Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Emma climbed the steep wooden steps, clutching her white plastic basket filled with a small load of clean laundry.
Scuffed floors creaked under her sneakers as she passed the old bronze-plated sconces draped in cobwebs.
She gave the peeling floral wallpaper her usual grimace.
The charm of the place had worn off somewhere around month three of paying way too much rent for too little space.
Brittney, who rented the room across the hall and worked at the same health club, trailed behind. “Are you sure you don’t want to think about this? Maybe at least until Monday?”
Emma stopped in front of her bedroom door on the third floor.
The hinges groaned as the door gave way.
She slipped inside, her breath leaving visible puffs in the air as the cold hit her.
She shivered and rubbed her hands together.
Under the broad windows overlooking their South End neighborhood, her temperamental radiator knocked as if it were scolding her for expecting it to do its job.
“I’m already packed,” she said over her shoulder. “Except for my favorite pajamas.”
Emma set the basket on the floor, pulled the pajamas out, then rolled them up and tucked them into her suitcase.
Stifling a yawn, Brittney stopped in the doorway. Her platinum blonde hair was twisted into a messy bun, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt with leggings tucked into fuzzy socks. “That doesn’t mean you have to go.”
Emma nudged the basket across the floor and left it at the end of the narrow twin bed. She didn’t have time to put the rest away. Besides, the towels could wait until she got back. “Britt, I bought the tickets. Cashed in my vacation to take time off at the club. This is happening.”
Brittney folded her arms, concern tugging at the corners of her mouth. She skimmed the toe of her sock across the worn floorboards. “You told me once that you’d never go back to Redemption. You said the people there despised you.”
Emma crossed to the bay window and adjusted the curtains to half open. Gray early morning light spilled in, catching the dust floating in the air. “Maybe they still do, but this isn’t about them.”
“Then what’s it about? Because to me it looks like you’re about to walk into a hornets’ nest out of some weird sense of duty to a man who—no offense—destroyed your life.”
Emma turned to face her. “He didn’t destroy my life. He made awful choices, yes, but he’s still my dad.”
Brittney’s pencil-thin brows scrunched together. “You haven’t seen him in, what, fifteen years?”
“Eighteen, and I regret that. I was an angry, scared fifteen-year-old. And I had no choice but to let my mom drag me here and start over. I thought staying away would make it easier to forget, but it didn’t.
” She coiled the cord on her phone charger, then slipped it into her bag.
“I went back once, and to your point, people were not great. But I don’t know.
I just found out Dad’s parole was denied again, and it hit me that he’s not going to be here when I get married.
” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard against the ache that formed.
“He’s not going to walk me down the aisle, Britt.
That’s final. No more what-ifs or maybes. ”
Brittney’s expression softened. “So you’re going back for closure?”
“I’m going back to make things right,” Emma said.
“The least I can do is put the place on the market and pay the back taxes my mom owes. That house though—it’s more than just walls and an oceanfront view.
It was hot cocoa on the deck and watching the northern lights and eating waffles on Saturday mornings.
The perfect childhood I somehow thought would last forever.
I just need to go back one more time. To say goodbye. ”
Brittney leaned against the doorframe. “Can I ask you something?”
Emma nodded.
“What exactly did he do? I mean…to go to prison?”
Emma looked away. “He promised the people in Redemption that if they chipped in—kind of a small-town crowdfunding thing—he’d build a cannery. Something to help process the fish from the commercial fishing boats and keep business local. But the money disappeared.”
Brittney blinked. “Disappeared?”
Emma’s voice grew quieter. “There was a wire transfer. One he shouldn’t have made. It broke a federal law, and he got a longer sentence because of it. He said it was a mistake. But in Redemption, people felt betrayed. They had trusted him. Some of them lost everything.”
The silence stretched between them.
“So you’re just…walking back into all that?”
“I’m not walking back into anything,” Emma said, tipping her chin up. “I’m walking toward something. Toward the end of the whole mess. Then I can start my life with Nathan.”
Brittney picked at the polish on her fingernail. “And you think just showing up will fix it?”
“No. I’m going to show up because I’m not that scared teenager anymore. I’m thirty-three years old, and I can face the past without letting it define me.”
“What does Nathan think about all this?”
Emma turned and zipped up her suitcase. “He doesn’t love the idea, but he gets it.
Besides, he’s swamped with his surgical patients, plus he’s on call next weekend.
He won’t have time to miss me. I’ll go, deal with the problem, then I’ll come home.
And we’ll wrap up our plans and get married in July. ”
“Hmm. Okay. Well, I still think you’re a little nuts.”
Emma laughed. “Yeah, I can see that. I don’t agree with much my mother says these days, but she’s right about one thing.”
“Oh? Enlighten me. Please.”
“I need to let that place go.”
Brittney studied her. “And you think going back will help you do that?”
“I hope so.” Emma slid a bag with small souvenirs for Abbie’s family into her purse, then glanced around her room one more time. “Wish me luck.”
Brittney crossed the room and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m not going to say good luck.”
“All right.” Emma pulled away. “Why not?”
“Because I hope you find more than that. I hope you find peace. And maybe some happiness you didn’t expect.”
Emma blinked a few times and nodded, her throat catching again. “Thank you. I’ll keep you posted.”
She stepped out into the hallway, tugging her suitcase behind her.
The old floorboards creaked as she headed down the stairs and out the door to the light-rail station across the street.
She tried to dismiss Brittney’s doubts before they unpacked and took up residence in her head.
Yeah, okay, this was unlike her, jetting off to the Last Frontier because her mother conveniently hadn’t paid her taxes.
But somebody had to go. Besides, it was just ten days.
One last goodbye. That’s all she needed.
These extreme skiers weren’t worth the risk.
