Chapter 9
NINE
ROBYN
“We actually don’t have to go far for this hike,” Zoe said, addressing the small handful of book club members who’d managed to slip away for the morning: Mrs. Bishop, Mrs. C., Mayor Bloomfield, and, of course, Tyler, with Emma in tow. The rest of the group would get the full report later.
It was one of those perfect Maple Falls autumn days.
The sky was a bright, impossible blue that looked freshly painted, and the trees surrounding the water were on full display: fiery reds and burnished oranges, flashes of gold catching wherever the sun hit the leaves.
The wind was minimal, just enough to stir the branches and send the occasional leaf skittering across the path.
Somewhere nearby, smoke curled from a chimney, mixing the scent of woodsmoke and Honeycrisp apples into the perfect autumn perfume.
The mild weather made Robyn feel slightly tricked by the date on the calendar. How could Halloween be in twelve days?
It was cold enough for jeans and a sweater, warm enough to skip a coat if you stayed in the sun. The sort of day Robyn wished she could bottle up and keep on her desk at Yale for gray November afternoons when the campus looked like a damp postcard, and everyone forgot how to smile.
But not today. Today, Robyn had plenty of reasons to smile, sandwiched between Tyler and Emma.
Tyler had dressed for the hike in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting, with a faded navy Henley pushed up to his elbows, khakis that had seen better days, a scarf he probably didn’t need but wore anyway, and yet…
Robyn kept losing her train of thought every time the sunlight caught the stubble along his jaw.
Fortunately for her, Emma was a very forgiving conversation partner.
The eight-year-old with her cotton-candy colored hiking boots and jean overalls had offered to share her trail mix with Robyn twice, before proceeding to skip ahead to lead the tour with Zoe.
Robyn watched her go with a smile, her heart tugging every time Emma looked back to make sure they were still following.
Zoe pointed toward the trail that curved around the lake, one hand resting instinctively on the small curve of her belly beneath her red puffer vest. “If this tree is the one I’m thinking of, we just need to walk around the water toward the residential side.
There’s a little offshoot trail that runs along the bank.
And if my memory isn’t totally betraying me, there’s a hollow oak up there. ”
Mrs. Bishop immediately looked down the paved loop in both directions as if the answer might leap out at her.
“Which way should we go around the lake?” she asked, then answered herself before anyone else could.
“Because I was thinking left, but if you’re saying it’s the residential district, maybe we should go right.
Unless it’s halfway in between, in which case left could still be more efficient—”
“It’s about halfway,” Zoe said, smiling.
“Halfway? Well then, I’m just not sure…” Mrs. Bishop wrung her hands. “But if we go to the right, it’ll be a tad faster.”
“Right it is,” Mayor Bloomfield declared with the elected authority he brought to ribbon cuttings, bake-off judging, and Christmas tree lighting ceremonies.
He adjusted his flat cap against the sun and looked genuinely delighted to be included.
“I’m just glad I could join you all. I told my niece Elsie about it and she wants photos to document the whole thing for social media. ”
Robyn had no doubt Elsie had a folder on her phone labeled Maple Falls Book Club Mystery. The town’s social media manager was always two hashtags and one candid photo away from turning ordinary town gossip into a full-blown community event.
They started along the paved trail, the group naturally spreading into little clusters. Zoe and Emma leading, while Tyler fell in step beside Robyn, staying close enough for her to feel his presence even when she didn’t look at him.
And then Emma, who had been quiet for all of thirty seconds, let out a delighted gasp and darted toward a patch of leaves near the edge of the path.
“Oh my goodness, look at this!” she announced, holding up a golden maple leaf that was, somehow, larger than the size of her head. It looked like something a fairy would use as an umbrella.
Robyn and the rest of the group stopped. “Wow, that’s gorgeous, Emma.”
Emma’s eyes went wide with excitement. “We should see how many pretty leaves we can find.”
“That’s an excellent plan.” Robyn smiled.
Emma clasped the leaf to her chest like a treasure. “Then we could make a leaf wreath, or a leaf scrapbook, or, I don’t know—probably lots of things, couldn’t we, Daddy?” She turned to Tyler, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Tyler looked down at her, and in that instant, he was only Emma’s dad. The rest of the world had to wait its turn. “I’m sure we can come up with something,” he said warmly.
Emma’s gaze sharpened with sudden, fierce purpose. “Yes. That’s it.” She turned back to Robyn, solemn as a tiny judge. “We should have a contest.”
