I needed to regroup before I hit the road, however, so I drove across town to a coffee shop, ready to pour over my business plan. I had more work to do than I wanted to think about, the days out of the office hitting me hard. I also had some phone calls to make. Knowing people in high places always came in handy.
I strolled inside with my laptop in hand, ready to veg out with a 24-ounce coffee and a muffin. Elena taught me to appreciate the finer things in life, like carbs. I hadn’t had one until she shoved a bite of blueberry in my mouth one morning. I always considered them gross breakfast cupcakes with sugar, sugar, and more sugar. I wasn’t wrong, but they were delicious.
Once I had a steaming cup of Cuban Roast and a berry-packed baked good, I wandered over to a table by the window, flipping my laptop on.
It was Friday, at least I thought it was, and people pining for their caffeine fix were in full swing. A few joined me to lounge around with laptops too, though many wore headphones to tune out the sounds of the cafe, dribbling coffee pots and the violent bubbling of cappuccino makers too much for their precious ears. Those were the gentle types, the hippie freelancers who came to write yoga articles before heading to the studio to stretch in pricey sessions with ASMR backdrops.
I couldn’t get work done that way, needing the constant buzz to keep the mojo flowing. I needed the rush, the energy. With the current crowd, I was almost hoping some kids would wander in to liven the place up. Were cafe field trips a thing?
I avoided email, knowing it was a mess, deciding to focus on some good old-fashioned analysis. I charted out the next month with targets, keying in a few appointments on my schedule. It would only get worse with the move.
I ran a few calculations that I didn’t like the result of, grabbing a sip of coffee for a shot of clarity. As I did, an oaf elbowed my chair, jerking my head forward, plummeting my nose straight into dark roast. I swallowed the initial rage as I wiped my face before turning to face the idiot.
“I’m so sorry, bro!” a familiar voice exclaimed.
My eyes fell on Justin, who went white at the sight of me. “I am so sorry!” he repeated, louder. He panicked, the two of us not seeing each other since he apologized for sending my girl flowers.
I flashed a smile. Maybe luck was on my side.
Elena
Pumpkin-spiced pancakes were a new obsession, thanks to Dad. He stocked the cabin with the instant mix in anticipation for Thanksgiving, knowing I’d love them. He was right. In the two weeks since I was home, I consumed roughly a metric shit-ton.
That morning was no different, the two of us dining on pumpkiny heaven and bacon. Vermont maple-glazed, of course.
“Are you headed back down soon?” Dad asked, eyeing me over the book in his hand, Moby Dick. As a teenager, it was my nickname for him when he was strict, much to his chagrin.
I smirked, pushing a slice of bacon around my plate. The piece had both Hank and Bruce’s undivided attention. “Trying to kick me out?”
He frowned, sliding his empty plate forward. “No, I’m worried about you driving back down with all these storms coming through.”
“What do you think if I buy a place in town?” I asked, tearing a corner off the bacon for Hank and tossing the rest to Bruce.
I received an offer letter from Commons Electrical the day before, crying in the coffee shop when I read it was for a product manager position. It paid more than enough to buy a place once I polished off the wedding bills.
“Like a vacation home?” he asked, raising a bushy brow. “You don’t have a need. You’re welcome here anytime, El.”
“No, a house to live in... permanently.”
He set down the book, studying me instead. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I replied, smiling.
His eyes didn’t leave my face, looking for any hints of a prank. “Right in Willits Bend?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He crossed his arms, still not buying it. “You're serious?”
“You don't believe me?” I laughed.
He shook his head, his beard scraping against the collar of his flannel. “You've been dead set on New York since you were a cricket, El.”
“What if I told you New York wasn't for me?”
He chuckled. “Well, the parent in me would tell you I told you so.”
I grinned. He always warned me I'd hate city life, just like Mom. There was a reason she fled to be up north with him.
“You really want to stay up here?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I closed the lease on my apartment. You’re kinda stuck with me till I find a place, Pops.”
He clenched a fist over his mouth, tears pricking his eyes, breaking my heart clean in two. I hurried over, hugging him close, offering what support I could to the old ox.
“That’s the best damn news I’ve heard in a while,” he muttered, hugging me back.
* * *
After breakfast, I headed out on my daily jog, a routine I started a few days after arrival. I walked the first few times, but once the snow melted enough from the storm, I could hustle like I used to.
It was a bitter, the bite of the air more than uncomfortable, robbing me of momentum as I trudged along. I quickened my pace, adding an extra oomph to each step, hoping to get my blood pumping enough to warm up.
I made it two miles down the trail before hearing the crunch of snow and gravel in the distance. I thought it was my footsteps echoing off the trees, but once I stopped moving, the sound continued. I whirled around, confused.
I listened closely and heard more crunching in the distance. I scanned the forest, seeing
