Chapter 16
Alison
Funny how her life seemed to have changed so much over the past seven years while she had lived away from Bridger Peak, but
some things about the town remained exactly the same as she remembered.
The day after her dinner with June, Beck and her grandmother, Ali walked up to the front door of the small brick home where
Xander had lived with his aunt and uncle from the age of ten. This place hadn’t changed. It was comfortable and neat, with
flower boxes that overflowed with early summer blossoms.
While the house itself was modest, the flower gardens were exuberant and lush, though somewhat overgrown, she noticed. Probably
not that surprising. Robert, Sylvia’s husband and Xander’s great-uncle, had been the avid gardener in the family. Most mornings
and evenings in the late spring and summer would find him out here, creating beauty out of his surroundings.
She rang the doorbell, smiling at the sign above the door that still read Love Lives Here.
She could vouch for that. She had always felt loved by Xander’s family.
When he opened the door, his eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Ali! Hey, you. This is a surprise.”
She returned his smile. “I had some free time this afternoon and I’ve been meaning to stop by and check on Sylvia. How is
she doing?”
“So far it’s been a pretty good day. I know she’s hurting, but she refuses to complain.”
She picked up the tote bag she had brought along, emblazoned with the Bridger Books logo. “I thought she might be bored so I picked up some magazines, some adult coloring books and a few books of word puzzles for her.”
“She’ll love that. You know Aunt Sylvia. She’s never been much of a TV watcher, so all this enforced inactivity is tough on
her.”
“I also picked up some sugar cookies at that new bakery in town. They’re so good. Have you tried them yet?”
She held out the lavender box that held a half dozen elaborately decorated cookies.
“I haven’t had a chance yet,” he admitted. “I’m sure Aunt Sylvia and her sweet tooth will enjoy them. Come in and you can
deliver your basket of goodies yourself. She’ll be pleased to see you.”
When she walked in, she was immediately thrust back to her childhood and the many happy hours she spent here. Sylvia and Robert
lived exactly halfway between the elementary school and the middle school/high school complex, so it was natural for her to
walk here after school to hang out with Xander and his sister until Ali’s mom was done with work at her law office and could
pick her up to take her back to the ranch.
So many happy memories. She hadn’t been here in years, but it all felt like yesterday.
“It hasn’t changed much, has it?”
He gave a rueful smile. “Not much. Sylvia says she likes it this way. Every chair is apparently broken in to her butt now.
She doesn’t see any point in wasting money on fancy new furniture and then having to make it all comfortable again.”
“She does have a point.”
How many hours had they spent studying here, rehearsing lines for the plays they had both been in together, hanging out playing
Mario Kart in the basement family room or D&D with their friends?
They found his aunt in the sunroom off the kitchen, with her leg stretched on the sofa and a book across her lap. Her features lit up. “Alison. Darling. It’s been too long.”
Ali crossed the room, set the tote bag and the cookies on the low coffee table and leaned down to hug the woman. For a moment,
she felt as if she were hugging her own mother. Sylvia and Sarah Wells had been close friends and involved in several civic
and church committees together, though Sylvia was nearly twenty years older than her mother.
“It really has been too long. What have you done to yourself?” She gestured to Sylvia’s leg.
“Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, I turned into an old lady. It sucks.”
“You’re not old. Merely well seasoned.”
Sylvia laughed. “I’m old. Simple as that. So old, all my parts are starting to wear out. Good thing they have come up with
replacement parts these days, though they will never be as good as the originals.”
“Maybe it’s because of all that hiking you’ve done over the years.”
“You could be right. If that is the case, I would have to say even a lousy hip replacement, as painful as this has been, is
a small price to pay. It’s all been worth it. I’ve seen the whole state of Wyoming, nearly every inch. And a big part of Idaho,
Montana and Utah, as well.”
“Only last summer, you hiked Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park,” Xander reminded her.
“I did. Gorgeous hike. Wish I could do it all over again, but I’m afraid my hiking days might be over.”
“I’m sure they’re not,” Ali said, taking the chair next to Sylvia. “As soon as that hip heals, you’ll be back at it.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s not the same without my dear Robert there to walk the trail with me.”
Robert had died the previous year. Ali had missed his funeral, to her deep regret, because she had been out with COVID at the time and hadn’t wanted to spread the joy to the other mourners.
