Chapter 13
Thirteen
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
—William Shakespeare
Coop leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as he watched Frankie stumble groggily out of bed. Frankie had been out past midnight and turned on the light when he finally came back to the room, waking Coop out of a sound sleep.
So Coop decided to return the favor at four a.m.
Dawn would be here soon, and they were due up at Pilgrim Creek to keep an eye on the bear-eager photographers. “Speed it up,” Coop muttered, his patience already worn thin.
Frankie mumbled something unintelligible—perhaps unrepeatable—as he stumbled into the hallway to head toward the communal bathroom. Coop had to step over things in their cluttered room. Frankie’s junk was strewn everywhere. Coop sighed, disgusted.
As he searched for the keys to his truck, Coop thought to check the pocket of Frankie’s coat. Bingo. There they were. Unbelievable! He was just starting to think this kid had some redeeming qualities, and now this . No wonder he kept getting kicked out of boarding school.
With a frustrated huff, he held his keys in the air as Frankie returned to the room. “Seriously? You borrowed my truck without asking?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up to ask.” Frankie shrugged, his nonchalant attitude only fueling Coop’s irritation. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a pretty big deal to me.” Coop couldn’t believe Frankie’s lack of remorse. He was no stranger to the self-centeredness of teenagers, but this kid took it to a whole new level. “And it’s a big deal that you made me late for work.”
With that, Coop left the room to let Frankie fend for himself. As he reached his truck, he threw open the door and climbed in, only to find more evidence of Frankie the slob. Candy wrappers littered the floor, empty soda cans rolled around on the passenger seat, and worst of all, the gas tank was nearly empty.
“Incredible,” Coop muttered to himself as he started up the truck.
The passenger door opened, and Frankie scrambled in, boots still untied, shirt unbuttoned, coat unzipped. “Hey, I’m sorry, dude.”
“Sure you are.”
Frankie closed the door. “Really. I am. But if I had wheels, I would loan them to you, anytime. We’re compadres.”
“You don’t have wheels and we’re not compadres. I’m your boss and you’re my lowly intern.”
Frankie huffed. “Fine. I won’t borrow your truck again without asking.”
“You won’t borrow it, period.”
He rolled his eyes. “Got it.”
“And you’re going to buy me a full tank of gas today.”
“A full tank? Dude! I only drove to Jackson and back last night.”
“Plus you’re going to wash the exterior and vacuum the interior.” Coop tossed a candy wrapper at him. “After you throw out all your trash.”
Frankie let out a heavy sigh.
“And then you’re going to clean up our room.”
“Boot camp,” Frankie muttered.
“Pardon me?”
“I said, ‘Suits me.’”
Coop nodded. “That’s what I thought you said.”
Maisie stood in front of the old, slightly tarnished mirror on top of the bureau, studying the picture on her smartphone and comparing it to her reflection in the mirror. On her smartphone was a zoomed-in, close-up photo she’d taken of Kate, when she was staring at a bird or moose or something out in the distance. The more time Maisie spent with the photographer, the more she decided that Kate was everything she wanted to be: smart, pretty, super focused. Everything her mom was not. Well, not the pretty and smart part but the focused part. Her mom could walk into a room and forget why she was there.
Maisie admired everything about Kate, with her effortless style and the way she seemed to forge ahead, turning heads. Mostly, Frankie’s. It swiveled to stare at Kate. The funny thing was that Maisie didn’t blame him. Kate was that pretty.
So she was on a mission to transform herself into Kate, helped by a visit to a pharmacy in Jackson yesterday when she tagged along on Pops’s errands. She spent an entire month’s allowance on makeup and hair products.
Hair came first. Kate’s brownish-red hair was thick, wavy, gathered high on the back of her head, cascading into a long swirly ponytail. Shiny, like it was spun from sunrays. Maisie’s hair was wild and fuzzy red curls that refused to be tamed. She wrestled with the straightener she’d borrowed from her mom, tugging and pulling, but each curl seemed to fight back. Gobs of hair spray helped her tackle most of it into a ponytail, but it looked like a pom-pom stuck on the back of her head.
