Chapter 12
Alison
When she pushed open the door to Bridger Books, Ali truly felt as if she were coming home.
She loved this store, with its warren of shelves and deep, comfortable chairs and the seductive smell of ink and paper embedded
in the air.
Her grandmother had opened the bookstore sometime after she moved to Bridger Peak to help out after Ali’s mother died from
a virulent strain of pneumonia that turned septic.
Loretta hadn’t even given her grieving son or granddaughter a chance to chime in on her decision. She had simply moved in
at The Painted Sky and provided love and support, a steady buoy that kept them both from sinking into despair.
When they finally began to find their way after Sarah’s death, Loretta had looked around for something else to do. She had
worked as a manager in a bookstore in Wisconsin and had decided it was an outrage that a town the size of Bridger Peak didn’t
have a bookstore of its own, especially when it was the chosen hometown of one of the country’s most celebrated authors.
Sometimes she thought perhaps her grandmother had only opened the bookstore as a project for Ali , a distraction from the constant, unrelenting grief.
She had been a young teenager, but a passionate book lover. She and her grandmother had shared that, trading book recommendations.
Alison had helped Loretta renovate the space in the building her parents owned, where her mother had practiced law upstairs and the ground floor had been leased to a series of restaurants that never quite took off.
They had washed years of grease off the walls, had gutted the interior down to the original brick and converted the outdated
kitchen area into a small café with a half dozen tables, where book lovers could read or do homework or simply people-watch.
Throughout high school, Ali had helped stock shelves, run the children’s story hour and place orders when customers wanted
a book they didn’t have on hand.
As much as she loved The Painted Sky, with its green meadows, rolling horse pastures and view of the soaring mountains, she
had come to realize this was her happy place.
For much of her life, she had dreamed of following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming an attorney. She had pictured herself
using the same office where her mother had practiced, on the second floor above the bookshop, popping down to grab a sandwich
and a coffee and pick up the latest bestseller during her lunch hour.
Now that she was so close to realizing that dream, only one test away from being able to practice in Wyoming, she wasn’t sure
what she wanted.
After the gut punch of her father’s death over the holidays, Ali had begun to question her life plan.
She had worked so hard to become an attorney. Hours and hours of academia. She had wanted to help the poor, the struggling,
vulnerable children in need of a powerful advocate to protect their interests.
Had that all been her own dream or had it been her father’s?
He had been so proud of her, telling her often how very much she looked like her mother and how thrilled Sarah would have
been that their daughter was following in her footsteps.
How could Ali let everyone down now, when she was so close to her goal?
She pushed away the angst for another day. She wasn’t going to let anyone down. She was going to pass the bar exam and follow her dream of working here in Bridger Peak, upstairs where she could come down here to the bookstore whenever she wanted to savor the intoxicating smell of adventure in portable form.
Her grandmother was deep in an animated conversation at the counter with one of her long-time customers, JoAnn White. Knowing
the two of them, they would be at it for some time, trying to solve all the world’s problems from their quiet corner of Wyoming.
No matter. Ali didn’t want to interrupt them. After waving to them both, Ali grabbed a book off the shelf, based solely on
its appealing cover, and found a spot in one of the cozy reading nooks, with its deep armchair and perfect light.
The nook gave her a perfect view out the front bay window, where she could see all the activity on Main Street. It was raining
again and a few shoppers hurried past with colorful umbrellas while puddles reflected the lights of passing cars, and the
mountains were enshrouded with low clouds.
She loved this town, too.
When she graduated high school, she couldn’t wait to leave, to explore the world outside this Wyoming valley.
While she was grateful for the study-abroad courses she had loved in France and the trips she had taken back east to visit
her maternal grandparents, Bridger Peak always called her back.
She was engrossed in her book when Loretta finally hurried over to her.
“Oh, there you are. I wondered where you wandered off to. I should have known you would be here in your favorite nook.”
“Where else?” Ali smiled.
“Sorry about that. JoAnn just came back from Phoenix. She’s been there for months, visiting her daughter and grandchildren. Apparently, her Lucy has set up a whole tiny house for JoAnn in the backyard of her place and they had a marvel ous visit. She expects to go back every year from now on to avoid the cold.”
