She had to chuckle at the uncharacteristic intensity. “I said I’m on it, Mom.”
“I’m going to present your letters to the historical society. Marlene thinks that it might be just the thing to breathe some life into this town.”
“Good,” she said distractedly. Girding herself, she dialed and put a hand up to signal quiet.
Unfortunately, she didn’t need to keep quiet for long. Damien was in a meeting and not to be disturbed. Sorrow had a good guess what the meeting was about, and if her hunch was right, he’d be unavailable for some time. Simmons Timber was ready to thin several overstocked acres, clearing debris in a fire-prevention effort, a huge concern in the Sierras. The problem was, his father was trying to use the program as an opportunity to clear more acreage than necessary.
The stance felt a bit uncharacteristic for the kindly Dabney Simmons, but she supposed you didn’t get to be rich without being aware of the bottom line. And for a timber company in a paperless era, that bottom line was getting progressively smaller. As a result, father and son were butting heads more often than not, with Damien increasingly outspoken about the responsibility they owed to the environment, while Dabney was preoccupied only with keeping food on his employees’ plates.
“He’s unavailable, and…oh, crap.” Sorrow shut her eyes as she hung up, turning her head heavenward to take a deep breath. A road closure had much bigger implications than her mom missing the historical society meeting. If their road was closed, nobody could drive to the lodge or tavern. It would mean a day’s business lost. “Crap,” she repeated vehemently. “We’ve got two groups of hunters coming in tonight, and I already bought a few sides of salmon to serve in the tavern.”
“Well Sully can’t cook it,” Edith said. “He hasn’t even made it in yet. That fool man insists on riding a motorcycle at his age.”
“He drives the Jeep in this weather, Mom.”
“Well, what are we going to do?” There was an edge to her mother’s voice that she didn’t often hear. “I don’t want your father getting upset. And I especially don’t want him going out in the car to check on it himself.”
Sorrow grabbed her coat and scarf from a hook in the mudroom off the garage. “Don’t borrow trouble. I’ll check on it and see what’s going on. Dad’s still watching the headlines—he won’t even know I’m gone.” Her father’s CNN addiction came in handy at times like these. The constant hum of the television was aggravating, but she knew he was safely ensconced in his den, apart from the lodge’s public area.
She was slipping on her snow boots when she heard the main entry door open. It was a slow creak followed by a tentative knock—someone polite enough to realize that, even though it was a lodge, a family lived there, too.
“Anybody home?” a man called.
She recognized Billy’s voice, and found herself putting a hand to her hair. She’d tugged it back that morning into a messy ponytail. So much for looking presentable.
Why should she care anyway? He was just a man like any other.
But he wasn’t just a man. He was Billy.
She pulled out the elastic and gave her head a shake as she finger combed some life into her waves. And then she went out to greet him. “Hi, Billy.”
Something in his face softened. “Hi, Sorrow.” His eyes went to her snow boots. “You know your road”—he stopped, seeing the look on her face—“you do know.”
“Yup. The road is closed.”
He nodded, frowning. “There are signs posted, but somehow nobody notified Caltrans. I called it in, and it should be cleared by this evening.”
“This evening?” So much for their guests.
“But I need to get to my meeting,” Edith said.
That again. The historical society meeting was the last thing on Sorrow’s mind. All she could think about was a hundred dollars in salmon that wouldn’t freeze well.
Edith began to sound frantic. “I told Marlene I’d drive her and the Kidd sisters. All she has is that pickup. You know the women hate climbing into that.”
“Mom, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to miss the m—”
Billy cut her off. “I’ll take you in the truck, ma’am.”
Sorrow shot him a look, waiting for an explanation.
He jingled his keys. “How do you ladies think I got here?”
Sorrow shook her head. “You’re nuts.”
He shrugged. “I had to see if today was the day Sully finally put his Prospector’s Pie on the menu.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “Now I really know you’re nuts.”