Luke stood by the back door in the resort’s kitchen, arms crossed, staring through the glass at the blackened ruins of cabin six. Snowflakes fell in lazy spirals outside, and clouds hung low, clinging to the mountains.
“That’s the third time this month we’ve had trouble and something’s gone wrong with skiers.” He turned and reached for the glass of water. His throat still hurt. Probably from battling the flames yesterday. Or the sour taste of his regrettable decisions.
His younger brother, Tate, leaned against the counter, putting a new bandage on a gashed knuckle he’d injured trying to knock the cabin door in with an axe handle. “Could’ve been worse. At least nobody was inside.”
Ethan poured coffee with his usual calm demeanor, although the muscle in his jaw twitched. “Still don’t know how it started. I’ve asked the volunteers who are staying in three of the cabins, but none of them saw or heard anything unusual.”
“The volunteers weren’t here,” Luke said. “They were cleaning up in town.”
Dad, seated in his wheelchair at the head of the table, ran a trembling hand down his ashen face.
The lines around his eyes looked deeper than normal.
“Still can’t believe it happened. Again.
” He leaned his elbows on the rustic wooden farmhouse table.
“I’ll call the insurance company. It’s the least I can do. ”
Mom set a mug in front of him and a handful of vitamins and supplements, then rubbed his shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Liam. This wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was my decision to comp all those workers that stayed here,” he said, shaking his head. “Now we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
Luke shot Ethan a meaningful look. Here’s your opening, bro.
Ethan stirred creamer into his coffee. “You didn’t let anything happen, Dad. You opened your doors when no one else could. After the tidal wave, we didn’t have a choice. People came to help, and they needed a place to stay.”
Oh, for the love. Really, Ethan?
“It wasn’t sustainable,” Luke said. His voice had an edge.
He hated that he let the words slip out, but this time, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“We lost a ton of income being gracious. Goodwill doesn’t pay the bills.
And now I’ve booked all these paying guests, and they nearly burned the place down. ”
Ethan stopped stirring, but he didn’t look up. Dad’s eyes flashed.
“You can’t blame our guests, Luke,” Mom said. “We don’t know that it’s their fault.”
“Outsiders are trouble,” Luke insisted. “These skiers and snowboarders don’t care about anything but themselves. They’re here for the thrill. They have zero respect for boundaries.”
Mom gripped the back of the dining-room chair. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the gig is up. Time to change our ways, starting right now.” Luke stormed out of the kitchen.
“Luke,” Ethan called after him. “Take a breather.”
He knew what he was doing, thank you. No breather necessary.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, jaw clenched tight.
He’d officially had it. The fire, the tension, the constant feeling that he was bailing water out of a sinking ship while his family clung to optimism like it was a flotation device.
He’d cleaned up the mess after the first fire.
Had to help pick up the pieces when their dad could no longer do it himself.
And maybe, if he was honest, he resented that.
As he reached the hallway outside the extreme skiers’ guest rooms, he passed a stack of duffel bags and outdoor gear leaning against a bench and kicked it over. The crash felt good. Then he turned and pounded on the first door.
“Up,” he barked. “Pack your stuff. You’re out in fifteen.”
A muffled protest came from inside. He didn’t wait. He went to the next room. Knocked harder.
“Let’s go. Don’t make me come back with a key. Shuttle leaves in fifteen.”
Within minutes, he’d banged on all six doors and the hallway buzzed with groggy, grumbling skiers zipping up jackets and dragging out their equipment.
Tate appeared in the hallway, brow furrowed. “What are you doing, man?”
“These guys need to go.”
“But they paid to stay through tomorrow.”
“Too bad. They should’ve thought about that before they burned down a cabin. If we hustle, they can make the next flight to Anchorage. Then we’re canceling all future reservations.”
“What?” Ethan stood at the top of the stairs, hand on the railing. “You are not serious. We’ll lose almost eight weeks of income.”
Luke brushed past him and went back downstairs. “Better than another fire. Or worse.”
He went behind the check-in desk and jabbed at the power button to turn on the computer. Tate and Ethan followed.
“You are not usually this impulsive,” Tate said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m exhausted,” Luke said, pulling up the system that tracked the reservations. “I’m tired of cleaning up messes. Tired of scraping by. And I’m sick of watching this place become a liability. This is not who we are.”
Mom appeared in the doorway, her face pale. “It’s going to take some time to get the insurance money for that cabin, honey. Your dad’s on the phone with our agent now, but they don’t move quickly. What do you plan to do for revenue?”
He didn’t answer, because he didn’t know.
“I’ll be out in the Suburban. Tell these bozos to join me. I’ll take them to the airport.”
A few minutes later, he had five of the six irritated skiers and their gear jammed into the Suburban.
But his mood had not improved. They were loud and hungover, still cracking jokes like they didn’t have a care in the world.
One of them muttered something about “five-star service,” and another chuckled and asked if this counted as a surprise evacuation drill.
Luke gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. If he opened his mouth, he might say something that provoked an argument.
He sat for a minute while they bickered about who had to buy a round of breakfast burritos from the restaurant inside the airport. His phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen.
It was an email from the lodge manager in Petersburg again. The job was still open. Good benefits. Paid relocation. No fires. No skiers with ego issues. No family trauma.
Fewer emotional land mines.
He tapped the link, reread the description, and let his thumb hover over the Apply Now button.
But he didn’t press it.
Instead, he shoved the phone into the cup holder and stared out the windshield. Wet flakes hit the glass in heavy silence, and the wipers smeared them away in slow, rhythmic strokes.
Tate helped the last guest load his skis into the back, then slammed the door.
“Here we go.” Luke turned on a classic rock station, ignoring the protests from his passengers, and shifted into Drive.
Man, a fresh start in Petersburg was looking better by the minute.