“EVERYTHING OKAY?” NOAH asked Ella when she returned to their booth.
While she’d been gone, he’d buttered and cut Penny’s waffle and drizzled it with hearts the way Ella had done during their snowed in days. The sweet little toddler had kissed his cheek as a thank-you. She kept herself busy eating and chewing, humming happily to herself.
“I think you know the answer to that particular question.” Ella unwrapped herself like a present on Christmas morning—gloves, scarf, jacket, smile. “I’m fine.”
Her smile spread when their gazes connected. That smile… It was a gift, the same as Penny’s kisses.
Soft! Dr. Bishop proclaimed from the corner of Noah’s mind, where he stewed on a stool in surgery scrubs.
So what?
Ella’s quick wit and big heart soothed the restlessness inside him, made the fact that he could no longer be a superstar in medicine more bearable. She’d be gone soon, taking Penny with her. His chest ached at the thought, but it was for the best. Eventually, Ella would discover how deep his wounds went. She’d find a place where the staunch Dr. Bishop drew a line she couldn’t smile her way across. And then she’d realize he couldn’t be changed.
Mitch’s deep voice rumbled from across the room. He was talking to Shane. They were playing nice with each other—in the same booth, no less.
Noah and Mitch’s gazes connected. There were no exchanged smiles. No sense of peace. There were expectations. Ones that made Noah’s neck stiff.
Noah turned back to Ella. “What was that all about?” He nodded toward Mitch, who looked as if he was getting more information out of Shane than Noah ever would out of Ella.
“It was…” Ella’s gaze caught on the men in the booth and her smile lost its carefree feel. “Unexpected.” Her attention returned to Noah. “I may have to rethink my plans. How would you feel about me staying in town longer than a few weeks?”
Dr. Bishop fell off his stool in a dead faint.
Noah’s reaction was equally shocking. His mouth dropped open and his waffle-loaded fork hung in midair. It wasn’t immediately clear to Noah if he was more shocked that his snarky alter ego had keeled over, or that Ella had brightly presented the idea of staying longer. Just yesterday she’d told him what they had on the down-low could only stay on the down-low. He’d been relieved. Eventually, if she stayed longer, she’d discover his darkness went on forever. Her smile would disappear. She’d gather Penny close, turn her back and walk away, never looking back because she’d know Dr. Noah Bishop was hideous inside and out.
“You’re staying longer?” he murmured, placing his fork deliberately on his plate. “That’s great.”
But what if she didn’t leave? What if she never realized that he and the cranky Dr. Bishop were one and the same? Ella wanted to see where things between them would lead? Fantastic. He enjoyed her company and her kisses, except…
It might lead to her staying in Second Chance permanently.
Dr. Bishop sat up and groaned.
“I like it here,” Noah said firmly. He was hidden. He had his independence. No medical partners to answer to.
He did have to answer to Mitch. He’d agreed to keep his eye on Ella and try to sway her to Mitch’s way of thinking.
Stay here forevermore? Dr. Bishop tugged off his scrub shirt and tossed it in the trash.
Noah frowned, glancing up at Ella. “If you stayed, it’d be great. I’d feel great.” The words echoed in his ears like the hollow beat of a receding drum.
He hadn’t sold his enthusiasm. He could tell. Ella blushed to the roots of her hair. His frown deepened. He could feel it etching its way between his eyebrows.
Noah cleared his throat. “That came across the wrong way. I have a lot on my mind this morning.”
“No—no.” Ella’s elbows were on the tabletop. Her hands clasped. “I presumed too much.”
“I done.” Penny waved her artwork in the air. It took her an inordinate amount of time to chew, minutes she’d used to color. The two-year-old didn’t color within the lines. The entire page was blue.
The toddler climbed over Noah, gave him a kiss and slid over his thigh to the floor. She hurried to Eli Garland with self-important steps that made Noah want to smile, except…
Ella wouldn’t look at him and he had a sneaking suspicion that if he stayed in Second Chance he’d lose a key part that made up Noah. Or Dr. Bishop.
He cleared his throat again. “I’m happy you’ll be here awhile. It makes it more bearable.” The loss of his ability to perform surgery. The loss of his sense of self.
The loss of adulation, Dr. Bishop muttered.
“I’m not your Band-Aid.” Ella crossed her arms over her chest.
“I was thinking more like my teddy bear.” He tried to smile. It seemed harder to smile than it used to be with her.