Studying Kate’s eye makeup in the photo, Maisie then applied a smoky gray liner on each eyelid. Her hand was a little shaky and the liner wasn’t quite straight in places. She squinted into the mirror. Bleh. She made a second pass over the liner, a little wider to cover her mistakes. Not too bad.
Next came black mascara. One coat, two coats, three coats. She smeared a thick layer of foundation over her cheeks to hide her freckles. Lots and lots of foundation.
Finally, a shiny pink lip gloss. A sigh escaped Maisie’s lips, her frustration mounting as she eyed her braces in the mirror. Kate had a perfect white smile, like in those toothpaste commercials.
Last came the outfit. Maisie had carefully chosen clothes that screamed “Kate”—she thought so, anyway. A simple top, jeans, and hiking boots. Perfect. Casual and cool. She turned this way and that, paced the small room, trying to catch that same ease Kate wore. She practiced Kate’s laugh, light and musical. Then she peered at herself again in the small mirror on top of the dresser.
She looked awesome .
Maybe now Frankie would notice Maisie. He sure did notice Kate. Practically drooled.
Outside, a car horn tooted. Thirty seconds later, it tooted again. This time, a bit longer.
Pops!
He had told Maisie to be out in the jeep in ten minutes so he could get to the visitor center for a ranger meeting. She grabbed her smartphone off the bureau and checked the time. Uh-oh! That was twenty minutes ago.
Grabbing her backpack and her big, puffy, bright yellow down jacket, Maisie hurried outside, the door closing behind her with a soft click. When she hopped in the jeep, Pops said nothing about how late she’d made him. Not a word about her dazzling new appearance. By the time they arrived at the visitor center parking lot, he turned off the jeep, opened the door, and stepped out. Before he closed the door, he looked right at her with a thoughtful expression. “Sweetheart, a tulip doesn’t struggle to be different from a rose.”
Maisie shot him a side glance. What did that mean?
Pops just didn’t seem like himself this summer. Absent-minded. Distracted. There were times when he’d stare off in the distance for long stretches or fail to hear the whistle of the tea kettle. She wondered if he might be starting to have dementia. He worried Maisie. After all, Pops was in his mid-fifties, not exactly a spring chicken. Maisie knew a lot about dementia from her friend at school, whose grandmother put cereal in the refrigerator and milk in the cupboard. Odd things like that.
A little concerned, Maisie zipped up her jacket and reached for her backpack. She would have to keep a close eye on Pops for any alarming or strange behavior. She blew out a puff of air. That meant she’d have to be worrying about both her grandfather and her mother. Different worries, but all worry felt the same.
Kate sat on the stone hearth in the Jenny Lake Lodge, her camera in hand, as a midday storm rumbled outside. The lodge hadn’t officially opened for the season yet, but they had opened the large living room for visitors to enjoy. She was waiting out the rain by scrolling through her most recent photographs on her camera’s screen and felt pretty encouraged by the improvements she’d made today. After studying her mistakes, she’d adjusted her camera settings for lighting and speed, and the results were much better compositions. In one, she’d captured a majestic male moose grazing in a meadow, its velvet antlers glistening in the soft light filtering through the trees. The detail was so clear, it was as if you were right there with him. Three birds stood on the back of the moose. In her mind popped a caption for this photograph: “Waiting for appetizers.”
The lodge’s large living room was bustling with people seeking shelter from the rain, creating a cozy atmosphere, full of humming conversations, though Kate was hardly aware of them. Then she sensed someone’s eyes on her and looked up to see Coop approaching.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” He sat down next to her, a warm glint in his gray eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’ve scored a reservation for dinner at Jenny Lake Lodge tonight, with a table for two right against the windows.” He gave her a light jab with his elbow. “And you’re thinking of inviting me to join you.”
“I only wish,” Kate said, pleased he was here. She hadn’t seen him since Wednesday. “One meal here would swallow my entire budget for this trip.”
“Good thing they haven’t opened the restaurant yet. Frankie’s in the kitchen, hoping to sample their practice meals.”
She held up her camera. “Here’s why I’m smiling.” She explained how discouraged she’d been yesterday, so she studied her work, trying to identify mistakes and figure out how to correct them. She showed Coop the photographs she had taken today, then she pulled up similar photographs from a few days ago, illustrating the progress she had made.