Wyoming winters could be brutal. Ali couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to escape those rough months.
“I’m fine,” she assured her grandmother. “I’ve been enjoying my book. I’ve been seeing it all over social media and wanted
to give it a try, anyway. I’ve only read a few pages but I’m hooked. I am going to have to buy it now.”
“Music to my bookseller ears,” Loretta said with a smile. “You know what I always say. A good first chapter is like a secret
door that opens the way to a magical world.”
She loved that she and her grandmother shared this passion for reading. Without Loretta’s love of literature and the books
she had constantly read to her son, Ali doubted her father would have become a reader himself and ultimately a writer of renown.
“What brings you this way?” Loretta asked, taking the armchair next to her with a happy sigh. “I didn’t know you were coming
into town.”
Town was only a few miles away from the ranch but sometimes felt like another world.
With slightly more than four thousand inhabitants, Bridger Peak wasn’t large but it had a grocery store, a few good restaurants,
even a decent pizzeria.
Ali had lived here her entire life, had gone to school in town from kindergarten through high school and knew many of those
four thousand residents, barring the newcomers who had moved in while she had been away at university.
“I’m supposed to be meeting Xander here in a few minutes. We’re heading next door to the café for lunch.”
Loretta’s eyes behind her glasses brightened. “Oh, that’s nice. I talked to Sylvia on the phone earlier. She said it’s been
a total joy to have that boy home. Like he never even left.”
She had to smile when she pictured Xander’s great-aunt, who had raised him.
The two older women had become dear friends after Loretta moved to Bridger Peak, quilting together once a week, serving on a few town committees together and attending the same book club, one of several Loretta had started.
“How is she feeling after her hip surgery?”
“She says she’s fine but I am not sure she’s telling the whole truth. I dropped a couple of casseroles off the other day and
Xander was so sweet to me. He sure grew up since he left town, hasn’t he? I believe he’s... What’s the word your generation
uses? A thirst trap? A snack?”
Okay, no. She didn’t want to think about Xander as a thirst trap or a snack. He was just... Xander .
“Something like that,” she mumbled.
“He used to be so quiet and shy, skinny as a rail with glasses and braces and that wild hair of his. He’s really changed.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Lucky for the women of the world, who apparently flocked to him wherever he traveled.
Before she could say more, the front door to the bookshop opened and the man in question walked through.
Immediately, her day felt lighter.
She hadn’t seen Xander in person since her father’s memorial service, she realized, as effervescent happiness bubbled through
her.
More than happiness. She felt a rush of joy at knowing they would be hanging out for at least the next hour. For some silly
reason, her throat closed up and she felt perilously close to tears.
He headed straight for them with the same bright, genuine smile that lit up his content.
“Two of my favorite people in the world, in one of my favorite places,” he said.
“Hey, you.” Ali beamed. If the bookstore was her happy place, Xander was her sanctuary.
When he opened his arms, she sank into them, her arms around his waist, all the angst and stress she had been carrying for what felt like forever evaporating like those puddles on the road would as soon as the sun came out.
Here, with Xander, everything was better .
She wanted to rest her head against his chest and stay there forever.
Xander had been her closest friend since they were kids. Well, since he came to live with his great-aunt and -uncle when they
were both in fourth grade, anyway.
He had been painfully shy, in torn jeans, thick glasses and an ultrashort haircut.
Years later, after he had come to trust her, Xander had confessed that his grandmother had to shave his head because of lice
he brought with him when his drug-addicted mother had dropped off him and his younger sister with Sylvia and her husband,
Robert, then took off.
Because Ali had been relatively popular and well liked, her teacher had asked her to befriend the new kid so he didn’t have
to sit by himself in the cafeteria.
She hadn’t wanted to, she remembered now. He had seemed so strange and awkward and in the cruel, thoughtless way of children,
she had been afraid that sense of other about him might be contagious.
But she had been a dutiful girl so they had sat together at lunch, where she discovered after some painful initial conversation
that they both were reading the same book series. As they talked about the books and their favorite characters, she had also
discovered Xander was funny and smart and kind, despite the chaos of his first nine years.
He was also fiercely loyal. He passionately defended her and his younger sister against any possible slight or insult.