“You have Woof for comfort,” she pointed out.
Her voice was so cold, it made him want to shiver. He didn’t like her bringing Second Chance weather indoors. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
I’ve never groveled before, either.
“You could make it up to me.” Ella volleyed her words across the table and speared a bite of waffle from his plate with her fork.
“What did you have in mind?” Noah could think of many ways he’d like to make it up to her, but he doubted she’d made the same list.
Ella’s gaze didn’t waver. “Take off your gloves.”
Noah fell back in the booth as hard as if he’d been hit with life-giving defibrillator paddles.
There were children in the diner. Kids, who’d cringe and pull out their photo-taking tablets. Roy, who had a way of never dropping a topic he was fascinated with. Shane, who felt the Monroes deserved the very best of everything. He’d point out all Noah’s flaws to Ella. He’d make her see Noah wasn’t worth her time or her heart.
Noah’s hands remained in his lap. His mouth remained closed.
Ivy rushed up to their table with moment-saving news. “Ella, I know we’re out of greens, but I was rummaging in the cupboard and found the ingredients for a three-bean salad. Does that sound good for breakfast?”
“How nice of you.” Ella gushed. “But I’m going to eat Noah’s waffle. He’s lost his appetite.”
* * *
“LET’S TAKE THE kids outside.” Sophie peered through the inn’s front window at the midday sunshine. “I don’t think we can hike up to the trading post, but we can walk down the road.”
Past Noah’s cabin? Ella made a soft noise of acknowledgement, not consent.
She slouched in a straight-backed chair, as spent as a wrung-out cleaning rag. She’d been so sure her feelings for Noah would be reciprocated. But his interest seemed more on the physical end of the relationship spectrum. Not love.
Not yet.
Ella’s temples pounded as she remembered the panicked way he’d looked at her in the diner.
Maybe not ever.
The news that Grandpa Harlan’s family had built Second Chance sparked Ella’s interest in remaining behind. Here was a story. One that could make the town an interesting tourist destination and increase the local economy or increase the town’s value for sale.
Maybe she’d blindsided Noah with a question about staying. Maybe he hadn’t thought beyond a diverting few weeks of companionship. He’d said relationships needed to take a natural course. Was he the type of guy who needed to ponder how a woman fit into his life? He hadn’t pondered that first kiss.
The kids ran around the couch, made the turn and then ran the length of the room near Sophie.
Shane sat on the sofa and frowned at the fireplace, a pad of paper on his knee. He’d told Sophie and Laurel what they’d learned from Mitch, which had made the two women excited, not because part of the mystery regarding why Grandpa Harlan had purchased the town had been solved. Based on what they were told, they believed the contents of the mercantile and fur-trading post were the property of the Monroes.
“Think of the inspiration that authentic hundred-year-old fashion and design could bring,” Laurel said.
“Think of the historical treasures we can save and restore,” Sophie chimed in.
Laurel was curled in the corner of the couch opposite Shane. “Is there anything interesting to see down the road, Sophie?”
“Just more snow.” Sophie didn’t quite look at Laurel and didn’t quite not. There were still hurt feelings there regarding Sophie’s little-heathens comment. “Maybe the snow will give you inspiration to design a new dress. Is white still in?”
“No.” Laurel settled deeper into the cushions. She had the brown-and-blue quilt over her.
Ella pulled the cowl collar of her lime sweater up around her neck. The top was a few years old and a comfy favorite of Ella’s on cold winter days. It was like wearing a much-needed hug. “Why can’t women wear clothes until they wear out instead of replacing them with the latest trendy color or pattern?”
“Because wearing something new is exciting,” Laurel said defensively. She longed for a career in fashion, after all. “It makes you feel good inside. And isn’t that the point to life? To feel good?”
“What if you feel good with what you have?” Ella murmured. What if it was scary to reach for something new?
The three kids turned and ran back the length of the room, their little feet echoing on the wood.
“The wind has died down. The sun is out. It’s a shame to be cooped up in here.” Sophie leaned against the windowsill, watching the kids pass by like a train that didn’t stop at her station. “There’s got to be more to see at the end of the road than I’m seeing now. What do you think, Gabby?”
Mitch’s daughter sat at the inn’s check-in desk with her laptop open. “Odette lives up the road. Last cabin before the bend. Otherwise, there’s not much different to see than what’s out here.”
Laurel perked up. “Odette the quilt-maker?”
The girl nodded. “She knits, too.”