“I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m happy to go hiking with you,” Xander reminded his aunt.
“I could go with you, too,” Ali offered.
“That is so sweet of you both, but you’re busy with your own lives. As you should be. This is the first time since high school
that you’ve both been in the same place at the same time, isn’t it? You should plan some outings together!”
“We’re talking about riding up to Hidden Lake,” Ali told her.
“Oh, you should. I love that place. Did I ever tell you about the time Robert and I ran into a mountain lion up there? It
was right on the trail, just staring at us. I thought for sure we were going to be cougar chow, but he only looked at us for
a minute and then sauntered away like he had no cares at all.”
“Oh, wow. I hope we avoid the mountain lions while we’re there,” she said
“Make sure you take bear spray. It’s effective for cougars as well as bobcats and bears.”
“Good to know.”
“Aunt Sylvia,” Xander said. “Ali brought you a few distractions.”
“How kind of you!”
“It’s not much. Some adult coloring books and colored pencils, some puzzle books, a few magazines. Oh, and a new book release
my grandma said is by one of your favorite authors.”
She held it out and Sylvia’s wrinkled features brightened. “I can’t wait! I’ve been wanting to get this one.”
“She also brought you some sugar cookies from the new bakery,” Xander added.
Her eyes sparkled. “Delicious! Sugar and books. You know the way to my heart. You may have noticed that I’m not very good
at sitting still. It will be lovely to have something to keep me from expiring of boredom. That is so thoughtful of you.”
She didn’t necessarily consider herself thoughtful, though her mother always had been. Sarah Wells seemed to invariably know when a neighbor or friend needed a visit or a phone call or an invitation to lunch. Her kindness and generosity had been legendary around town.
“I’m glad you don’t already have the book.”
“I can’t wait to read it.”
They sat in the sunroom chatting while the summer breeze poured through the screened windows, sweet and fresh from the climbing
roses outside.
“What have you been up to while Sylvia recovers?” Ali asked Xander.
“He’s always doing something. He’s like me in that way. He doesn’t stop unless he’s asleep,” Sylvia said with a fond smile
to the great-nephew she treated more like a son.
“I had some video editing to do, a newsletter to write and a few updates to the website,” he answered.
“How’s the room cleaning going?” Ali asked.
He sighed. “I can’t believe I kept so much crap. I still have spelling bee ribbons from sixth grade.”
“That was a big deal,” she said. “I still can’t believe you beat me. Spelling was kind of my thing, whereas you were good
at everything .”
“I can’t help that I knew how to spell delinquent and you didn’t.”
She scoffed, which only made him laugh.
“It’s hard to part with things,” Sylvia said. “I get it. I’ve been working on clearing out my bedroom of Robert’s things since
he died. It takes me a week to go through a single drawer and then I feel like I have to recover for another few weeks before
I can clear out something else.”
Xander touched her hand and his great-aunt gave him a warm, if watery, smile. It made Alison grateful all over again that Loretta had stepped in to clear out Sarah’s clothes, about six months after she died. Alison’s grandmother had made a wedding-ring quilt for her out of material taken from Sarah’s favorite clothes. It was on her bed at the ranch and she felt close to her mother every time she looked at it.
“Need a hand?” she asked. “I don’t have any other plans this evening. I could help you.”
He looked skeptical. “You’re telling me you really don’t have anything better to do than sort through books I haven’t read
and clothes I haven’t worn in a decade?”
“Sure. Why not? The two of us can get the job done in half the time.”
“Or it might take twice as long because we’ll be so distracted talking,” he said.
A valid point, she had to admit. They never seemed to run out of things to tell each other.
“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Sylvia said. “A dull task is always more enjoyable if you have someone else to talk to while
you’re doing it. When I was a girl, my dad had a cherry orchard. Every June we spent dusk to dawn picking those darn cherries.
I never minded the work because my sister, your grandma, Xan, would always join me and we would talk and laugh and eat cherries.”
Sylvia laughed now at the memory. “We ate so many during those summers and got so sick that now I can’t stand cherries unless
they’re baked in a pie.”
“That is a lovely way to eat cherries,” Ali said.
“Isn’t it? I can think of few things I enjoy more than a warm cherry pie with a dollop of vanilla bean ice cream.”
