interested.

  3

  Crystal

  Brandi texted me midmorning to let me know they were keeping her for additional tests. They wouldn’t be back until dinnertime. Worried about Brandi and the baby in combination with my disturbing conversation with Garth, I fretted all afternoon. In an attempt to occupy myself, I’d spent hours putting together dinners I could freeze for the first weeks after the baby was born.

  I knew something was wrong the moment Brandi and Trapper walked into the kitchen. I’d prepared an early dinner for them, knowing they’d be hungry after their doctor’s appointment.

  “What’s happened?” I asked, looking from one to the other. Brandi had her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her pretty face was blotchy and her eyes red. Had she lost the baby? I gripped the edge of the kitchen island to steady myself.

  Trapper put one arm around his wife’s shoulder. “The good news is, we know that the baby’s a girl.”

  “And she’s doing fine,” Brandi said.

  Then why was my best friend’s voice shaking?

  “Okay,” I said. My heartbeat raced as I waited for her to finish.

  “I have to go on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy,” Brandi said. “Otherwise, I could go into labor too early.”

  I sighed with relief. “Well, we can do that,” I said. “I’ll help with whatever you need.”

  “She’s supposed to go straight upstairs,” Trapper said. His deep brown eyes were troubled. The baby they’d lost couldn’t be far from their minds.

  “Okay, well, let’s get her up there,” I said. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

  Brandi’s eyes filled. “What about the bakery?”

  “Between your dad and me, we’ll make sure everything runs smoothly without you,” I said. “Your manager is doing well. Think of it this way—you were going to take maternity leave. It’s just starting a little early.”

  “Are you sure?” Brandi asked. “What about your kitchen shop? And all the work you’re doing at the shelter?”

  “Positive.” Having more to do would be good for me. Helping my best friend would be good for her. Trapper had his hands full with the building of his new ice rink. We’d lost the old one in the fire, and he was rebuilding a state-of-the-art facility for training athletes as well as an outside rink for recreation. “Anyway, Mindy runs the kitchen store. I just pop in once in a while.”

  “You’re the best,” Trapper said to me. “What would we do without you?”

  “I’m the one who’s been living here for months,” I said.

  “And cooking most of our meals,” Brandi said.

  “Take her upstairs, Trap.” I was already thinking through all the meals I would make and freeze for them. “I made a beef stew and biscuits. I’ll put two plates together for you.”

  “Where’s Garth?” Trapper asked.

  “Still at work, I think.” I answered as if it were of no concern. “His house is finished. He might be getting things organized over there. I’m not sure he’s even coming back here tonight.”

  Brandi picked up on my evasiveness immediately. “Did something happen between you?”

  “He wanted to take it to the next level, and I’m just not there.” I let this tumble from my mouth, eager to have it said and done with.

  Trapper and Brandi exchanged a glance. I knew what they thought. They thought we made a great pair. Brandi had encouraged me over the last few months to entertain the idea of something more serious. I was always quick to dismiss their romantic notions.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Brandi asked.

  I flushed. “I’m not sure, but it’s better for Garth this way. This whole thing was getting much too complicated.”

  “Fine, but this discussion will be continued later,” Brandi said.

  Trapper helped her from the stool and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you settled.”

  “I’m going to get so fat,” Brandi mumbled.

  “More of you to love,” Trapper said.

  “You say that now,” Brandi said.

  Brandi and I were chatting in her bedroom when her dad appeared in the doorway with an old-fashioned recipe box in his hands.

  “I found this while cleaning out another corner of the attic.” The box was made of silver tin and had a hinged top. “It’s full of Lizzie’s recipes.”

  “Is this the first time you’ve seen it?” Brandi asked as she snatched the box from Jack and lifted the lid.

  I moved from where I’d been sitting in the window seat to perch on the side of the bed. Brandi set the box between us. Inside the box were graying notecards, each with a recipe on them scrawled in small, neat script. They were in remarkably good shape considering they were a hundred years old.

  “You two have fun,” Jack said. “I’m off to Christmas shop.”

  “Remember I’ve been very good this year,” Brandi said.

  “I’ll have to ask Santa about that,” Jack said before disappearing into the hallway.

