Chapter Thirteen #3
Thoughts of his late wife cutting down backcountry hillsides, her skis carving through the powder as she dared him to take a black diamond route, replayed in his head.
He closed his eyes, straining to hear echoes of her laughter as she beat him to the bottom of the run, her cheeks pink from exertion.
Warmth bloomed in his chest as he recalled the perfect end to their outings, cozied up by the fire after his brother, his mom and her boyfriend had all gone to bed.
“Mind if I join you, young man?”
Burke flinched, then opened his eyes.
A stranger with a full head of white hair, brilliant blue eyes, and ruddy cheeks stood beside the table. He held a plated cinnamon roll as big as Burke’s face and a large disposable cup of coffee.
“Uh, I… Well, I’m—”
The man pulled out the chair opposite Burke and sat down without waiting for him to stop stumbling over his words.
His broad smile split his craggy face, revealing yellowed teeth. “You look like you’re new around here. Thought maybe you could use a friend.”
Burke cleared his throat against the unexpected tightness. “Suppose I could.”
The stranger retrieved plastic ware, two sugar packets and three creamers from the chest pocket of his fleece-lined plaid shirt.
“How can you tell I’m new here?” Burke reached for his large mocha that he’d purchased from the coffee bar and took a tentative sip.
The barista had convinced him to add some white chocolate flavoring, and Darby Jane highly recommended the whipped cream and sprinkles.
He grimaced. More sugar than he was used to in his coffee, but he had to admit the sweetness was nice.
Eyeing him, the man tapped his sugar packets against his large palm. “Something kind of fancy about you.”
Burke glanced down at his red plaid shirt that he’d layered over a black turtleneck.
His jeans had that heavy, just-shoveled-a-roof consistency, and weren’t any brand that he’d ever wear back home.
“Moved here from Charleston, South Carolina, last month. Guess I don’t quite have the jeans, work boots and plaid shirt look down to a science yet. ”
He laughed, his whole body humming with amusement. “Well, good gravy, son. You’re off to a strong start.” His bushy eyebrows knit together. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Burke Solomon. And you are?”
“My friends call me Walker.” He tore the ends off the packets and dumped both into his coffee. “Oldest granddaughter runs this place, so she lets me hang around.”
Maybe that explained the giant cinnamon roll.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Walker.”
“Likewise, young man.” Walker stirred the cream in next. “You’ve got a nice computer there. Let me guess. Day trader?”
“No,” Burke said. “Novelist and single dad.”
Walker’s eyes widened. “Oh, did I take your child’s chair?”
“No, sir, you did not. My daughter, Darby Jane, is out there learning to ski.”
“Oh? Not a fan of skiing?”
“Actually, I’m very much a skier, but I broke my wrist trying to learn to ice-skate, so I’m sidelined for the time being.”
“More time to write, then.” Walker winked, then sipped his coffee.
“Indeed.” Burke silently hoped Walker’s conclusion would propel him to get up and find another table, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask, and to be honest, the guy was intriguing.
Between taking care of Darby Jane and researching what little he could find about Lois and Mac, and the Wright family’s history in the area, he wasn’t sure where to go next with his story.
But a late-night email from Stephanie giving him the green light to pursue his current story idea because his publisher wanted the full manuscript meant he needed to crank out several thousand words. Soon.
“How long have you lived here, Walker?”
“Oh, about seventy-seven years.”
“Would that be your whole life?”
Nodding, Walker cut a corner from his cinnamon roll with his knife and fork. “You betcha. Parents moved here from Minnesota as homesteaders, and I’ve never left.”
“Wow. Do you have family in the area?”
“Oh, yeah. Three kids, four grandkids, and hopefully there will be some great-grands soon.”
“That’s wonderful.” Burke smiled. “Say, did you ever know Mac and Lois Phillips?”
Walker hesitated, his loaded fork halfway to his lips. “Sure did. Knew them both. They were good people.”
“Lois is my mother’s older sister.”
“No kidding.” Walker grinned. “How about that? So how’d you get here from South Carolina?”
“That’s a long story for another day. Basically, I wanted a fresh start, and I heard their cabin was vacant.”
Something Burke couldn’t quite identify flickered in Walker’s eyes, but he just nodded and ate his cinnamon roll.
Burke mentally scrolled through his list of unanswered questions. Walker didn’t seem standoffish or guarded about Evergreen’s history. Maybe he wouldn’t mind answering a few questions. “So if you knew Lois and Mac, then you must also know the Wrights.”
Walker’s expression grew serious. “I do. I’ve been meaning to get by and see Mrs. Wright. You know she lives at the Oasis down in Anchorage.”
“Yes, her granddaughter Jovi is my neighbor. She mentioned that her grandmother had some neurological issues.”
“She’s a real firecracker, that one.” Walker shook his head and then took a sip of his coffee.
“Do you remember when they were friends? Mrs. Wright and my aunt?”
Walker swallowed and looked off in the distance.
Burke leaned closer, his fingers tightening around his mug’s handle. Please remember something. Anything.
“They’re a few years older than me, so I don’t recall all the details, but there was a time when those ladies were thick as thieves. Sadly, they let a man get between them.” Walker met Burke’s gaze again. His pale blue eyes sharpened. “Your uncle Mac destroyed that friendship.”
Whoa. Didn’t see that coming. “Can you say more?”
Walker hesitated. “The way I heard it, Lois and Carol both took a liking to Mac. He invited Carol to a dance at the community center but left with Lois. After a whirlwind courtship, they married and moved away.”
“And Carol married Dennis Wright?”
“Eventually.” Walker carved the side of his fork through the cinnamon roll.
“But before Mac was in the picture, Lois and Carol had a small candy business together for a little while. Then after Mac and Carol fell in love, the ladies couldn’t agree on who the recipes belonged to.
They had quite a spat, and as far as I know, they were never friends again. ”
“Not even when Mac and Lois moved back to Evergreen?”
“Nope.” Sadness flickered in Walker’s eyes. “Those ladies were good at two things: making candy and holding grudges.”