Return to Virgin River

breakfast and a brief visit to the sandbox, Kitty went in the cat carrier Kaylee had bought. That would keep her from hiding or having an accident. Then Kaylee took a walk. Though the scenery was lovely and the August morning was cool and fresh, those were not the reasons she faithfully walked each day. It was a holdover from those first weeks after her mom had passed, back when she couldn’t seem to find a reason to get out of bed. At the time she told herself she was simply exhausted from putting together a celebration-of-life event, entertaining friends and family, and not sleeping well at night because the darkness brought increased longing. Then she realized she was grieving and depressed and began to fear she might melt into a puddle and disappear. That seemed briefly desirable, but the image of her mother’s beautiful face twisted into a disapproving frown provided some stimulus to get up and move, to shower when really, who cared? She forced herself to eat though she wasn’t hungry and forced herself to move when what she wanted to do was curl up and just fade away.

Thinking her mother might be watching and that she would approve of Kaylee’s efforts kept her going. And taking at least one long walk every day became routine for her.

After her walk, she showered and went through the motions of getting comfortable, brewing a fresh cup of coffee and propping the laptop on her thighs. She began reading the work in progress from page one. Again.

But she realized she was reading page seven for about the twentieth time and she had just had it. “This can’t go on,” she said aloud. “I have got to get my mojo back. If I can’t write, what can I do? After the money I have runs out, take to the streets?”

“Mew,” came the answer.

It was nearly lunchtime when Kaylee walked into Jack’s Bar. There were quite a few people gathering. She saw Mel sitting up at the bar while Jack stood behind it so she went to the stool beside Mel.

“Well, hey there, I was just getting ready to give you a call. That Realtor I told you about, Gloria Patterson, has a few rentals in the area she’d be happy to show you, if you’d like,” Jack said.

“Did she happen to describe them at all?” Kaylee asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Except to say they were pretty nice, a couple had porches, one in town here and the others scattered around the hills. You want some lunch?”

“I don’t suppose you have salad?”

“They’ve gotten pretty good with salads once the population of women grew a little and we were all getting fat on Preacher’s food,” Mel said.

“How about a half a sandwich and a salad,” Jack offered.

“I could do that. And I’ll call the Realtor. Maybe this situation will get resolved soon, but I have to say, that little casita is awfully nice. Mel, I wonder if I could impose on you to borrow your washer? I have a small load of laundry.” She didn’t want to mention it was a load of sheets with the comforter. She was afraid they’d throw her out. That kitten was small enough so the spot barely showed, but still...

“Of course,” Mel said. “The back door is unlocked and the laundry room is between the garage and kitchen.”

“And the dog?”

“Ralph won’t bother you, except maybe to ask for a pet or treat. He’s very quiet and good-natured. Now, hurry and call Gloria,” Mel urged. “I’m dying to know what she’s got.”

“Me, too,” Kaylee said. She looked at the number Jack had written on a small slip of paper and keyed it into her phone.

“Gloria Patterson, please. This is Kaylee Sloan.” Then she began a series of questions. Are the houses furnished? Is there a view or at least pretty surroundings? How many bedrooms? Is the kitchen modern? Fireplace? Central heat? Available for six months? How are the utility bills handled? What’s the rent? And finally, “I’d be happy to meet you at three. That’s perfect.”

Then she relayed what she’d learned to Mel and they began to chat about everything related to living in the area—what some of the neighboring towns had to offer, where to go antiquing if Kaylee was into that sort of thing, what the fruit and vegetable stands along the road and the farmers market in Fortuna had to offer.

“Soon it will be cool enough for soups,” Mel said. “I’m a lousy cook but Jack is amazing and Preacher better still. But I still love the farmers market and if I bring home a big box of beautiful fruits and vegetables, Jack can turn it into something delicious.”

“I think that after I settle on a house I should look around to rent a Jack!”

“I have no advice on where to find one,” Mel said. “He took me by surprise.”

Somewhere in a conversation punctuated by laughter, Jack brought lunch for both of them.

“I’d love to hear about your work,” Mel said.

While they ate, Kaylee explained that she wrote suspense novels, the kind that made you wonder what that sound was in the dark of night, the kind that made you check the locks.

“I’ll go to the bookstore,” Mel said. “I love to read, it’s my primary relaxation, but I warn you—I only read the kind of books you write when I’m feeling very brave and secure.”

“What do you usually read?” Kaylee asked.

“I love romance and love stories. In my work, I require happy endings. And hopefulness. I like to read about people working things out.”

“You do know they’re fictional people working things out...”

“Not when I’m reading them,” Mel said. “After you get yourself settled in, if you find you need supplies or clothes or just want to look around, I’d be happy to tag along. I have to plan, though. I have patients to see and the kids, but Jack is great at backing me up in the kid department. My sister-in-law next door