Xander had been her rock during her mother’s brief illness and after her subsequent death. Whenever she was at her most low, he would text her a funny meme or video clip he had seen or a thought-provoking quote from whatever book he was currently inhaling. She didn’t always feel better but knowing he cared enough to try lifting her up invariably helped.
Sometimes they would meet up at the library to ostensibly study together, and she’d find herself simply staring into space
while fighting a flurry of emotions that felt too big for her to handle at the time.
He wouldn’t say a word, but he always seemed to know .
Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to, Ali knew she couldn’t stay here in the bookstore forever, grasping hold of him like
a lifeline. Too soon, he released her and hugged her grandmother in turn. “Loretta. Good to see you again. Twice in a week.
It must be my lucky day. You look beautiful, as always.”
Loretta snorted. “I wasn’t beautiful even when I was forty years younger. Luckily, I’m fine with that.”
She gave him an appraising look. “I would say that you haven’t changed a bit, but that would be a bald-faced lie. Ali and
I were just talking about how you don’t look at all like the shy boy with glasses and crooked teeth who used to come in here
to do his homework and read the latest science-fiction release.”
He raised an eyebrow and slanted a look at Ali. “Were you?”
To her dismay, she could feel herself blush, though she couldn’t have said why. Later, she would have to tell him how her
grandmother had described him as a snack. It would make him laugh.
“We should run. I don’t want to be away too long. Lindsey is staying with Sylvia while I’m gone, but her kids tend to run
wild. They might tear the house apart.”
His sister was three years younger than Xander, but had been married since right after high school, with two young children
and a third on the way. Ali knew that spending time with her and his niece and nephew was one of the main reasons Xander had
come back for the summer.
“I’m ready. Bye, Grandma. Can I bring you something back from the café?”
“I’m good. I packed a lunch. Thanks, though. You two have fun.”
That bubbling happiness continued fizzing through her as they walked out into the drizzle toward the restaurant next door.
The Owl used to be a run-down dive that nobody ever went to until a friend of theirs from high school had bought out the old
owners and reenergized the place.
The interior had been redesigned to focus on the tin-stamped ceiling and the original long polished wood bar that had once
been a soda fountain.
Because of its historic Old West decor as well as the delicious food and canny marketing by the owners, the Owl had become
something of a social media sensation, with people traveling from as far as Jackson to eat there, and of course photograph
themselves and their meals for the rest of the world to see.
The frenzied-looking hostess told them to find their own seats in the crowded restaurant, if they could, so they chose a booth
near the front windows.
“I can’t believe we have finally managed to find ourselves in the same space,” Xander said as they slid across from each other.
“How long has it been?”
“You came to Dad’s funeral. And you stopped briefly in Salt Lake to see me at the U that time you were doing a series on the
national parks of the Mountain West,” she reminded him.
“I forgot about that series. That must have been, what, two years ago?”
“Something like that.”
“Your dad’s memorial service wasn’t exactly the best opportunity for us to catch up.”
“No,” she agreed.
Xander had been a steady comfort to her throughout the memorial service. Simply knowing he was there, that he had flown across
the world to support her through her grief, had meant so much.
Still, she had been so busy and so consumed with her own grief to really talk to him.
“We’re here now, though. Both of us spending at least the next month in the same zip code,” he said.
“And it’s all because of your aunt Sylvia’s bad hip,” she said with a rueful smile. “Somehow it doesn’t feel quite right to
thank her.”
“Probably not.”
The server came over to take their beverage orders before Ali could say anything else.
They both looked through the menus, interrupted a few times by friends who stopped at their table to say hello.
As much as Ali had been looking forward to seeing him, she couldn’t help thinking something felt... off.
It wasn’t awkward, so much as not quite as easy as usual. They couldn’t seem to find their typical conversational rhythm,
as if they were dancers who had both forgotten the steps.
The realization left her sad, but she tried to convince herself it was only a momentary glitch in the matrix of their friendship.
She hoped it wasn’t because they were growing apart as they both grew older.
Their life experiences had certainly diverged, especially the past four years. He had earned his bachelor’s in communications
three years after high school, but had spent the intervening years traveling the world, while she was finishing up her undergraduate
and moving on to law school.