He scooted closer to her to look at the photographs on her camera screen. His eyes widened in appreciation as he admired the wildlife shots she had captured. “I don’t think I would’ve noticed the differences unless you pointed them out. But now I can see what you’re talking about.”
“And now you can’t unsee them, right?”
He grinned. “When 399 finally comes down from her lair, you’ll be ready.”
“I like that you said ‘when’ and not ‘if,’” Kate said. He was so close to her that she noticed how good he smelled, a combination of soap and aftershave. A hint of coffee, maybe?
“You weren’t at Pilgrim Creek this morning.”
He’d noticed! But he wasn’t there yesterday. She’d noticed. Her cheeks started to grow warm.
And suddenly Tim Rivers was right in front of them. He gave a quick nod to Kate before turning to Coop. “Bear jam at Jackson Lake Dam. I was driving past the lodge and saw your parked truck. I need you and Frankie over there now.” Tim looked around the room. “Where is Frankie, anyway?”
“He went to the kitchen to ask to sample the food. I’m pretty sure they’ll kick him straight out.” Coop rose to his feet. “I guess that means I should be on my way.”
Kate stood too. “A photographer was telling me about the dam just this morning. Something about bears hanging out there.”
“That’s right,” Coop said. “Anglers discard suckers on the rocks at the base of the dam. The bears know to come snacking there.”
Kate looked up at Tim. “Do you happen to know which bear is causing the bear jam?”
“Not sure,” Tim said. “Report came in that the sow has yellow ear tags but no radio collar.”
“Sounds like 610,” Coop said.
610? Kate made a slight gasping sound. Grizzly 610 was the daughter of 399, nearly as famous as her mother. She’d read a story in which, several years ago, 610 had adopted one of 399’s triplets and successfully raised it. Really unusual, because grizzlies were solitary animals. While Kate knew not to anthropomorphize the bears, it was remarkable that the two sows had engaged in such a way as to help each other with childcare. “Maybe I’ll head over there after the rain peters out.”
Tim had a sheepish look on his face. “I was wondering if ... maybe you’d be willing to let Maisie spend a little time with you this afternoon.”
“You mean ... today?” Kate hoped her voice didn’t give away her alarm at that request.
“She’s keen on learning more about wildlife photography.” Tim cleared his throat. “And ... she seems to be quite impressed with you.”
As if on cue, Maisie appeared next to her grandfather. “Hi, Kate!”
Hold it. Kate exchanged a shocked glance with Coop, silently questioning what had happened to the girl before them.
Maisie, typically fresh-faced and youthful, now sported a heavy dose of makeup, with her curly hair pulled into a high, stubby ponytail.
Frankie strolled in and grinned when he saw Kate.
Maisie beamed. “Hi, Frankie!”
He glanced at Maisie and did a double take. “Whoa. Are you sick?”
“I feel great,” Maisie said. “Better than great.”
Frankie’s eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. “Oh, I get it! You’re going for the mini-Kate look, huh? A Kate copy!” He practically wheezed with laughter.
Kate and Coop exchanged an oh dear moment. Maisie sported a thick kohl eyeliner like she’d joined a Goth band. If that’s really how Kate looked to others, she might need to dial back her eye makeup.
Maisie flashed a scowl at Frankie before she turned to Kate. “Can I be your assistant this afternoon?”
“Good luck getting anything done.” Frankie raised one hand to make the blah-blah gesture while mimicking the call of a squawking bird.
Kate kept a poker face, but those were her thoughts exactly. Maisie never stopped talking.
Tim put his hands on Coop’s and Frankie’s shoulders. “Let’s get going.” He looked at Kate. “Thanks for keeping an eye on my granddaughter.”
What? But Kate hadn’t said she would!
“I’ll grab my backpack from Pops’s jeep real quick and be back!” Halfway to the door, Maisie spun around with excitement. “This is going to be so ... much ... fun! ” She emphasized each word with a clap of her hands.
Coop shot Kate a playful eyebrow wiggle before he turned to join Tim and Frankie at the door. At least he understood the situation Ranger Tim Rivers had just thrown at her.