“Let’s go.” Laurel’s feet hit the floor. She’d exhibited more energy in that one moment than she had in days. It was infectious, bringing Ella and Sophie around to the idea. “Kids, get your boots and coats. We’re going outside.” She stared down at an unmoving Shane. “You coming?”
“No.” His brow was wrinkled as if he was pondering the heaviest of issues. “I’m thinking.”
“Would you like me to stay?” Ella asked, lingering nearby. “Sometimes it helps to talk things through.”
“That’s okay,” he said absently.
Ella refilled his coffee cup before she left.
Once outside, the twins chattered excitedly about building a snowman. Penny tried to say “snow angel.” That all changed when they walked past the general store. It had to have been just this morning that Mackenzie had put bright, colorful sleds in the window. They hadn’t been there when they’d walked back from breakfast.
“A sled!” Alexander dropped to his knees and held out his arms toward the wares in the window.
Not to be outdone, Andrew collapsed beside his twin. “I would be so good if I had a real sled. I’d be one of Penny’s snow angels.”
Penny slowly got onto her knees, a slight frown on her face, as if she wasn’t sure if she should make a snow angel or ask for a sled. And then her gaze landed on a blue plastic sled that looked identical to the one she’d ridden with Gabby. She gasped and pushed herself back to her feet, pointing. “Mom. Sed. Mom. Peas.”
“That Mackenzie is a sneaky one.” Sophie adjusted her glasses and gave Ella a look that was half annoyance, half respect. “She knew there were three new kids in town who didn’t have sleds.”
“Brilliant,” Ella admitted.
“Who cares? They’re cheap and they wear kids out.” Laurel led the charge toward the store. “And while you’re picking out a sled, the kids will enjoy running up and down the aisles.” She opened the door for the rest of the clan. “That’s the point, right? Burning off energy.”
“That’s the point.” After a moment’s hesitation, Sophie corralled the boys and they all went inside. Sophie then let them loose.
Ella held Penny’s hand until they’d wiped their boots on the big all-weather mat. Penny broke free and set off to roam the sled display. Sophie was right. These beauties must have been in the back the day before.
Mackenzie greeted them with a nod since she was on the phone behind the counter. She thanked someone on the other end and hung up. “Hey, Noah. I ordered some precut salad bags for you. They’ll be on the next delivery truck.”
He’d ordered salad? Ella fought the urge to back out the door.
Boots echoed on linoleum. And then Noah appeared carrying a box of waffles and a bag of frozen grilled chicken strips. He saw Ella and stopped near a display of gloves.
Not that he needed any more of those, although she wouldn’t put it past Mackenzie to keep a big supply in stock to entice Noah to buy extra pairs.
His eyebrows were slanted low, the way they’d been the day they’d first met. But the look in his eyes wasn’t haunted. It was apologetic.
Ella didn’t want his apologies.
“No!” Penny greeted him enthusiastically.
Ella grabbed Penny’s hand, not wanting her to toddle over to give Noah a kiss. “I’ll pay for this gentleman’s waffles.” She turned away from Noah and entered the aisle with the sleds. “But I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“I’ll start you a tab,” Mackenzie said brightly.
The twins were fighting over the only red plastic saucer among the sled options.
“Do you have another saucer?” Sophie called to Mackenzie and then turned to Ella. “Why do my boys always see the one thing that there’s only one of?”
Noah moved past Ella and plucked a longer plastic sled from a hook near the ceiling. “This is what you need.” He must have dumped his purchases on the counter first because his hands were otherwise free. “The boys can double up on this one.” He handed Sophie the sled and bent down to the twins’ level, looking them each in the eye. “Or ride solo flat on his back if you’re old enough to take turns nicely.” He glanced up at Sophie. “Don’t let them ride face first. It’s a safety hazard.”
“As are coat sleds,” Ella added, earning an inscrutable glance from Noah.
“Thanks.” Sophie looked from Ella to Noah, brown-eyed curiosity amplified behind her glasses.
“Don’t ask,” Ella muttered.
“’Cause we won’t tell,” Noah added, straight-faced.
The twins gasped, having spotted something behind Sophie. They tumbled over each other to reach a yellow plastic water cannon. Shouts of “I saw it first” preceded their tug-of-war.
“Boys!” Sophie moved quickly, but Noah moved faster.
He captured the summer toy and held it out of their reach, disappearing into the depths of the shop before returning empty-handed. A stern look on his face. “That was over the line, Mack,” he called out.