“So what happened with Giselle?” she finally asked. “Was it, um, mutual?”
Ali had dutifully subscribed, followed and liked all his videos on the channel, but she had secretly admitted to herself that
something about Giselle got under her skin.
Maybe it was the way she tended to touch Xander like she was marking her territory or the flirtatious looks she would give
the camera that Ali sensed were intended for the camera operator, not for the audience.
She tended to skip large sections of those videos and didn’t have much to say in the comment sections.
“Mostly,” he finally answered. “I still care about her, but we both decided we wanted different things out of life.”
What did she want? And what did you want? And how were they different?
In the old days, Ali would have felt completely comfortable asking him anything. For some reason, Giselle seemed a particularly
awkward topic.
She was almost relieved when a tall, gorgeous guy, who was apparently on his way out of the café, stopped in his tracks when
he caught sight of the two of them.
“Look at this!” Clint Maclean, her high school crush, gazed at the two of them. “It’s Ali and the Brainiac! Have I somehow
stepped into a time machine? Talk about old times! I feel like I should be carrying a lunch room tray with my usual burrito
and those nasty cafeteria french fries.”
Xander, she saw, looked annoyed at the interruption before he gave a polite smile.
“Clint. Hi. I didn’t realize you were in town. Last I heard, you were fighting fires up in Alaska.”
“I was. It was great money. But I’ve been back a while helping on the family ranch since my dad got sick. He died last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked exactly the same, Ali thought. Same slightly shaggy hair that looked great under a Stetson, same tight Wranglers,
same cowboy boots.
He had been the star running back on the football team and captain of the baseball team and had always treated Ali with just
enough casual flirtation to keep her hanging on, hoping he might someday ask her out.
“Why are you two back?” he asked.
“My great-aunt broke her hip and needed someone to stay with her for a few weeks while she recovers,” Xander said. “I was
between projects so it made sense.”
“And I’m here for the summer,” Ali said. “I’m studying for the bar exam.”
“Is that right? You’re staying at The Painted Sky?”
His ranch bordered her dad’s land on the other side from Beck Hunter’s. “Yes.”
“Maybe we’ll bump into each other. Oh, hey. I’m sorry about your dad. I didn’t hear about it until it was too late to go to
his memorial service.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Would there come a point in her life when thoughts of Carson didn’t hit her like an avalanche of rock and debris?
She hoped not.
“It’s so great to see you, Ali. You look amazing!”
She could feel herself flush at the admiration in his gaze. If he had once looked at her like that when they were in high
school, she would have been ecstatic.
“Scott. It’s good to see you, too.”
“Likewise,” Xander said, his voice desert dry, though she didn’t think Clint noticed.
He waved to them both and headed for the cashier up front. Ali felt silly and breathless, as if she had ridden her horse down
a steep embankment.
“He doesn’t seem to have changed much.” Xander’s voice was carefully neutral, as it always was when it came to Clint.
No, she thought as she watched him walk out of the restaurant with his lean-hipped walk that was almost a swagger. He hadn’t
changed much. He looked as good as ever.
“Looks like your summer is shaping up nicely.”
She sent Xander a sharp look. “Why? Because Clint Maclean smiled at me? Give me a break, Xan. I’m older and wiser these days.”
She was grateful he didn’t point out that she was staring at Clint’s ass.
“So what are you looking for now in a guy?”
“More than a cute smile and a wicked curveball.”
That surprised a laugh out of him and she couldn’t help thinking that when it came to cute smiles, Clint had nothing on Xander.
All those years of wearing the braces he had hated had definitely been good to him.
She knew his videos weren’t only popular because of his dreamy destinations or the beautiful women who accompanied him. Xan
emanated a sincere kind of charm that had always drawn people to him, and that came through unmistakably in his videos.
Yes, the years had been kind to him but she had always refused to let herself see Xander in a romantic light. They weren’t
that kind of friends.
More to the point, he didn’t look at her in a romantic light. Judging by his travel companions, Xander was more interested in lush, gorgeous model-types who spoke
with sexy accents and gazed at him lovingly through the camera.
To her relief, the server brought their food before he could press her about what she did want in a romantic relationship.
