Chapter 6
It wasn’t hard to tell Zoe was furious with her. Kara could feel her sister’s eyes boring into the back of her head.
Before she revealed anything, Kara needed to know exactly how much Elias already knew.
She joined Isaac, who was already waiting in the rental. The sun had set without Kara registering the time passing.
“You okay? You look troubled,” Isaac said.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, though her mind felt fractured, pulled in too many directions at once.
Soft morning light spilled through the curtains as Kara lounged at the breakfast nook, sipping coffee. The breeze from the mountains drifted through the open window. Her peace was broken by the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen: Mom.
She tapped the answer call icon with a strange mix of hope and dread. “Hey, Cecelia,” Kara forced a brightness into her voice that she didn’t feel.
“Hi Kara! Where’s Zach? I wanted to call and tell you guys about this venue.
I’m here for lunch with Rachel. You know my friend, Rachel.
She’s just scrolling through photos of the garden terrace.
It’s absolutely amazing. Really, it’s just perfect.
Can we maybe meet for lunch soon to talk about it? You know we have to book a place soon.”
There was a beat of silence on the line.
“Sorry, I’m actually back home for now. Back in- well, honestly, I don’t even know what to call this place anymore. I’m not sure if Isaac told you that my father passed away. I’ve got a few things to deal with here. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Oh,” she said. “That's unfortunate, dear. Be sure to have Zach call me, dear.”
Click.
Just like that. She hung up. No questions. No condolences beyond the pre-programmed phrase. No “How are you doing?” or “What can we do?”
Kara stared at the phone, blinking as if it might change something. Mother-in-Law of the Year. The bathroom door creaked open behind her. Isaac emerged, towel-drying his hair.
“Who was that?” he asked casually.
“Your mom,” she replied, her voice brittle. “She found a possible venue for the reception. I told her about George, and she seemed more disappointed that I wouldn’t be joining her for lunch than the fact that my father died.”
Isaac shrugged. The same dismissive shrug she’d seen too many times in too many conversations. He didn’t even look at her. Just kept drying his hair, as if all of this was an optional subplot he’d decided to skim.
Kara knew his family had never been warm, and not all that expressive, but Isaac's indifference sometimes stung. The realization hit her with painful clarity. Kara knew she was vulnerable right now, but she refused to let that vulnerability make her decisions for her.
Maybe it wasn’t just the phone call that left her feeling hollow. It was the growing awareness that she was grieving—adrift in a space where empathy had no foothold.
Kara needed a distraction, so she decided to show Isaac around town. And if she was lucky, she’d uncover where Elias was.
It felt almost surreal to play tour guide in a place she had spent so many years trying to forget.
The streets were haunted with memories she hadn’t invited, but maybe if she walked them with him, she could rewrite a few of them.
To show him the diner where she pulled double shifts, the gas station where she used to count tips in the back room, the overlook where she used to sit and dream of better days.
Maybe if she shared the pieces, they wouldn’t weigh so much.
It didn't take much to convince him to take a drive to Main Street. He had always wanted to see where she grew up. It was the least she could do after her rambling about Pine Ridge all through their years together.
Her phone lit up with her assistant’s name. Jenna. Kara answered without thinking.
“Quick question,” her assistant said, efficient as always. “Do you want the updated reports sent to your email or held until you’re back?”
“Email,” Kara said automatically.
“Got it. Also, the client called twice. He was very impatient.”
“That’s not new,” Kara muttered.
Jenna gave a small, knowing huff. “Fair. I told him you’d follow up soon.”
“Thanks.”
There was a brief pause before her assistant spoke again, softer this time. “Is everything okay over there?”
Kara didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Alright,” her assistant said, though it sounded like she didn’t fully believe it. “Let me know if you need anything.”
The call ended, leaving Kara in the same silence—but now it felt heavier; pretending everything was fine took more effort than she expected.
The two of them wandered down the town’s main street, Kara pointing out familiar buildings as they went.
“That used to be a bakery,” she said, gesturing toward a small storefront with faded lettering across the window. “Best cinnamon rolls in town. Mrs. Reyes made them every Saturday morning.”
Isaac glanced at the empty shop. “What happened?”
“She retired years ago. Apparently, baking for an entire town gets exhausting after thirty years.”
He laughed, and Kara smiled, already pointing toward the next building.
“That was the old movie theater. It had the worst seats imaginable, but everyone went there anyway. Zoe and I used to sneak in through the side door when we didn't have the cash.”
“You two were trouble!”
“Zoe was the trouble. I was simply there for moral support.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow. “I'm sure that's how she remembers it.”
Kara laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in the past few days.
She told him about the diner where half the town gathered every morning, the little hardware store where George had once spent an entire afternoon arguing with the owner over the price of a rake, and the park where she and Zoe had spent summers until their mother called them home for dinner.
With every story, the town seemed to come alive again.
Isaac listened, occasionally teasing her or asking questions, and Kara found herself enjoying the sound of his laughter beside her. For the first time since arriving in Montana, her thoughts weren't consumed by the funeral, George, or everything she still didn't understand.
And perhaps that was exactly what she needed.
A distraction.
Though part of her remained alert. If Elias really did have an ulterior motive, spending more time around town might allow her to figure out what he was hiding.
The Moonlit Diner was like stepping back in time—right down to the heavy scent of bacon grease and coffee that had been sitting on the burner too long.