“Well, now I know where the line is,” the shop owner called back to him from behind the safety of the cash register.
“This is why I no longer have nice things at home,” Sophie said on a half sob. Holding each son by the hand, she thanked Noah profusely. “After my ex-husband was downsized he became a stay-at-home dad. And by stay-at-home, I don’t mean he cleaned house and watched out for the boys, although that was our agreement. He let them run around like…like…like heathens.” Her thin shoulders drooped. “I’m going to have to apologize to Laurel for the fallout of my ex-husband’s identity crisis.” After yelling for Laurel and ordering the boys not to touch anything else, Sophie gathered the sled and vacated the aisle.
Noah’s eyes had widened when Sophie used the term “identity crisis.”
Ella felt sorry that he’d lost the skill needed to continue his dream, but he was an adult—not to mention he hadn’t been ecstatic about her decision to stick around longer. He needed to get over it, just like she needed to get over her feelings for him.
“Noah, from what I can see behind that beard, you look pale.” She’d meant her comment to be a dig, but her hand had somehow landed on Noah’s arm. “Don’t worry, your identity crisis won’t impact the behavior of any growing toddlers, like Penny.” But it had caused a bruised heart for one single widowed mother.
She reached over all the other stock on display for the blue sled Penny wanted that was in the window, but her arms weren’t long enough. “Shoot.”
“No-No-No.” Penny tugged on Noah’s injured hand and pointed to the window crowded with sleds. “Want sed.”
Ella sighed and stepped back, vowing this would be the last time Noah helped her with anything. “Please. She wants the blue one.”
One long-armed extension later and Noah was handing the sled to Penny. “The perfect choice for the perfect princess.”
Penny grinned from ear to ear. “Sed-sed-sed.” She dropped it to the floor and sat in it, scooting her bottom as if trying to make it go.
“Are you going to Sled Hill?” Noah’s voice was deep and rich and promised things that Ella knew he didn’t want to deliver on.
Her heart panged with unrequited longing.
“Ella?” he asked, because she hadn’t answered. “Are you?”
“If you ask me if I’m all right, you know I’ll have to say I’m fine.” Her frustration was getting the better of her and she hated herself for it. Ella drew a breath and tried again. “I meant what I said about paying for your waffles. I’ll buy you a tray of frozen lasagna, too.”
“Stop. You’re spoiling me.”
She would not smile or look at him. “Penny, the sled needs snow to make it go.”
“Technically, it needs an incline or a strong hand to drag it along.”
Pressing her lips together, Ella picked up Penny and set her on her feet.
“Penny needs to hitch her wagon to a beast who will do her bidding,” Noah continued. “I gallantly offer my services.”
“If you don’t take him up on that,” Sophie called back to them, “I will.”
Ella felt something suspiciously like jealousy pinch her jaw. She scooped up the sled and headed for the checkout.
“Going…” Noah said in that dangerously deadpan voice of his. Ella refused to smile. “Going… Gone. One beast is now at the beck and call of one Sophie Monroe.”
Ella’s jaw ticked.
“Were these quilted hot pads made by Odette?” Laurel had been in the gift-shop part of the store and held up some of the items for Mackenzie to see.
“No. Those are from the quilters guild in Hailey,” Mack said.
“We wanted to pay Odette a visit.” Laurel rehung the hot pads. “I’m a huge fan of her work.”
“Having seen one quilt,” Sophie said under her breath, and then shouted, “No chocolate, boys, since you misbehaved!”
“Actually, Odette made every quilt at the inn,” Mackenzie said. “If she kept everything she made, she’d need a bigger cabin. She makes things for people. Even I can’t convince her to sell anything.”
“Interesting.” Sophie leaned across the counter to whisper to Mackenzie, “I’ll be by later for that Hershey bar.” And then she said to Ella, “Don’t judge. You ate the last of my emergency supply.”
“Gabby said Odette knits.” Laurel held up a red-and-green knit cap made with thick yarn. “Did she make this?”
“No.” Mackenzie barely looked up to see what Laurel held. “Odette doesn’t sell her knitting, either.”
“She made me an afghan,” Noah said, standing too close to Ella. “She likes me.”
Mackenzie snorted.
“I’m also buying the doctor’s waffles and a tray of frozen lasagna,” Ella insisted when it was her turn to pay.
“I’ll spring for dessert,” Noah offered, trying to goad Ella into an exchange. “I like how women nowadays want to go halfsies.”