  Brandi rustled through the recipes and pulled a card out of the box. “It’s for shepherd’s pie.” She handed it to me.

  The recipe included detailed instructions for a classic shepherd’s pie made from lamb and topped with mashed potatoes. Brandi pulled one out for a biscuit recipe made with lard. At the bottom of the card, Lizzie had written: American biscuits taught to me by Merry. Serve with breakfast or supper on cold days. Good with or without jam, but be sure to use a nice cube of butter between the top and bottom pieces. “These cards are heart diseases waiting to happen,” I said, joking.

  “Yes, but I bet they were delicious.” Brandi put the biscuit card back and pulled out one for an apple pie. “They all worked so hard back then that they burned off all the calories.”

  We spent the next hour looking through the entire box. There were recipes for a rosemary-and-red-wine beef stew that made my mouth water and another with tips for the perfect pie crust.

  Don’t mess with it too long or you’ll make the crust tough.

  On each of the cards were additional words of advice beyond just the recipe itself, as if they were written to someone specific. Perhaps to her daughter? What a legacy to leave behind. Would I have any such thing to leave behind when I left the earth? Would I have anyone to leave it to? An emptiness came over me. Years of solitude stretched out before me. Brandi and Trapper would have their children, but what would I have? I thought about Garth and his confession this morning. Was I making a mistake sending him away? Could I ever love him? He would be a great man to make a family with. Yet I couldn’t see a future. Not with him or anyone. I’d had my chance with my one true love, and now I would have to spend my life alone.

  “Have you noticed they seem like notes to someone?” I asked.

  “I think so too. To Florence, I’d guess. She was Lizzie and Jasper’s only child.”

  “You could do this for your daughter,” I said. “Write down all your tricks and tips for your recipes at the bakery.”

  “Who knows how her generation will keep their recipes.”

  “On tablets or computers, most likely.”

  “Or something we can’t even imagine yet.” Brandi looked over at me. “Do you think I’ll be a good mother? Given my own?”

  “Wait a minute, are you actually worried about that?”

  “Yes, it keeps me awake at night,” Brandi said. “Worried that somehow my mom passed down her coldness to me and that it only comes out through motherhood.”

  “No way. You’re made for this, just like Jack.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am,” I said. “You have Trapper, too. He’s going to be fantastic, like his dad.”

  “True. I’m not alone.” />
  “I wonder if Florence ended up with these cards or if they sat in the attic all these years?” I asked as I glanced down at one for a perfect white cake.

  “I’d like to think Florence used them. It must have been something, cooking back then for such a large family that wasn’t even your own.” Brandi’s eyes misted. She fanned her face. “That could make me cry just thinking about it.”

  “Why?” I asked, amused by her pregnancy hormones.

  “I wonder how it was for her, really? Like under all that English stoicism?”

  “Your family isn’t getting any smaller.” I touched her round belly before pulling out a card. This one sounded like the perfect dish for a cold winter’s night accompanied by one of those American biscuits. I laughed as I handed Brandi the card. “Look at the directions on this one. She describes how to twist the chicken’s poor neck and then pluck it before carefully cutting it up.”

  Brandi shuddered. “I don’t think I could kill a chicken with my bare hands. Plucking all those feathers must have taken forever.” She turned the card over, then laughed. “She says in here to do it before you have your breakfast. What does that mean?”

  “Less likely to lose your breakfast that way?” I suggested. “She worked so hard all her life. I wonder if she ever felt too tired to go on? Or if she was ever resentful of Quinn?”

  “She didn’t seem to be from what we’ve read in the letters she sent home to England,” Brandi said.

  “We’re not as tough as Lizzie.”

  “Different times call for different types of strength.” Brandi placed her hand over her belly and turned over to lay on her back. “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m strong enough to get through the next twenty weeks. I’m scared, but I don’t want to be because I need to be calm for my baby girl.”

  “You’re strong enough. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “If I lose another one, I don’t know if I can make it through. Even with Trapper here this time.”

  “We’re going to keep you nice and safe here in this bed and in twenty more weeks, a healthy baby will be in your arms.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”