“How are things working out with your houseguest?” he asked after taking a bite out of his BLT.
“Fine so far.” June had been staying at the cabin for several days and seemed to be settling in.
“I stopped by to check on her before I came here to meet up with you. She’s not supposed to drive for another week so I asked
her if she wanted to come into town with me for a change of scenery. She was reading something from my dad’s library and said
she was fine. I love that she’s such a fan of his.”
He gave her a careful look. “When are you going to tell her the truth about your DNA match?”
She looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. The last thing she needed was for word to get back to Loretta before
Alison had a chance to tell her grandmother herself.
“I don’t know. You and Beckett are both pushing me on it. But like I told him, the woman just had a life-changing cardiac event. I don’t think she needs this kind of shocking news right now, while she’s still healing.”
“Is it really your place to make that decision for her?”
“Yes! I’m her sister!”
“By blood only. You didn’t even know she existed a few months ago.”
“I’m trying to build a relationship with her. I don’t want to suddenly blurt it all out and ruin everything.”
He shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing. In my experience, secrets have a way of eating you up from the inside.”
“That sounds ominous,” she teased. “What kind of deep, dark secrets do you have lurking in your psyche?”
“You have no idea.”
He said the words so solemnly, she almost did a double take. But she knew Xander almost as well as she knew herself. He was
a good guy who tried to travel responsibly and sustainably and to leave the world around him better than it was before.
Again, the conversation felt stilted and unusually awkward.
“What are your plans while you’re home?” she asked.
“I have enough work to keep me busy, editing videos I’ve already shot and making travel plans for the next year. It will be
nice to stay in one place for a while and catch my breath. Plus, I promised Sylvia I would clear out all my old stuff in my
room so she can use it for another guest room for her growing crowd of great-grandchildren and great-great-nieces and nephews.”
Sylvia and her husband had raised two children of their own, whose children were now having babies. And Xander’s sister would
soon have three of her own.
“Sounds like a fun job. Do you need help?”
“Maybe. But I know you don’t have any spare time. Won’t you be busy preparing for your big test?”
“That’s the plan.” She had missed the most recent two meetings of her online study group that had been gathering in a virtual chat room a few days a week since they all graduated from law school in the spring.
“I’m hoping Grandma also will let me return to work at the bookstore.”
“You can never stay away from a bookstore, can you?”
“Not that one, anyway.”
“I wish you could have seen this really cool café I found in Estonia where the walls are filled with shelves of books, like
a lending library. Patrons are welcome to grab one and take it home and then bring it back next time they come to the café.”
“Oh, I would love that!”
“I thought of you when I was there.”
Did he think of her often when he traveled? The question left a funny knot in her stomach, for some strange reason.
“I also would like to do some horseback riding while I’m home. You and I have been talking for years about heading up through
Outlaw Canyon to Hidden Lake.”
“We have. I’d forgotten about that.”
The canyon was deep in the Wind River mountain range, at least a four-hour horseback ride in and back out.
“We should do it this summer, while we have the chance,” she said impulsively. “When are we both going to find ourselves in
Bridger Peak at the same time? Oh, but I guess you probably can’t leave Sylvia overnight.”
“Right. She is the reason I’m home. But a trip to Outlaw Canyon could be fun. I could do a mini-break episode for the channel.”
“Or we could simply go and enjoy it.”
He laughed. “True enough.”
Had he lost any of his joy of traveling because he now explored with the purpose of documenting where he went? Somehow, she
doubted it.
“Maybe I can figure out a way to make it work. Maybe Lindsey could stay with her overnight or one of my cousins. I can check with her about specific dates to see if we can find something that works with your schedule at the bookstore and your study plans. Oh, and I’ll have to borrow a horse.”
“We have several at the ranch who could use some exercise. My dad’s horse Comet misses him.”
“Bryce and Lindsey have a couple of horses I ride whenever I’m home. I’m comfortable on both of them. I’m sure they would
be fine with me taking one.”
Anticipation and excitement curled through her. “It will be great to spend time together. Real time, not only the quick video
chat here and there. I’ve missed hanging out with you,” she said.
He opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it again.
“Same here,” he finally said, though she had the distinct impression he had been about to say something else.