“Next time, I’ll be sure to bring you a cherry pie from the bakery.”
Sylvia made a face. “That wasn’t a hint, you know. I’m sure the cookies you brought are delicious. In fact, you should have
one now. It might give you strength to tackle the job ahead of you.”
“I got them for you, though.”
“I insist you both have one.”
“Fine,” Xander said. “We’ll share one.”
He reached into the bakery box and pulled out one of the sugar cookies. He broke it in half and gave her the bigger half,
as he always did. She sometimes thought that was a habit from a tumultuous childhood spent looking out for his younger sister.
The cookie was as delicious as it had looked, not oversweet and with a slight almond undertone. She finished hers in only
a few bites, thinking she was definitely going to have to avoid that bakery or she would gain twenty-five pounds from sugar
and butter.
Fortified now, Xander led the way to his bedroom off the family room. Walking down the stairs into the cool, dim basement
brought back a flood of memories.
They had spent so many happy hours here at that old-fashioned big-screen TV that seemed as big as a chest freezer and probably
weighed ten times or more than the current ultraflat big-screen TVs.
Besides video games, they used to love watching movies. She remembered one summer when they had binged all twentysomething
hours of Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit extended cuts and another when they had watched every single Star Wars and Marvel movie out at the time.
The furniture was the same as it had been through their childhood, a big green sectional with recliners on either end.
“Sylvia said she really only comes down here to vacuum and clean up toys after her grandkids or Lindsey’s kids have been over
to play.”
“I hope she never changes it. It’s retro cool now.”
He led the way into his bedroom and memories again jostled through her mind.
“Oh, my word. Talk about a time machine.”
“It’s not that bad. I’ve taken down all my jazz and soccer posters.”
She gestured to the mess on the floor. “How can I help? Do you have a system going here?”
“The usual. Save, recycle, toss.” He pointed to three boxes lined up in front of the mirrored closet doors.
She saw his reflection in the mirror and thought again how kind the years had been to him.
She had always thought Xander was a cutie, even back in the day when he was skinny and shy and had braces. Try as she might,
she hadn’t been able to get any of her friends to see it.
Now they did.
She knew from reading the comments on his social media that Xander had a big following among women, including several she
knew personally from here in town who had completely ignored him in high school.
She loved seeing it. Good for Xander. It was about time the rest of the world saw what she always had.
“You really don’t have to help me,” he said.
“Too late. I’m here. I hope you’ve already taken out all your porno magazines.”
“Ha. I never had any porno magazines. I used the internet, like every other guy.”
She had no idea what to say to that and could feel herself flush, though she had been the one who started it.
He seemed suddenly embarrassed, too. “I would be happy with your company, but I guess if you insist on helping, you could
start sorting through the clothes. I’ve already gone through everything and set aside the few things that still fit and that
I want to keep. You can pull the others off the hangers and throw them in a bag for Goodwill.”
“Got it.”
The clothes were old and out of date and would never fit him now that he was more muscled these days than the skinny kid he had been, but she still remembered with fondness seeing him in some of them. The suit he had worn on a date with Amber Lake to the sweethearts dance their senior year. His favorite hoodie with a print of Louis Armstrong on it, cheeks puffed as he blew his horn. The parka he had worn when she tried to teach him how to cross-country ski.
In short order, she had loaded up two large garbage bags of clothes.
“Wow. I didn’t think I had that many clothes,” Xander said as he saw her cram the last item from the closet into the second
bag.
“Who knew you were such a fashionista?” she teased.
“Yet, I still consistently wore my three or four favorite T-shirts and ignored everything else. I’ve got several boxes here
in the donate pile. I should probably start taking more things out to Uncle Robert’s pickup truck in the garage, where I’ve
been storing all the other stuff I’m donating.”
“Okay. I’ll start on your drawers, if you want.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve already thrown away all my old underwear,” he said, making her laugh.
“Whew,” she said in exaggerated relief.
“Leave the stuff in the top drawer. Those are things I’m keeping.”
After he left, carrying the heavy bag of clothing with one hand and a couple of boxes with the other, she went to his chest
of drawers and started pulling out old pajamas and jeans.