“A contest?” Robyn repeated.
Emma nodded decisively. “The prettiest leaf in Maple Falls.”
Mrs. Bishop gasped. “Oh, I love this.”
Mayor Bloomfield looked equally thrilled. “Competitive leaf collecting,” he murmured, quickly approving.
Emma’s eyes swung between Robyn and Tyler. “You and Daddy are competing.”
Robyn blinked. “Emma—”
“No arguing,” Emma said, raising a small hand to settle the matter. “You have to find the prettiest leaf. And you can’t copy each other. You have to show me at the end, and I’ll decide who wins.”
Tyler’s mouth twitched. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I suppose rules are rules.”
Emma beamed.
They continued down the trail, the lake glittering beside them, the leaves scattering along the path.
Across the lake, a church steeple caught the light, and the mountains beyond it were hazy and gold rimmed.
Meanwhile, Mayor Bloomfield offered occasional commentary, hands tucked in the pockets of his corduroy sport coat, as if he were narrating a nature documentary.
“Now, hear that? Those are eastern bluebirds. Lovely bird. Truly marvelous. Bet they’ll be migrating soon,” he was saying.
Robyn could feel Tyler’s gaze on her, and when she looked up, he smiled. It was as if he was watching her fall into his life, into the book club, into the town, into Emma’s little universe where anything and everything could become a game.
It was unbelievable, really, how much she felt like she belonged, felt like she’d lived in Maple Falls for years and not weeks. Which only made it worse, because in six weeks she’d be back at Yale, marking essays under fluorescent light, pretending this had all been a pleasant detour.
Somewhere ahead, Zoe lifted her hand. “Okay,” she said, slowing as the paved path narrowed toward a small dirt trail that veered off toward the bank. “This is the turnoff. If the oak is still there—and it should be—it’ll be just up here.”
Robyn’s pulse gave a small, anticipatory kick as they stepped onto the trail, the sound of the lake softening behind them, the trees closing in.
Tyler fell into step beside her while Emma raced ahead, boots crunching through leaves. “You know,” he murmured, “if we were alone right now, I might have to kiss you under this maple tree.”
Heat rushed through Robyn’s chest, spreading outward from her heart. She kept her face carefully composed. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, his voice dipping lower, close enough that the words brushed her ear. She caught the faint scent of cedar on him again, and her mind obligingly supplied an image of what “alone right now” would look like.
Robyn lifted her brows. “Could I take that as a raincheck, then?”
“I think I can arrange that,” Tyler said. He was close enough that Robyn could feel the heat radiating off of him, which triggered her other senses from yesterday: the feel of his hands on her waist, the softness of his lips as he claimed her.
“I think that’s the tree,” Zoe called from up ahead.
“Oooh, let me see! Let me see!” Emma darted forward, ponytail bouncing.
The group reached the oak, which stood apart from the surrounding trees by sheer size alone.
It rose more than a hundred feet into the clear autumn sky, its silvery bark deeply furrowed, its twisted branches still holding tight to fiery red and orange leaves.
The trunk was wide and ancient, with a dark hollow tucked high above them, just out of reach even for Tyler, who had inches to spare on everyone else.
“Lift me up, Daddy. I can reach it,” Emma declared, already holding her arms up like this was obviously the correct solution.
Tyler gave her a look. “Sweetpea, we don’t know what might be living in that tree after all these years.”
Robyn, Zoe, and Mrs. Bishop all made noises of agreement.
Robyn stepped forward. “Here. How about I give it a try?”
Tyler hesitated, then crouched low in front of her. “Okay. Carefully.”
Robyn climbed onto his shoulders, trying to act like this was an everyday activity for Ivy League professors on sabbatical, bracing her legs around this gorgeous man’s neck while the entire town watched.
Tyler’s hands settled at her calves and she swallowed at the pressure of his palms through denim.
“You good?” he asked, voice tipped up toward her.
“Yes,” she said too quickly, then tried again, calmer. “Yep. I’m good.”
He rose smoothly, one hand braced against the trunk for balance as he stepped closer.
His other hand stayed wrapped around her ankle.
Robyn’s fingers curled against the bark, rough and cool beneath her palm, and she could feel the steady strength of him under her, his solid shoulders, steady stance, the faint lift and fall of his breathing.
She leaned forward, peering into the hollow. The air under the branches was darker and damp, the inside of the tree smelling faintly of wet wood and earth. For a moment she saw only shadow—then, deeper in, a glint of something smooth and square.