Ella pressed her lips together once more. Oh, but it was hard not to quip back at him.
“Are you guys almost ready?” Laurel moved to the door. “I want to see Odette.” She said it like Odette was a local attraction, like the hot springs or the world’s biggest ball of yarn.
“Odette lives across the highway.” Mackenzie had Ella sign a form agreeing to pay for her purchases. “Third cabin down. She’s got a wooden rocker sitting on the porch. But she’s not always open to visitors.”
“Not always?” Noah murmured. “More like not ever.”
“But I’m sure if you show up with her very good friend, the doc here, she’ll welcome you in for sure.” Mackenzie was almost as good at sarcasm as Noah. She grinned at him.
The Monroes stomped back out into the cold, sunny day. The kids climbed into their sleds, grinning with excitement.
Ella smiled at them all, but her chest ached. She’d lost all enthusiasm for their outing.
Laurel’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “This is a good hike to Odette’s, not to mention the sledding the kids will do. I’m sure we’ll all love a nap when we return to the inn.”
Sophie gasped. “You said a bad word.”
“No nap! No nap!” the boys chorused.
“No nap,” Penny said without much gusto. She liked her naps.
Laurel laughed and slung an arm around Sophie’s shoulder. “On to Odette’s!” It was the first time since they’d arrived in Second Chance that Laurel looked like herself.
They set off down the road, Laurel leading the way, setting a pace Noah probably appreciated. Sophie claimed she could pull the sled for the twins, so Noah only had to carry his grocery bag. The snow had been plowed to either side with an island of powder in the middle.
“Go, Mom. Go.” Penny giggled as she and Ella pulled away from Sophie and the twins. “We win!”
They waved at Roy in the diner window as they passed. Ella looked but couldn’t find the place where she’d tumbled into the snowbank. Soon, enough snow would melt and there’d be no trace of the snowshoe tracks she and Noah had made, no evidence that they’d fallen into a snowdrift, kept warm by the power of a long kiss.
They crossed on what she assumed was Roy’s shoveled path through the center divider and continued on.
“Hold up.” Sophie panted from the rear. “This is a tougher workout than boot camp.”
“That’s because you didn’t wait for your beast.” Noah transferred his groceries to the crook of his right arm and took the sled rope from Sophie with his left hand.
Sophie clapped. “You win the award for the handsomest babysitter ever.” Not waiting for Noah to have second thoughts, she hurried ahead to join Laurel.
“That’s beast to you,” Noah called after her.
“Don’t do that,” Ella snapped.
“What?” He pulled an innocent face.
“Belittle your appearance by calling yourself a beast. You’re not.”
“That wasn’t the vibe I got from you this morning.”
“This morning you were being a doubting jerk. There’s a difference.”
He dragged the sled by a plowed drift of snow. The twins scooped their hands into the depths and pelted each other.
Noah stopped and growled, “Behave.”
Eyes wide, the little heathens shrank back, not in absolute terror, but in respect.
“See?” Noah resumed his forward progress, moving toward a section of road away from the temptation of snowballs. “Beast.”
“Don’t expect me to burst into song,” Ella grumbled.
Something hit her calf. Ella glanced back. Penny was dragging her gloved hand through the snowbank and tossing tiny handfuls at Ella.
“Are you going to tell her to stop?” Noah asked, still in grumbly-voice beast mode.
“No. I’d rather go with the flow for now and see if she figures out for herself that there’s no fun casting stones.”
“Touché.”
“Faster! Faster!” the twins urged, having gotten over their fear of the proverbial beast.
“You little heathens.” Noah glared at them. “Where are your manners?”
“Please,” the boys chorused.
“Peas,” Penny added.
“Last one to Laurel has to eat frozen lasagna for dinner.” Ella took off, determined Noah would eat alone.
Her head start meant she was able to cut in front of Noah. The only way for him to pass her was to take his former lane, the one next to the snowdrift. Predictably, the twins couldn’t resist sticking their arms in the snow and creating drag, which slowed Noah down. Ella and Penny won, barely.
“Is that the one?” Laurel turned and asked Noah. “Odette’s cabin?”
“Yes.” Noah set his groceries down and gently tipped over the boys’ sled, tumbling them into the snow and eliciting peels of laughter. He took the sled and drove the end into a snowdrift. “You climb from here.”
“Me, No. Me.” Penny squirmed in her little blue sled, anticipating Noah tumbling her into the snow.
