Chapter 9
Rory
The house is silent.
I sit up in bed, listening for something—Nate making breakfast, Ollie’s paws padding across the kitchen floor—but there’s nothing until Spam fills the silence with a whine.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and tiptoe to the door. It creaks as I open it, but there’s no response other than Spam bolting out of the room and down the stairs. I follow him, finding no sign of Nate or Ollie, but there’s a note on the kitchen counter.
Hi Rory,
Sorry to sneak out while you were asleep. I had to go to work—I’ll be back around 7:00 tonight. Send me a text if you have any questions about where things are in the house or around town.
If you leave the house, PUT SPAM IN OLLIE’S CRATE. Seriously. And make sure it’s latched.
Nate
I set the letter back on the counter and set to work making breakfast. Cooking relaxes me, and I’m already feeling more positive a few minutes later when I slide the scrambled eggs onto the plate.
“Well, it’s just you and me today, then, huh?” I look down at Spam.
He’s staying in one spot for now, his tail wagging furiously back and forth as he eyes the cheese I’m sprinkling over my eggs.
Since I started cooking, the little dog hasn’t taken his eyes off me. Apparently, Spam is what we call “food motivated.” Same, little buddy.
I sprinkle some of the shredded cheddar on the floor for him, laughing out loud when he pounces on it.
As Spam keeps licking the floor where the cheese once was, I tap my fingers against my lips, thinking. What should I do today? Or we, if I include Spam in my plans.
I’m planning to head to the cafe in a bit to chat with Marge, but it seems mean to put Spam in the crate so early in the day. Maybe we can do something together for a bit.
I have visions of strolling through town, all relaxed and such, but I’m not sure I really know how to just do nothing. I’ve been so used to having a job—sometimes more than one at a time—that when I do have a minute to spare, I usually just need to sit down and scroll through my phone.
The thought of jobs reminds me, with a sickening swell of anxiety—a job. That’s what I need.
I should spend my time looking for a job, not messing around with the dog or sightseeing or otherwise wasting time. I brought my laptop with me for this exact purpose. I’ll spend some time on job search sites, send out a few applications. That will eat up a few hours at least.
But the whole day stretches before me, wide open as I carry my plate to the table and sit down. It’s 10:00 a.m., so that means I have… I do some quick math in my head. Nine hours until Nate comes home?
I nod as I start to schedule my day. Work on some job applications, then take Spam for a walk, then he’ll be okay to rest in the crate for a bit while I go to Lone Brews.
“Right, Spam?” I look around, but the dog has disappeared. I stand from the table, searching the kitchen. “Spam?”
Dammit. This dog is more work than I bargained for.
I have to clean up my breakfast, so I’ll give him a little while to explore. I cross my fingers that he won’t have an accident in the house.
Spam still hasn’t re-emerged when I dry the last dish and tuck it back into the cabinet. Maybe I should worry, but it’s not like he’d be able to get out of the house. He’s around here somewhere.
Anyway, there are more pressing things on my mind. I take a deep breath.
No more stalling. Time to find a job.
I dig my laptop out from the laundry basket, where I tucked it beneath some clothes when I was packing.
I sit on Nate’s couch and open it. The only available Wi-Fi network is clearly Nate’s.
He doesn’t even try to name it something vaguely funny, like Stay off my LAN or IP Freely. Just Patterson WiFi.
I choose the network and settle back against the cushion.
Enter password?
Shoot. I didn’t think to ask Nate what his Wi-Fi password was. I try a few different words, none of which work. Ollie. Nate. Patterson. HiLo. Thisisnateswifi.
I sigh. If I can’t connect to Wi-Fi, I’m not going to get this done here, at least not today. And I don’t want to bother Nate at work for this. He’s probably out tracking down a felon or something.
More likely, in this town, he’s busy rescuing a cat from a tree or something. But still.
Marge’s coffee shop has Wi-Fi—there was a sign on the counter with the network name and password, her only real nod to the fact that we’ve left the 1900s behind.
I think that’s my best bet for today. I can get some job searching done and hear all the town gossip. I’m sure that’s what’s involved in the lots I need to know.
I’d expect nothing else from Marge.
I close the laptop and set it on a side table. If I shower now, it’ll be perfect timing to have lunch at Lone Brews along with some hot coffee and hotter gossip.
One quick shower, a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt later, I’m ready to head out.