There was a faint sweetness in the air, too—boiled peanuts in Coke.
The vinyl booths were split, the jukebox still busted, and someone in the back was probably burning toast. It was perfect.
Behind the counter, Timothy, the diner's long-time manager, looked older, thinner around the hairline, thicker around the waist, but it was unmistakably him. She’d barely stepped inside when his eyes landed on her.
He choked mid-sip and splashed coffee across his shirt. “As I live and breathe,” he croaked, just as Colin did, his eyes wide. “Kara Nicholls.”
Before she could react, he was around the counter in three quick strides. “Still as beautiful as I remember.” And then he hugged her—enveloped her, really.
The hug lingered just a little too long, but that was Timmy. He’d doted on her during every shift, waited with her to lock up when it was her turn to close if Colin couldn't, and he always gave her a big fat bonus during the seasons when the business boomed.
He never crossed the line, at least not overtly so, but he wore his affection like a badge of honor.
She knew it had broken his heart when she left without a word.
“Hi, Timmy,” she said, voice soft with nostalgia. She shifted slightly toward Isaac, feeling the shift in his body as Timothy looked him over.
His face was unreadable—stone-still, cool. Was that just shock or irritation?
“This is my fiancé, Isaac,” she said quickly. “Isaac, this is Timmy, the best manager this place or anyone has ever had.”
Timmy grinned, still wiping his hands on a towel. “Lucky guy.”
“He knows.”
The words came out instinctively, but saying them in front of both of them felt like she was trying to prove something.
“What brings you in?” Timmy asked, wiping his hands on a towel.
His voice softened. “And I’m sorry about your dad. I know you weren’t close, but a loss is still a loss.”
He gestured toward the booths lining the windows. “Pick anywhere you like.”
She slid into the nearby booth, then Isaac next to her. The plastic seat squeaked beneath him.
“You’ve got to try the burgers here,” she said, glancing at the menu. “They were to die for.”
Timmy chuckled. “Menu’s different, sweetheart.”
Her mouth dropped open. “No.”
“New owner,” he said with a shrug.
She gasped dramatically. “You’re kidding.”
Kara remembered Zoe saying he’d taken over the diner. Changing the menu, though, that was sacrilege.
One of the kitchen staff rang the food bell, "Order thirty up! “ indicating an order was ready. He handed them laminated menus with an apologetic grin. “Pick anything. I’ll be right back.”
As Timothy disappeared behind the counter, Isaac leaned forward, his voice low. “Quite the reunion.”
Kara glanced at him, trying to read the tone beneath his words.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she flipped open the menu. And just like that, between the smell of grease, Timmy’s lingering cologne, and Isaac’s unreadable expression, it felt like all the versions of her past, along with the present, were sitting right there at the table.
The same worn linoleum floors stretched out beneath them, dull and curling in the corners. The outdated leather knock-off booth seats still groaned when you sat down, their stuffing lumpy and uneven like time itself had been trapped in the vinyl.
“Everything’s the same,” she muttered. Another thing she noticed after a quick scan—there was no waitress. The floor was empty, only a couple at another booth and a lone man at the counter.
“Where’s the waitress?” Isaac asked, seemingly reading her mind.
She tilted her head toward him, half-smiling. He really was a good man.
How could she even spend a moment thinking of Colin?
“Probably quit,” Kara said, eyes flicking back to the counter. “Or ran off screaming after another Sunday shift with these people.”
He chuckled. “Small-town drama runs deeper than New York subway tunnels.”
“And twice as dirty.”
The bell above the door jingled then, and a woman in an apron rushed out from the back, breathless and flushed.
“Sorry! Stove’s acting up again. Be right with y’all!”
Kara leaned in, voice low. “Still feels like a place time forgot.”
Isaac reached for her hand beneath the table. “We’ll forget it too. Soon enough.”
But Kara wasn’t so sure. Some places didn’t let you forget.
The man at the counter seemed to notice Kara. He held her gaze for a moment before abruptly getting up and leaving.
She ignored it,
The gap between placing their order and the waitress arriving with their food was brief, with only the other couple left.
They polished off their meals even faster.
Kara wiped the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin, the last bite of honey-butter cornbread still sweet on her tongue.
Isaac leaned back with a satisfied groan, stretching one arm across the back of the booth.
“That might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he said, patting his stomach. “I owe Timothy a thank you for those ribs.”
She smiled, glancing toward the kitchen. “He’s a magician back there, though he pretends to be an administrator.”
Timmy emerged just then, beaming like a proud uncle. “You two take care now,” he said. “And Kara, please don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t,” she said softly, her voice catching just a little.
When Isaac reached for his wallet, Timmy held up a hand. “Welcome back,” he said.
Kara urged Isaac to tip generously. She remembered her time at Moonlit, grateful for patrons who shared what they had.
Outside, the evening air had cooled. A breeze tugged gently at the hem of her dress as they crossed the parking lot. The horizon burned orange and pink before the colors began to fade. And the mountains loomed steady in the distance.
Isaac reached for her hand.
“Feeling okay?”
She nodded, but her gaze drifted toward the horizon.
“Yeah, just really full.”
He chuckled. “Let’s walk it off.”
Just as they walked away, the breeze grew colder, sharper. Kara felt herself slipping. A sharp ache spread through her head, and the ground seemed to shift beneath her. Kara’s balance faltered, Isaac arms came out to steady her. For a moment, she couldn’t tell where she was—or when she was.