Watching Coop pass by the big picture windows, it dawned on her that she would never have shown Oliver raw photos straight from her camera. Why? Oliver had a sharp eye for detail, no doubt about it. But he would’ve torn apart her shots, especially the ones she’d worked hard to improve. That would’ve left her grappling with self-doubts and insecurities, feeling like she wasn’t good enough, creative enough, bold enough, smart enough.
There was just something about Coop that put her at ease, made her feel as if she could fully be herself with him. Yet she hardly knew him. Why did she trust him so easily?
It was a question that lingered in her mind as she continued to browse through her photographs, waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for Maisie the Magpie to return.
On the drive to Jackson Lake Dam, Maisie filled Kate in on fun facts about the dam. “When Jackson Lake was made by that dam thingy, it covered up a bunch of old buildings and stuff. Pops said that there are old homesteads, cabins, and even an old ferry landing that got hidden underwater. He told me that, once, during a really bad drought year, he could even see parts of old places peeking out. Isn’t that awesome? It’s like secrets are hiding beneath the lake. Wouldn’t it be cool to go scuba diving around the lake?” Is she listening? “Kate?”
Kate startled. “Scuba diving? No, I’ve never been.”
That wasn’t exactly what Maisie was asking, but it was close enough. “Me neither. But someday I want to learn how to scuba dive. Don’t you?” Before Kate could answer, she said, “I have more fun facts about the dam.”
“There’s more?”
“Tons more.” Maisie was just about to share more of her vast knowledge when Kate said, “Look! We’re here.” And sure enough, they’d arrived at Jackson Lake Dam.
Kate took her equipment out of the trunk of her car and went to work. And boy did she work. Maisie too. Kate kept sending Maisie off on errands to find out valuable information, like to go ask Coop if the bear causing the bear jam was 610 (it wasn’t). By the time Maisie found Coop to ask, then looked for Frankie and chatted with him for a while, and then returned to Kate, the bear had wandered off. Kate was disappointed. Maisie, not so much. She was just happy to hang around Kate.
Later that day, as Maisie helped Kate carry her equipment from the parking lot to her room at Jackson Lake Lodge, she picked right up where she had left off with fun facts. These ones were about the lodge. “Four presidents have visited here.”
“Yeah? Which ones?”
Maisie ticked off her fingers. “Presidents Kennedy, Nixon, Reagan, and Clinton.”
At the top of the staircase to the upper floor lobby, Maisie stopped in her tracks. She’d been here once before with Pops, and had the same overwhelmed-awesomeness-breathtaking moment when she took in the sight of the enormous windows that framed the Grand Tetons.
Kate was heading toward the elevator.
“Kate, slow down! Come and see this.” Maisie hurried around the furniture, eager to reach the window and soak in the stunning vista.
“Gorgeous,” Kate said as they stared through the windows, captivated by the jagged silhouettes of the Teton Range. “You know what I love most? It’s unchanged. People have been looking at those mountains for centuries, and they look just the same.”
“Do you ever wonder about them?”
“Who? All those presidents you said had visited here?”
“No, no. I mean way, way back. Like, before Lewis and Clark came exploring, before the mountain men came trapping here. The tribes. The Shoshone, Crow, Blackfeet, Gros Ventre. Don’t you wonder what their lives were like? Like, did they fall in love and get married and have kids and worry about their kids like people do now?” Most people. Not Maisie’s mom, but most.
Kate turned to her with a thoughtful look. “Maisie, you have more on your mind than I did when I was your age. All I thought about was boys.”
“Oh, I think about boys a lot.” Especially Frankie. She wondered if Frankie thought about her half as much as she thought about him.
Kate laughed and picked up her camera bag. “I’ve got to get up to the room and change out of these wet boots. Better still, grab a shower. Why don’t you just wait here for me? I won’t take long. And then I’ll drop you back at the visitor center to meet up with your grandfather.”
“Can I see your room? I’ve never seen a lodge room.”
“Oh. Well, sure.” Kate tipped her head. “Let’s go.”
“First, follow me for a second.” Maisie crossed the room to the Mural Room, a fine dining restaurant that she’d never eaten in but someday she wanted to. When Kate joined her at the door, she whispered, “Just look at that.”
Kate was looking out the window. “A panorama of mountains.”
