One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,1
But Hope had to admit that at times Piney had an uncanny ability to know what was up with Ella, and thus decided that Piney was an intuitive. Piney maintained that she was more in touch with the universe than regular folks because she was born on the summer solstice. She certainly looked like Mother Earth—her gray hair curled at her shoulders, her Bohemian skirts flowing about her, and her wise smiling face, as if she were privy to the world’s inner secrets. A self-proclaimed hippie, Piney had arrived in Alaska in the seventies, searching for the truth, traveling and sleeping in her converted blue school bus, way ahead of the current tiny home movement. Piney and her thirty-four-year-old daughter, Sparkle, had lived in that blue bus until just a few weeks ago, when two suits from Juneau had arrived, asking to purchase the bus for the state capitol as part of a pioneer sculpture. Piney took the money, telling everyone she’d outgrown the bus. But Hope knew money was tight since Sparkle’s emergency appendectomy. It was perfect timing, too, as the apartment above the Hungry Bear had been vacated the week before.
“Keep your chin up, buttercup,” Piney said. “Don’t let your negative thinking carry you away. Besides, I’m calling to see if you know whether the rumor is true.”
Once again, Hope glanced at the clock. Ten forty. Maybe she should call the Alaska State Troopers to find Ella. “What rumor?”
“Mr. Brewster heard at the bank that Donovan Stone is coming home.”
It felt like a lightning strike. Hope couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think either. “Donovan? Here?” What am I going to do? She hadn’t seen him in seventeen years, not since his grandmother’s funeral . . . where he’d told Hope he never wanted to see her again. And he hadn’t.
The front door creaked. For a second, Piney’s call kept Hope from being able to move. But as Ella tripped on the threshold, Hope yelled into her phone, “Gotta go.” She lunged for her daughter, breaking her fall and keeping Ella’s head from hitting the corner of the side table.
Ella’s response was to laugh as she went down. “You should see your face!”
Hope didn’t think it was funny. “Where have you been?” She kicked the door shut with her foot. Winter was just getting started, and the baseboard heaters were expensive to run.
Ella stopped laughing. “Chill, Mom. I was just out with friends.” Her words were slurred, and her breath smelled of cheap wine.
A smell that brought back awful memories.
“Who drove you home tonight?” Hope hadn’t heard a vehicle. “Were they drinking, too?”
“I walked home from Lacy’s.”
“The trail through the forest?” Hope glanced out the window to the black sky beyond. “Did you have your flashlight with you?”
“I was fine,” Ella said. “I didn’t need my flashlight. I know my way.”
But Alaska was dangerous!
Sweet Home wasn’t Anchorage, but someone could’ve kidnapped Ella and Hope would’ve never seen her again. Or Ella could’ve fallen into the river. Or she could’ve encountered a late-to-hibernate bear!
Hope got to her feet and helped Ella to her feet, too. “We’re going to talk about this tomorrow. I know you’re sad about Grandpa’s passing—”
Ella swayed from side to side. “Don’t bring Grandpa into this. He has nothing to do with anything.” She wobbled into her room.
Hope followed and caught the door before Ella slammed it shut. Hope’s heart was heavy, so very heavy, as she watched her teenage daughter stagger across her room and fall into bed. Hope plodded over to Ella and pulled off her boots. “I think your drinking has everything to do with Grandpa’s death.”
Death was such a harsh word, but it had been harsh for Hope to see her dad lying in that casket, felled by a heart attack. There hadn’t been time for her to fall apart, though. Hope had to keep it together for Ella. Remain strong. Even when she felt her life coming apart at the seams. Sometimes it was best to focus on the small things.
Hope laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “I couldn’t find your warm socks.” She congratulated herself for coming up with something so benign.
Ella rolled her eyes. “Please don’t start lecturing. They’re at the bottom of my closet. I’ll pack in the morning, all right? And yes, you’ve told me a hundred times to take care of my feet, especially during winter.” She rolled away, burying her face in her pillow, which muffled her voice so she sounded a bit like Charlie Brown’s teacher.