He didn’t disappoint, although it was less a tumble than a slow slide. He parked Penny’s sled in the snow, as well.
The round log cabin was a forty-foot climb above them. Someone—Noah?—had made a snowshoe path from Noah’s cabin to hers, but there was no path down to the road.
“Are you coming with us?” Ella asked.
“No. I’ve got someone coming in for a follow-up appointment soon.” Noah picked up his bag and walked backward.
Ella forced herself to smile. “I was hoping you were going to blaze our trail uphill.”
“Oh, heavens, yes.” Sophie’s smile looked more natural than Ella’s felt. “Or we’ll all be floundering in the snow.”
Penny had already flopped onto her back to make a snow angel, sinking deep into the white powder.
“It’s better than any city gym workout,” Ella said. “Or so I hear.”
Noah’s retreat hit reverse. He stalked back to Ella, stopping close enough to wrap his arms around her and deliver one of those heart-melting kisses, although he did neither. “What do I get in return?”
A kiss.
Surely, not that. But Ella’s mouth was too dry to say anything.
“Dessert!” Sophie cried. “At the inn.”
“Dessert…” His gaze dropped to Ella’s lips.
“With my family,” Ella croaked.
Noah’s free hand landed on her upper arm.
Or you can just kiss me.
Instead of administering a lip-lock, he guided Ella out of his way, and then began the climb up the slope to Odette’s house, followed at a much slower pace by two boys.
To her right, Sophie put both hands on one of Ella’s shoulders and whispered, “I think I might swoon.”
“What was that look in his eyes just now?” Laurel came to stand at Ella’s other shoulder. “Those weren’t kind eyes.”
“Or haunted ones, either.” Sophie laughed.
“If either of you say kissing eyes, I’m going to push you in a snowbank.” Ella bent to help Penny from her sinking snow angel while the two women laughed.
“Done.” High above them, Noah sent them a jaunty salute. “Enjoy your visit. I’ll see you for dessert tonight.”
The two women laughed again, chortling when they noted Ella’s blush.
Following Noah’s footsteps, the Monroes reached Odette’s one-story cabin and stomped onto the wood porch like a herd of restless horses.
“Do you hear that?” Laurel held up a hand. “Is that a sewing machine?” She had the same dreamy expression Sophie did when anyone mentioned nap.
“Or a washer.” Ella couldn’t tell.
“Who’s there?” a spindly voice called from inside.
“It’s Sophie.” She grinned at Ella. “And Alexander and Andrew and Penny and Ella and Laurel.”
The kids giggled.
The door opened.
An older woman peered through the crack. Her short gray hair stuck every which way, but her lips were drawn in a disapproving pucker and her faded brown eyes fixed on Ella. “Did your bus break down?”
Laurel peered unabashedly past the elderly woman. “Is that a Husqvarna quilting machine?” She gasped. “Look at the way those colors on your quilt block blend. It’s so beautiful… I could just die.”
“Normally—” Odette smacked her lips and studied Laurel “—that’s my line.”
“Taking fabric and turning it into something breathtaking is what I do every day,” Laurel gushed. “But when I look at your work—”
“A couple of quilts,” Sophie muttered to Ella.
“—it steals my breath.”
The old woman’s expression softened, if only a little. “Are you a quilter?”
“No. I’m a costume designer.” At the woman’s frown, Laurel added, “A Hollywood seamstress.” And when Odette still seemed unmoved, she offered the pièce de résistance. “For the movies.”
Odette’s nod indicated she was unimpressed. “I expect I should let you in or I’ll be heating the whole out-of-doors.”
They trundled into her cabin, which was as well-preserved as Noah’s cabin. But Odette’s must have been double the size of Noah’s. She had a large living room, a sewing nook and a galley kitchen. A small dining table was pushed beneath a front window. Two doors were closed and made Ella wonder what was on the other side. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a covered breezeway and more than one bedroom.
Although the cabin was occupied, her professional side captioned Odette’s home as Historic and charming cabin featuring open concept living!
“Come see this.” Sophie’s glasses had slid down her nose, a product of her grasping each curious boy by the hand. She was tilting her head back and to-and-fro, trying to see through her glasses as she looked at a framed quilt hung on the wall above the fireplace. It had various hand stitches around irregularly shaped blocks of faded fabric. “It’s a crazy quilt. The date in the corner says nineteen twenty-five. That was the year Grandpa Harlan was born.”