“Yeah, but I meant the mural on those two walls. They tell the story of a mountain man rendezvous.”
“A what?”
The restaurant host came to greet them. “Table for two?”
“Oh, no,” Kate said. “We were just looking at the mural.”
“Come in,” he said. “It’s quiet right now. I’ll give you a tour.” He took them to the start of the mural. “This is known as the mural of the mountain man rendezvous. The beaver fur trade lured trappers, hunters, and traders to this area in the mid-1800s. The mountain men would gather once a year to exchange furs for supplies, tobacco, liquor, and news. Davey Jackson trapped in the hole and left his legacy. Hence the name Jackson Hole.”
Kate’s gaze was on a wagon in the mural. “It looks so dangerous.”
“It was,” he said. “And lonely. Most of the men lived a solitary life.” He sighed. “The cost of greed. They were competing for the same product. Pelts.”
“So why,” Kate said, “did it end?”
“I bet I know,” Maisie said. “They killed all the beavers.”
“Actually, the Homestead Act of 1862 put an end to trapping,” the host said. “It granted land to those who promised to build on it and live there for five years. In came farmers, ranchers with big herds. That only lasted four or five years.”
“Why?” Kate spun around. “What happened?”
“A devastating winter. Nearly all of the ranchers’ herds perished, and they just gave up. And then Yellowstone became the first national park.”
“Fun fact,” Maisie said. “It was the first national park in the entire world.”
The host bobbed his head in a nod. “That’s true. The first national park in the entire world. Attracting visitors proved to be a more profitable venture than farming and ranching.” He noticed a couple at the door, waiting to be seated. “Take your time looking at the mural.” He pointed to his forehead and then to Maisie. “You are one smart kid.”
“Thanks,” she said, frowning. “But I’m not a kid!” He was already off, hurrying back to the host desk.
Kate hoisted her camera bag over her shoulder. “Maisie, I really need to get to my room. You stay. Just stay down here. I’ll change and come back down.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll come with you.” She wasn’t going to miss a chance to see a room.
Kate’s room at Jackson Lake Lodge was better than Maisie had imagined. The only hotel rooms she’d ever stayed in with her mom were bare-bone types. Like, check to see if the sheets had been changed. Kate excused herself to hop in the shower and Maisie walked all around the room, touching the curtains, noticing the mirror frames. What a life Kate lived!
Instead of being a ranger like Pops, Maisie decided she was going to be a wildlife photographer, just like Kate. Maybe she’d even get her initial experience at a zoo, like Kate did. She wouldn’t tell anybody about it, though. She’d heard those photographers make fun of Kate.
Kate’s phone buzzed a text, then another, and another. Then a phone call. She was just about to knock on the bathroom door to get Kate when the shower turned on. So, being the assistant she was to Kate, she answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Katie-Kat? Is that you?”
“Nope.”
“Who are you?”
“It depends. Who are you ?”
“I’m Oliver. Kate’s boyfriend.”
“SHUT UP! I didn’t know Kate had a boyfriend.” How could she not have told Maisie? That was front-page news!
“And just who,” Oliver said, “are you?”
“I’m Kate’s assistant. Maisie.”
There was a pause. Then, “I didn’t know Kate had an assistant.”
“See? We’re even.”
“She’s only been in Wyoming for a week.”
“Yes! I just got here too. It was meant to be. I believe in those kinds of coincidences, don’t you? My grandfather calls them miracles. What do you call them?”
“Is Kate there? I’d like to talk to her.”
The shower was still going strong, so Maisie decided to not bother Kate. “Sorry, she’s not available at the moment.” Lounging comfortably on Kate’s bed, she decided to take charge. “So, you’re the boyfriend, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s me. I’ve got something important to talk to Kate about ... so if you’ll just go get her.”
Maisie rolled over on her back. “Something important, you say? Do tell. I’m all ears.”
Oliver scoffed. “Exactly how old are you, anyway?”
“Plenty old enough to be Kate’s assistant.”
“And what exactly do you do for her?”
He seemed to have a fondness for the word exactly . That told Maisie a lot about him. Direct. To the point. Literal. She decided to respond in a way that would help him understand her role. “I carry her equipment. I hunt out opportune viewing sites for her. I’m basically her right-hand man ... except I’m a girl. I mean, a woman.”
