Chapter 3
Two iced coffees sat between them on the table, sweating rings onto the wood.
Fiona Spence hadn't touched hers. She was too busy talking.
Her hands moved when she talked, always had, and right now they were painting the air with plans that sounded bigger than anything their little corner of the Adirondacks usually produced.
"They said the next shoot is a test run," Fiona said, leaning forward. "If it goes well, they book you for their catalog and that's where the real money is. We're talking five hundred a day, Ruby. For standing in front of a camera."
"Standing in front of a camera in what?" Ruby asked.
"Clothes. Regular clothes. It's not like that."
“Uh, huh. Are you sure?”
Fiona narrowed her eyes at her.
The Daily Grind was half full for a Thursday afternoon, which was busy by its standards.
The place had started life as a coffee bar years ago and had slowly evolved into something closer to a diner, adding a lunch menu, then dinner, then homemade baked goods that the owner's mother made fresh every morning and delivered in Tupperware containers stacked on the back seat of her Buick.
The charm was old-school and genuine. Mismatched furniture.
A chalkboard menu with handwriting that changed depending on who was working.
A girl in an apron came by and set a plate of lemon bars on the table between them. "On the house," she said. "Last batch before close."
"Lacey, you're going to make me fat," Fiona said.
"You're welcome." Lacey Montgomery was seventeen, still in high school, and worked the after-school shift three days a week.
She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pen tucked behind her ear that she probably didn't need but liked the look of.
She glanced at Fiona. "What are you so excited about? "
"Modeling," Ruby said.
Lacey raised her eyebrows. "Seriously?"
"Don't encourage her," Ruby said.
Lacey grinned and headed back to the counter, dodging a chair that someone had left pulled out too far.
Ruby stirred her coffee with a straw and listened.
She was happy for Fiona. She was. But there was something about the whole setup that nagged at her in a way she couldn't quite name.
A modeling agency operating out of a small office in the Adirondacks, recruiting girls from towns where the biggest employer was a ski resort or a hardware store.
It felt like an opportunity that sounded too clean.
"Who is the photographer?" Ruby asked.
Fiona stirred her drink. "Garrett Finch. I was referred to him by Strutz Agency."
"Just be careful," Ruby said. "That industry chews people up."
"I know. I'm not stupid." Fiona pulled her coffee closer and finally took a sip. "I figure it's good money while I'm doing college. I'm not trying to make a career out of it. A few shoots, put some away, and I won't have to work doubles at the lodge all winter."
"Smart."
"The hardest part is going to be telling Ethan."
Ruby set her straw down. "I thought you broke it off with him."
"I couldn't do it." Fiona looked out the window at the street. "Not with him already struggling about Mia heading off to Plattsburgh. He's taking it hard. I didn't want to pile on."
"You're going to have to tell him soon. Call him."
"I can't. He's out with his dad hiking. Some overnight camping thing up on Cascade."
Ruby studied her friend. Fiona was eighteen, same as her, but she carried things differently. Ruby tended to hold everything at arm's length and examine it before she let it get close. Fiona dove in. It was part of what made her fun and part of what made Ruby worry.
"Just promise me you'll be smart about it," Ruby said.
Fiona smiled. "I'm always smart."
"You're never smart. That's why you have me."
They both laughed, and for a moment it felt like nothing was about to change.
The Cascade Mountain trailhead was quiet when they got back to the parking lot.
Noah dropped his pack next to the Ford Bronco's rear gate and stretched his back, feeling every one of the miles they'd covered over the past two days.
His knees had opinions about the descent that they hadn't had about the climb, and his shoulders carried the memory of a pack that had been too heavy because he'd let Ethan talk him into bringing a cast-iron skillet for the campfire.
Ethan tossed his own pack into the truck bed and leaned against the tailgate, looking tired but looser than he had in weeks.
That was the whole point. Two nights on the mountain, no cell service, no distractions, just the two of them and long silences that eventually turned into real conversations if you gave them enough room.
They'd talked about Mia leaving. About what the house would feel like with her gone.
About whether Ethan wanted to look into trade programs or community college or just work for a while and figure it out.
Noah hadn't pushed. He'd listened, asked a few questions, and let the fire do most of the work.
Campfires were better therapists than most people gave them credit for.
"You stink," Ethan said, pulling his boots off and tossing them into the truck.
"You're not exactly a bouquet."
"At least I didn't fall in the creek."
"I didn't fall. I stepped wrong."
"You fell."
Noah opened the back and arranged the packs so they wouldn't slide. "Is Fiona going to be at the party tonight?"
Ethan paused, one hand on the tailgate. "I don't know."
"I figured you would, you only mentioned her about forty times in the last two days."
The tips of Ethan's ears went red, which on a seventeen-year-old boy was as good as a confession. "She can't make it. She has some modeling shoot tonight."
"Modeling?" Noah closed the tailgate and looked at his son. "She must be a looker."
That got a grin out of him. "More than you know."
"Well, I hope I get to meet her soon. I'd like to see who this girl is."
Ethan hesitated then pulled out his phone, scrolled for a second, and turned the screen toward Noah. "Here. This is us a week ago."
Noah leaned over. The photo showed Ethan and a girl sitting on a bench somewhere, trees behind them, sunlight catching them both at the same angle.
She was pretty. Dark hair, wide smile, a face caught mid-laugh when the photo was taken.
Ethan had his arm around her and was grinning in a way Noah hadn't seen in a while.
"Nice pic," Noah said. Then he noticed something in the photo. Both of them were wearing chains around their necks, each with a small pendant. "What's the deal with the necklaces?"
Ethan reached into his shirt and pulled his out, holding it up for Noah to see. A thin silver chain with a pendant shaped like half a comma, a colored stone set into the center. Deep red.
