if he needed to go to her.
He’d done it once before. Come down the mountain to repair that plumbing problem she had.
But she called him. It was different.
He meandered back down the path that led to the housing site and surveyed his progress. It was slow. But by design. There was no way to do a project like this by yourself and have it go quickly. Building this house had felt like action for a long time. He had never been one to sit around doing nothing, even when everything was terrible. There was always something to be done.
But he wanted to do something else. There was something else to do. And that, he supposed, was a gift.
One thing he’d always been was a man who knew what he wanted, and who took steps to get it.
But he’d been a whole lot of nothing for the last few years.
And at the point where he had no idea why he was still standing there with his hammer in his hand, rather than heading down the mountain to see the woman that he wanted to see, he figured he had better get going. Because he wanted to see Iris Daniels. And so he would.
Because life was short and uncertain, but he was breathing.
So he might as well do something with that breath.
* * *
HE DROVE DOWN the mountain, and things seemed a bit brighter. Once he was on the main street, he found that he felt hopeful. An experience he was no longer familiar with. When he pulled up to the bakery, he saw her through the window, standing on a chair and fiddling with what he thought might be a light fixture.
There was a sign hanging out front that read The Cookie Jar.
She’d mentioned that was the name. But he’d forgotten to ask her about it.
He got out of the truck, and walked up to the front door. She turned sharply, her eyes going wide, and then she scrambled down from the chair and went to the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I thought...”
“I’ve been here before.”
He stepped past her and made his way into the bakery. “I know,” she said. “I just...”
“You just what?”
“I sort of thought that... I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to come down.”
“There is a time for everything. And I’ve been avoiding the reality of that.”
“Oh.”
“I wanted to see you. And I couldn’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t.”
“You wanted to see me?”
“I did. And I was standing up there, working on my house, thinking about you, and didn’t see why you shouldn’t be right in front of me.”
Because she could be. That was the thing. She was here and so was he. So why waste any time?
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
But she didn’t make any move to kiss him, and he wondered if there was someone from her family around.
“Is anyone else here?”
“No. I’m all alone. Just getting some last-minute things done. My permits are all in, and I think I’m just going to open in a couple of days.”
“Really? No grand opening?”
“My brother asked me the same thing. But I figured I would do a soft open and see how things go. And then...”
“Make sure that I know when your grand opening is.” Except, as soon as he said that, he realized he wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to make any other choice. He was going to be there. He was going to be around. And he was going to make sure that he knew what was happening with the business. First of all, her business was linked with him, and that meant he should be engaging in that. Second of all, he wanted to know what was going on with her life.
And much like the horse ride he’d invited her on, he wasn’t going to do much worrying about why. He was just going to be in it.
“I like the sign,” he said. “Like the name.”
“Thank you. I... My mom always had cookies made.” Her expression wrinkled, just for a moment. A small ripple of sadness that quickly vanished. “I like cookies.”
“I noticed that.”
She got a very sad, wistful look on her face, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. “Does it make you sad? To think about her?”
“Not all the time. I mean, really not. She’s been gone from my life for longer than I had her in it. That makes me sad. And sometimes thinking about the cookies makes me sad. It’s just that you