“Has Kate found that bear yet?”
“Grizzly bear,” Maisie said.
He chuckled. “A bear is a bear.”
“Oh no, it is not. A grizzly bear is a subspecies of the brown bear.”
Oliver let out a sigh. “So did Kate get her Kodak moment with that grizzly bear?”
That sounded like the kind of rude remark that the other photographers might make to Kate. “I can’t reveal my employer’s private business.” She sat up on the bed and crossed her legs. “So, Oliver, tell me what’s so important that you need to tell Kate. I’ll relay your message to her.”
“It’s none of your business.”
True, but that didn’t stop Maisie from being curious. “If you want my help, I’ll need to know what this matter is all about.”
“What makes you think I want your help?”
“Because I have been extremely helpful to Kate this week.” Mostly, this afternoon.
“Are you any good at keeping secrets?”
“Well, I haven’t let you talk to Kate yet, have I?”
“Point taken.” He hesitated before saying, “Maybe you can be helpful. I’m planning to come to Grand Teton National Park to ask Kate to marry me.”
Maisie’s eyes widened with surprise. She sat up. “SHUT UP! No way! That’s huge ! How romantic. I love a love story.” She gasped. “I’m just the person to help you with this. I’m really good at this kind of thing. So what kind of proposal do you have in mind? How big is the ring? Are you hiring a videographer? And when is this going to happen?”
“Hold up,” Oliver said. “I haven’t worked out all the details yet.”
That wasn’t good enough for Maisie. “Oh, come on. You want to win the hand of the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. This proposal should be epic.”
“Epic, huh?” Oliver chuckled. “I just want it to be special, something to remember. I’m thinking it should happen sooner rather than later. Like, in the next few days.”
Maisie grinned. This was So. Much. Fun! “Something to remember is a very good place to start. But you need a solid plan. Is it going to be a mountaintop proposal? Or in a helicopter flying over the valley? Or how about proposing at sunset by the lake? My favorite is Jenny Lake, but Jackson Lake is a lot, lot bigger. Leigh Lake is pretty. So is String Lake, but it’s kind of tiny. That’s probably why they named it String, don’t you think? Plus, there will be people all around, getting in our video.” She gasped. “Oh, I’ve got it! A hot-air balloon proposal. Now that’s memorable!”
“Hot-air balloon, huh? That’s quite a suggestion. But you might be onto something.” Oliver sounded intrigued. “Thanks for the advice, Melissa.”
“Maisie,” she corrected, but kindly, because she felt a bond with this man. They both loved Kate. “Just remember, the more creative, the better. And make sure that ring is sparkly. Big and sparkly. Girls love bling.”
As she heard the shower turn off, she decided it would be best to end the call now. “Gotta go. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t spill the beans to Kate. Here’s my number so I can help you with plans.” She quickly dictated her phone number to him and hung up, a smug grin on her face. This was turning into the best summer of her life.
The time had come to go bow shopping. Feldmann still hadn’t been able to reroute Whisper, and Wade was getting anxious. That bear was overdue.
Normally, Wade didn’t venture out into public when he was preparing for a hunt, but he wasn’t about to let Feldmann make this purchase for him. The bow and arrows needed to be a superior quality—a high-grade armguard and handgrip as well.
Fortunately, he always brought a disguise or two along in his suitcase. For this incognito visit to the archery shop, he constructed a getup that was a mix of the mundane and the meticulous, ensuring he’d blend into the crowd. Nothing memorable, that was Wade’s MO.
Out of the suitcase he lifted a thick brownish-gray wig that was tousled in just the right way to suggest age without looking disheveled. Next came the mustache, snugly adhered above his lip and blending seamlessly with the wig’s color tone. The mustache subtly altered the contours of his face, adding years to his appearance. Practicing a slight Midwest accent, he elongated his vowels just enough to sound authentic. Completing his ensemble, he donned a nondescript button-up shirt, faded jeans, and worn-in sneakers.
Standing in front of the mirror before he left, he barely recognized himself. Wade had transformed himself into a thoroughly average-looking man on the late side of midlife—the kind you pass on the street without a second glance. This was the art of invisibility.