She was curious about what he might have in the top drawer and opened it to find several of those favorite T-shirts he had
talked about. She was looking through them, walking down memory lane, when her hands closed on something that didn’t feel
like clothing. It was a book of some kind, tucked in the bottom of the pile of shirts.
She pulled it out and discovered it wasn’t a book, it was a compact photo album, made to fit four-by-six prints.
Xander had been the photo editor at both the student newspaper and the yearbook and could always be found around school with his camera. She smiled a little, thinking that he hadn’t changed much in that regard, only now his videos and photos were seen on a much bigger stage.
She wondered what photos he had cherished so much that he kept an album of them in his dresser drawer. Curious, she turned
the page and was astonished to find her own younger face looking back at her, in profile, turned away from the camera.
She turned the second page and found two more pictures of her, one where she was dancing with the guy who had taken her to
the junior prom, another where she was sitting on the bleachers at the football field, wrapped in a blanket against the chilly
Wyoming autumn evening, her features animated as she cheered something happening in the game.
She turned the page and found more photographs of herself, some at school, some in the mountains where they used to hike,
some here in his family room.
A few she had vague memories of posing for, with goofy expressions or exaggerated smoldering model poses like Ben Stiller
in Zoolander .
Others looked like candid photographs, shot when she was unaware he was even taking her picture.
Why had he printed these? She could see him keeping a folder on his phone, maybe, an album to help remember the fun they used
to have. Photos that he could look through when he was feeling nostalgic for the good old days. She had an album of him and
her other friends from home on her own phone, and looking at it invariably cheered her up when she was having a bad day.
But Xander had gone to the trouble to print these photos of her and to put them in a photo album. Who even did that anymore?
And why had he then tucked it away here in his drawer?
She stared at it, her mind whirling. She suddenly heard his footsteps coming down the stairs and froze, not sure what to do. In the end, she quickly tucked the photo album back where she had found it and piled a couple of old shirts on top of it, closing the drawer as he came back in.
“I’m running out of room in the pickup. I might have to make a run to the thrift store tomorrow,” he said.
“That should be fun.” Her smile felt stiff and unnatural and she tried to relax her mouth a little.
He gave her a careful look. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, entirely too nonchalantly.
“Are you sure? You look... strange.”
You have twenty pictures of me in a photo album tucked in a drawer.
“Thanks,” she managed to say dryly. “Sorry I’m not one of your exotic girlfriends from your YouTube videos, with their barely
there bikinis and their tans that go on for days.”
“I didn’t mean you look strange strange. Only that you seem... distracted or something.”
“Totally fine here,” she lied. “Only wondering why it’s taken you so long to throw all this away.”
And why do you have so many pictures of me?
“I guess I just never got around to it. My visits home were always brief, and I didn’t want to waste my time with my family
clearing out my bedroom. Sylvia and Lindsey offered several times to do it for me, but I didn’t want them to have to deal
with my mess. You don’t have to, either.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “We’re almost done. Only the bookshelves and your dresser drawers to go.”
She tried not to focus too much on that photo album as she finished going through the other drawers. Instead, they chatted
about the trip they were planning into the mountains, about items they boxed up that brought back specific memories, about
upcoming plans.
“If you’re not taking Giselle with you, will one of the other supermodels go?”
He frowned. “I don’t know any supermodels.”
“I mean the hordes of gorgeous women you feature on your travel videos.”
“They aren’t supermodels. And there aren’t that many. For the record, I’ve only had three women travel with me over the past four years and I was only dating one of them. Giselle. The other two were only good friends.”
“Really?” she asked, skeptical.
“Really. One of them, Liza, is gay and deeply in love with her partner, who doesn’t like to travel, and the other one, Claire,
is the fiancée of my video editor.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And he didn’t mind you traveling with his bride-to-be?”
“No. Because he went on that trip to India, too. My pal Marcos. He preferred to be behind the camera, not in front.”
She thought of how much she had resented those lovely women when she would watch those uploads, a sensation that surprised
her as much then as it did now, in retrospect.
She wanted to ask him again about the photo album, but somehow she was afraid that if she brought it up, she would change
the dynamics of their relationship forever.
She cared about Xander too much to risk anything that might damage their friendship. Instead, she remained quiet and pretended
she hadn’t seen it as they finished cleaning out his room, though she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to discard the memory
nearly as easily as he discarded his old things.