Chapter 18
Wes stood outside with Caleb. His friend had just taken a phone call and had stepped away.
It was just as well because Wes’s mind hadn’t fully been on their conversation.
It kept going back to the kennel. To how Rowan had looked when she’d walked out. Her back had been straight and her chin level. That envelope had been tucked against her side like she was trying to make it smaller than it was.
He couldn’t help but think that whatever was inside that envelope contained bad news.
He pulled out his phone and found Rowan’s old number. Maybe her current number. He wasn’t sure.
He typed:
Is this still your number?
A few minutes later, his phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.
It is. I never changed it.
He typed back:
I need to talk to you. Somewhere private. I know a pull-off up on Shenandoah Ridge Road—passed it on the way in. Good view. No one around.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Okay.
Relief filled him. He typed back:
I need to finish up here first. Can you be ready in two hours?
Her response came quickly:
Can Reese Witherspoon act?
He hid a smile. Classic Rowan response.
Reese Witherspoon. Rowan had loved her movies back in high school.
Wes pocketed his phone and looked toward the house.
Two hours. He’d finish what he owed Caleb, and then he’d go find out what was in that envelope.
“You with me?” Caleb asked as he returned to their conversation.
“Yeah.” Wes looked back at his notes. “Tell me about the property lines again.”
Rowan sat at the kitchen table with a mug of warm tea she wasn’t drinking and her phone face down on the surface in front of her.
The house was quiet. Naomi was with Grace, and Millie was outside tending to the chickens. The dogs were settled. The light through the windows had gone gold and long.
She’d checked the clock four times in the last twenty minutes.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Rowan looked up.
The woman who appeared in the doorway looked to be in her early thirties, with dark hair pulled back and certain wariness in her eyes.
The woman stopped when she saw Rowan, and something shifted in her expression. First, it was surprise. Then recognition. Then a visible internal debate about what to do with both.
“I’m sorry.” She took a half step back. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I can come back.”
“Please don’t.” Rowan straightened and managed a smile. “I could use the company. I’m Rowan.”
The woman hesitated, then crossed to the counter and reached for the tea kettle.
“I know who you are.” She glanced at her, an almost shy look in her gaze. “I’m Dana.”
“How long have you been a guest here, Dana?”
“Two weeks.” Dana poured her hot water into a mug and wrapped both hands around the mug, staying near the counter rather than sitting. “Coming here was an answer to prayer.”
“I’m really proud of my siblings for everything they’ve done here.”
Dana’s eyes widened. “You’re Naomi and Caleb’s sister? I had no idea.”
Rowan shrugged. “They’re really the superstars here.”
Dana glanced at her sideways, and the corner of her mouth twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile but was close. “I’ve seen all your movies. Twice, most of them. My daughter thinks you’re the most beautiful person alive. She’s not with me right now. She’s at her grandma’s house.”
“Your daughter sounds like a person of excellent taste.”
Dana laughed—a short, surprised sound, like she’d forgotten she could. Then she looked down at her mug. “You’re too funny.”
“It’s one of the more positive things that have been said about me.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed as she studied Rowan another moment. “But I have to say . . . you seem worried about something. Don’t get me wrong—it’s none of my business. But it seems like something worth mentioning.”
Rowan opened her mouth to deflect, then closed it again.
There was something about Dana’s directness—quiet and without agenda—that made the usual routine feel more exhausting than it was worth.
“I am,” she said simply.
Dana nodded, unsurprised. She was quiet a moment as she turned her mug in her hands. Then she said, “Can I tell you something? You don’t have to listen.”
“Go ahead.”
“I stayed in a bad situation for longer than I should have.” She kept her eyes on her tea. “I told myself I was being careful. That I was waiting for the right moment, the right circumstances, the right plan.” She paused. “But mostly I was just afraid.”
Silence stretched through the kitchen.
“Eventually I realized the fear wasn’t protecting me,” Dana continued. “It was just keeping me stuck.” She looked up, and her eyes met Rowan’s. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with. But you don’t strike me as someone who’s used to letting fear run things.”
Rowan held her gaze. “I’m not usually.”
“Then don’t start now.”
Someone knocked at the back door.
That had to be Wes. It was time.
She pushed back her chair and reached for her jacket. Then she stopped and looked at Dana. “I have to run. But thank you. I hope we can talk more later.”
Dana lifted her mug in a small salute and turned back toward the window. “Anytime.”