Chapter 38
The highway south of Kalispell was dry but the sky had the flat grey weight of snow that hadn’t decided to fall. Cole drove with the heater on low and Julie’s directions open on the dash mount, though he’d driven this road enough times to know every exit.
Julie had the flight tracker open on her phone. She’d had it open since they left Sapphire Bay.
He didn’t mention it.
She’d told him that morning she wasn’t nervous, and he’d accepted that the way he accepted most things she told him about herself—with the understanding that she knew her own mind better than he did, and that the truth of it would show up anyway.
It was showing up now.
She was holding the phone in two hands instead of one.
He turned off the highway and followed the signs toward the terminal.
Kalispell’s airport was modest enough that you could cross from one end to the other in under three minutes.
He’d used it a dozen times over the past year.
Parking, when you arrived early, was never the problem people said it was.
He found a space on the second row and cut the engine.
Julie was already checking the gate information.
“Meg’s on time,” she said. “Daniel’s flight shows it’s twenty-two minutes away.”
“So they’ll come through about the same time.”
“Possibly.” She looked at the terminal entrance. “Probably not.”
Cole got out of the truck and came around to her side. She was already standing with the phone tucked into her coat pocket. He didn’t offer Julie his arm. She wouldn’t appreciate it. He fell into step beside her instead, and she adjusted her stride slightly without looking at him.
They walked in through the automatic doors.
The arrivals hall was neither large nor busy.
A few people stood near the barrier. A man was holding a sign with a company name printed on it, a woman had a toddler on her hip who kept leaning sideways to look at the ceiling.
There was a small coffee counter on the left side, and Cole steered Julie toward it without asking.
“Flat white?” he asked.
Julie looked at him. “Thank you.”
He ordered two and stood to one side while they were made. From where he was standing, he could see the gate doors and most of the arrivals hall. Julie had positioned herself near the barrier, her coat open, her eyes on the door.
Cole studied her. She was composed. That was the word. She had the stillness she always had in public, the quality that made her seem at ease even when she wasn’t entirely. But her hands were in her coat pockets, and he noticed she’d checked the time on her phone twice in ninety seconds.
He picked up both coffees and went to stand beside her.
She took the cup without looking away from the door. “Thank you,” she said again.
“You said that already.”
“It bears repeating.”
Cole sipped his coffee while he looked at the arrivals gate. It was quiet. A couple came through with heavy bags and no sign of anyone meeting them. A man with a carry-on strode past with the focus of someone who’d already arranged their onward transport and wasn’t stopping.
Then the doors opened again and a woman came through who could only have been Meg.
She had Julie’s height and hair that was a vibrant shade of red.
Where Julie moved as if she’d already assessed the room and found it manageable, Meg moved as if she intended to get somewhere specific and anything in her path would simply have to move.
She had a backpack over one shoulder and a rolling case that she steered with one finger, barely looking at it.
Her eyes found her mom’s in about two seconds flat.
“Mom.” She came through the barrier and hugged Julie in the kind of way that left no room for uncertainty. Her arms around Julie’s shoulders, her chin dropping as they pulled each other close. Julie’s hand came up and pressed against her daughter’s back.
Cole stepped aside to give them room.
Meg pulled back and looked at her mother’s face, the way people did when they were checking for something they couldn’t quite name. Then she turned to Cole.
He held out his hand. “Cole Morrison.”
Meg’s grip was firm and brief, and she held his eyes for longer than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t hostile. It was something more like information-gathering.
“I’m Meg. It’s good to meet you. Mom talks about you.”
“Just the good stuff, I hope.”
Meg smiled, which changed her face completely. “Mostly.”
Julie looked at her daughter. “Only mostly?”
“I’m kidding.” Meg looked at Cole again. “She talks about you a lot, actually.”
Cole looked at Julie, who was looking at the gate doors.
“Daniel should be through soon,” she said.
He came through eleven minutes later, which was faster than anyone thought.
He had a child’s backpack over one shoulder.
It was purple, with a small bear clipped to the zip.
One hand pulled a suitcase while the other held the hand of a toddler.
Behind him, a few steps back, a woman with a dark braid and a carry-on navigated the doors.
The little girl saw Julie and pulled free of Daniel’s hand.
“Nana.” She came across the floor in the quick, slightly listing run of a child who was still finding her feet. Julie crouched and caught her, and the girl wrapped both arms around her neck. The force of it would have unsteadied someone who wasn’t prepared for it.
Julie was prepared.
Cole stayed where he was, his coffee forgotten, as Julie became someone’s mother and grandmother again.
Daniel reached them and hugged his mother while his wife held Nellie. Then he turned to Cole.
“Daniel Harrison,” he said, extending his hand.
“Cole Morrison. Good flight?”
“Long,” Daniel said. “Nellie decided the last hour was a good time to reconsider her commitment to sleeping. This is my wife, Maddie. Maddie, this is mom’s friend, Cole.”
Cole shook Maddie’s hand before she hugged Julie.
When they were finished, Maddie turned to Cole. “It’s really good to meet you. Daniel’s been full of questions about the resort.”
“I only mentioned it a couple of times,” Daniel replied.
“A lot more than a couple,” Maddie said pleasantly as she lowered a wriggling Nellie to the floor.
Cole smiled. “Ask me whatever you like. I’ll tell you what I can.”
Julie was watching all of this. He could feel it without looking at her directly. She was tracking each of them, noticing their expressions and how they acted toward each other.
Nellie had taken hold of Cole’s hand.
He wasn’t sure when that had happened.
She was tugging him gently, as if she’d decided he was going in the right direction and she was helping him along. He let her lead him a step or two, which seemed to satisfy some requirement she’d set.
Julie fell into step beside him. She looked at their joined hands—his large one and the small round grip of her granddaughter’s—and she smiled.
“You look good together,” Julie said softly.
“It’s Nellie’s cuteness that makes us look good,” he whispered back.
Daniel sighed. “You won’t say that at three o’clock in the morning when she decides it’s time to get up.”
Julie patted his arm. “You don’t have to worry about that. Nana’s here to give Nellie lots of cuddles.”
And looking at the besotted grin on Julie’s face, Cole guessed that she was hoping Nellie would be up before sunrise each morning.