“Are you Monroes?” Odette’s brow lowered, as if being one was a negative mark against them.
“Yes.” Laurel was busy admiring Odette’s stacks of folded quilts and missed the nuances of the conversation. “Did you know my grandfather?”
“We all knew him.” Odette was a prickly one.
Ella wondered what secrets she hid between the lines of a nondisclosure agreement. And then her gaze was drawn to a framed cross-stitch on the wall. The most difficult path is finding the truth in your heart. It was the second half of the sentence written beneath the old map hanging in the diner.
Ella faced the old woman, barely able to contain her excitement. “Odette, where did this saying come from?”
Her eyes narrowed, although it was unclear whether her displeasure was due to Ella being nosey or because she’d struck upon something she shouldn’t have. “It’s a saying folks used to have around here.”
“It’s lovely,” Ella murmured, wondering if it was a saying the Lees had or a motto adopted by the town. She’d never heard Grandpa Harlan say anything like it.
“Want dat.” Penny pointed to a chunky, pink knit cap that was hanging on a hook near the door.
“It’s not ours, Penny. You have to ask if you can touch it.” Ella gave Odette a reassuring smile.
The elderly woman made a low sound in her throat, eyeing Ella suspiciously.
“Peas.” Penny tugged on Ella’s pant leg.
“You have to ask Odette if you can touch it.” Ella pointed to the cabin owner. “This is her home.”
Penny rushed up to the older woman. “Peas.” She pointed to the knit cap, then pulled off her own and held it toward Odette. “Give you.”
“She’s offering a trade,” Ella translated, which was good, wasn’t it? Since Odette didn’t sell anything.
A smile might have made a fleeting pass across the old woman’s thin lips. “That cap’s too big for a pint-sized girl like you, but…” Odette removed it from its hook and placed it on Penny’s blond curls.
Penny curled her fingers into the pink yarn and tugged it deeper on her head. “Petty.”
“Don’t stretch it, honey.” Ella reached for her daughter’s hands.
“Let her.” Odette patted Penny’s head. “That hat has been waiting for someone to love it for years.”
“Knitting always takes the shape of its owner,” Odette and Laurel said at the same time.
“Jinx,” Ella murmured into the ensuing silence.
Penny glanced up at Ella, her hands still fisted at her ears.
The two textile-loving women stared at each other—Laurel with adoration, Odette with assessment.
Laurel recovered first. “Did you make everything in here?” She moved around the room, touching fabric and yarn creations reverently.
“Is this for sale?” Sophie was still admiring the framed baby quilt, her two boys anchoring her to the hearth like little cleats.
“I don’t sell my work.” Cranky Odette was back.
Sophie turned to look at the elderly woman. “Could you—”
“No.” Odette cut off Sophie with a swipe of her hand.
Laurel came to stand near Odette. “Could you—”
“No!” Odette grabbed the doorknob and yanked open the door.
“Could you teach me?” Laurel blurted, a look of desperation on her pale face.
“Teach you what?” Odette shook the doorknob just as a gust of wind whipped into the cabin. “You say you already know how to sew.”
Sophie brought the boys over to stand near Ella and Penny.
“There’s an imprint every master seamstress makes in her work.” Laurel approached Odette and gently eased the door closed. “Like a fingerprint.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Odette’s gaze was measured. “What can I possibly teach you?”
“I…” Laurel’s gaze bounced across Sophie and Ella. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I haven’t found my imprint yet.”
“And you want to steal mine?” Odette huffed. “Just like a Monroe.”
Ella moved to Laurel’s side and put her arm around her. “Laurel wouldn’t do that.”
“No, I…” Laurel placed a hand on Odette’s forearm, stalling the inevitable reopening of the door. “I want you to help me find mine.”
Odette’s expression ran the gamut—disapproval, disbelief and, finally, acceptance. “All right. But no more talk of buying or selling.” She scowled at Sophie and opened the door.
The boys broke free of Sophie’s hold, charged through the door and tumbled down the hill toward the parked sleds, shouting about going to Sled Hill.
“But…” Sophie pushed her glasses up her nose, glancing back at the framed baby quilt.
“No buts.” Laurel grabbed her cousin’s hand and tugged her out the door. “Can I come by tomorrow?”
“No. I’ll come to you.”
Ella and Penny were the last ones out the door and probably the only ones to hear Odette’s parting whisper.
“If I decide you’re worth it.”