“Spam?” I call.
Silence.
I think this is the kind of silence that toddler moms talk about on Instagram. Very suspicious.
I didn’t count on this part of having a small dog. There are lots of places he can hide, and in Nate’s house, there’s an awful lot of chaos he can cause. And that’s all I need—Spam to destroy something important of Nate’s, forcing Nate to kick me out of his house with this little runt.
After searching the entire house, calling his name the entire time with no response, I finally find Spam in a corner of the kitchen, wrestling with one of Ollie’s toys. The plastic hot dog is as big as Spam’s whole body.
He makes a yip of protest as I remove the chew toy from his mouth. I ignore his whines as I carry him to Ollie’s crate, and then I close the door before he can escape.
I secure the latch while Spam glares at me, looking like I’ve betrayed him.
“I know, little guy. But it’s just for a little bit. I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m going to Lone Brews to talk to Marge. And to use the Wi-Fi.”
God, those big eyes. It’s how he got me in the first place.
In the daylight, I have a better view of the town. It’s the same charming place I remember, nestled in the high Rockies, and nostalgia overwhelms me as I make my way along the quiet street and turn onto the sidewalk that lines High Street.
I love the mountains, I always have. But it’s different up here, so close to the peaks, than it is down in Denver, where they’re more of a backdrop to a busy life, something to gaze at in the distance. Here, they’re a part of everything.
It’s humbling, in a way. All my problems seem so big, but compared to the vastness of these peaks, everything is miniscule. It puts things in perspective.
The jingle of the bells over the door announces my arrival at Lone Brews, and I take in the coffee shop all over again.
When we were here last night, just before closing, it was empty, chairs pushed in at every table.
Today there are patrons waiting in line and several tables taken up by people sipping from mugs and tapping on laptops.
“Rory!” Marge calls from behind the counter.
She leaves another barista, a kid who looks like he should be in high school right now, filling orders while she comes toward me, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist before she gives me a quick embrace.
“Great to see you. I’m glad you came back.” She looks around suspiciously. “You didn’t bring that little rat dog, did you?”
Why does everyone think he looks like a rat? Rats are tiny. He’s at least…three times that size.
“I left him at home.”
Marge gives her signature nod—one sharp movement with her chin. “I’ll get you a drink. Coffee?”
“With cream and sugar, please. Thanks.” I eye a table near the window then think better of it and sit toward the back.
There are plenty of people in town I want to see, but seeing all of them at once seems overwhelming, and that’s what would happen if I were sitting by the window.
Honestly, the people I want to see are my parents, and I want to visit my childhood home.
The idea of being back home comforts me. Being back in town is nostalgic, but even though HiLo is only a couple hours from Denver and I know the way here like the back of my hand, I haven’t been up here in years. I came home for winter break while I was in college, but I spent my summers working.
Since I heard Nate moved back to town after college, I haven’t come up here at all. It was easier to have my parents come visit Denver—more to do, and significantly less chance of running into my ex-boyfriend.
But now that I’m done letting fear dictate my life, I’m realizing it’s not that bad.
I avoided Nate for ten years, but now that I’m spending time with him, I wonder why I stayed away so long.
He doesn’t seem to harbor any ill will, and our friendship seems so natural.
I like spending time with him, more than I pictured.
“Rory?”
I look up at the woman standing by my table. She looks familiar. Maybe someone from high school? Blonde hair hanging in messy curls around her shoulders, smiling blue eyes, about my height. I take in her casual-professional dress, her to-go coffee cup in her hand as I rack my brain. Is that…
“It’s Stacey Hiller. Remember me? I haven’t seen you since high school!”
As soon as she says her name, my brain puts it together, memories flooding back.
“Oh my God! Stacey! Yes, I remember you! You look so different now.” I stand and give her a hug.
Stacey and I were in the same high school class. That, of course, means she knows Nate. But she was one of the good ones. Stacey and I spent lots of time together in class and working on projects together, but after high school, we lost touch. I lost touch with everyone but Allie, really.
“Oh, man, seeing you brings back so many memories, Rory. Remember the diorama that we had to do for our freshman English class?”
“Oh my God. Yes. We got hot glue on everything.” I giggle, remembering her mother’s face when she realized the glue on her kitchen table wasn’t coming off unless she sanded it.
Stacey snorts. “Those were the days.”