"I got us matching ones. His and hers birthstone necklaces.
See, each half is like a comma but when you put them together they make a heart.
Mine has a garnet, that's January. Fiona's has a peridot, that's August. Hers is this light green color.
" He tucked it back under his shirt. "There's twelve birthstones, one for each month.
Each one's a different color. Amethyst for February, aquamarine for March, emerald for May. It's a whole thing."
Noah looked at his son. The pride in his voice when he talked about the necklace, the care he'd put into choosing it. The small, deliberate act of a young man who wanted to give someone something that meant more than what it cost.
"That's a nice gesture, Ethan."
Ethan shrugged, but he was still smiling when he put the phone away.
They climbed in and Noah reached for the ignition but didn't turn it. He sat there for a second, looking through the windshield at the lot, the trees, the mountains behind them still bright with afternoon sun.
"Look," he said. "I know tonight isn't going to be easy for you. The party. Mia leaving. But I want her to know we support her. I don't want her going away in September thinking that anyone in this family isn't behind her."
Ethan looked at his hands. "I get it, Dad. I'm not going to drag her down."
Noah reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you won't. I've enjoyed our time together. These last two days meant a lot to me."
Ethan nodded but didn't say anything, which was its own kind of answer. Noah started the engine and they pulled out of the lot, heading south on Route 73 toward home.
Ed Baxter's backyard smelled like charcoal and hickory smoke and a brand of lighter fluid that Ed had been using since Noah moved in next door, despite being told at least a dozen times that it made everything taste like a gas station.
Ed didn't care. Ed had opinions about grilling that he'd formed sometime around 1985 and he wasn't interested in updating them.
Noah stood near the fence with a beer and watched Mia across the yard.
She was sitting on the porch steps with Ethan and Natalie, laughing at something on Natalie's phone, her hair pulled back and her face open in a way that reminded him so much of her mother it physically hurt sometimes.
She was ready to go. He could see it in the way she talked about Plattsburgh, the way she'd already started referring to this house as "back home" instead of just "home.
" She had one foot out the door and the other was barely touching the ground.
Ed appeared beside him holding a spatula and a beer of his own. He followed Noah's gaze to the porch.
"I see things are getting serious with you and the Ashford woman," Ed said.
"Natalie."
"Right. I forget her first name. It's overshadowed by her father."
"Don't remind me," Noah said, letting his shoulders ease. "But yeah. We've been spending more time together."
"Time? She practically lives with you."
Noah caught Natalie's eye across the yard and she smiled, then turned back to Mia. He took a sip of his beer.
"Anyway," Ed said, flipping a steak on the grill. Fat sizzled and smoke curled up around his wrist. "How are things coming along with looking into nailing that son of a bitch? And what does his daughter think about it?"
"She doesn't know. I figure it's best that way.
I'm still meeting with O'Connell." Noah glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.
"Let's just say that Ashford is a slippery bastard.
He's in the habit of dotting his i's and crossing his t's.
But I'm sure it's a matter of time." He stepped in closer to the grill.
"Here, let me take over before you cremate those. "
Ed surrendered the spatula but not the conversation. "Time. Right. And you've had more of that lately. How did you convince work to give you so much leave? Did you tell them Nat has a bun in the oven?"
Noah laughed. "Don't you go saying that to her. Or putting thoughts in her head."
"Well, I hope you're taking precautions. Can you imagine if she got pregnant? Your two families would align. Now that would be tricky."
It had crossed Noah's mind. More than once.
"No, it's mental health leave," he said, turning a steak.
"Ah. The job getting to you?"
"It's Ethan."
Ed raised an eyebrow. "Ethan?"
"He worries me. He's drifting. Mia leaving is hitting him harder than he lets on." Noah adjusted the coals with the edge of the spatula. "I figured I could kill two birds with one stone. Take a mental health break for a few months, spend real time with him, and..."
"And look into Ashford," Ed said, grinning.
"If I'm at work they've got me doing all manner of hours. I can't stay on top of that and keep digging into his activities at the casino."
"You really think Ashford is colluding with the cartel?"
"I think it's bigger than we once thought. I think even Ashford isn't at the top of the chain."
Ed was quiet for a moment, watching the smoke rise.
Then he shook his head. "Let me give you a piece of advice from an old man who spent thirty years watching people try to fix things that were broken beyond repair.
Sometimes the law can't touch a man like Ashford.
Sometimes you have to accept that and move on before it eats you alive. "
Noah didn't look at him. He turned another steak, pressed it with the spatula, watched the juice run.
"And sometimes if you move on, people get hurt," he said. "People who don't deserve it. People who trusted someone to do something about it."
"Noah."
"I've seen what happens when you let go, Ed. I've been on the other end of those calls. I've knocked on the doors. I've sat in the living rooms." He set the spatula down on the edge of the grill. "I can't be the guy who looks the other way."
Ed studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. The argument was over but Ed's expression said he still wasn't wrong.
"Just make sure the cost doesn't come out of your kids," Ed said quietly.
Before Noah could answer, Natalie appeared at his side and slipped her hand through his arm. "Hey. She's going to open gifts. Ready to join us?"
"Sure thing."
Noah let her lead him across the yard to where Mia was sitting in a lawn chair surrounded by wrapped boxes, Ethan beside her with his arms crossed but a small smile on his face that Noah was grateful to see.
The afternoon sun was low enough to throw long shadows across the grass.
Out on the lake a fishing boat drifted past the dock, its motor cutting softly through the still water.
He looked at his daughter, about to open gifts for a life she was building somewhere else, and his son, trying to hold together a life that was changing whether he wanted it to or not, and he thought about what Ed had said.
Let go. Move on.
He couldn't.