Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19) - Robyn Carr Page 0,94

arranged to have a small studio erected behind the house in the backyard, just on the other side of the small pool. It was big enough for Landry to use as his studio when they were there.

Mallory was now eleven and had friends in Newport as well as friends in Virgin River. The majority of their time was spent in Newport Beach where the house was larger and the winters milder. And there was a more convenient airport for the traveling they wanted to do. Landry was updating his Virgin River studio, but leaving everything else the same. They had become one of those very fortunate families with a summer home. Their plan was to live in Newport Beach for the school year and spend summers and Christmas in Virgin River. Luckily Tux, Otis and Lady didn’t mind long car rides.

Landry liked Newport and there were many opportunities for him in the shops and galleries around Southern California. And Mallory took to the town and the ocean very quickly. She also took to the idea of being part of the family she’d helped to create.

Kaylee was now officially a certified foster parent. The county had found a couple of distant relatives of Mallory’s, her mother’s second cousins living in Seattle. They hoped to meet them soon, but Mallory was very happy with Landry and Kaylee and had no interest in finding other guardians.

It was as if the three of them came together at exactly the right time. Landry had been lonely, Kaylee had been bereaved and Mallory had been in need of a family to help her with the rest of her growing up.

Kaylee and Landry balanced their work and family life like synchronized swimmers. There were times Landry had to visit stores and galleries to sell his art just as there were writers’ conferences and promotional trips Kaylee was anxious to return to.

In the new year Kaylee and Landry were planning to get married.

But they were back in Virgin River for their first Christmas as an official family. They had seen the raising and decorating of the tree, and Kaylee had spent days working with the volunteers who put together food baskets and bought Christmas gifts for residents in need. There were many social gatherings, and Howard was invited to stay with them for the holidays.

The anonymous Christmas fairies again delivered gifts to Kaylee’s porch. Sometimes it was obvious where they came from—winter crops from Jillian, canned delicacies from Kelly, handmade fishing flies from Jack, baked goods from Paige and many others who just appreciated all that Kaylee and Landry did for the town. This time Kaylee reciprocated with her own gifts of signed books and baked goods, scattering them around the mountain village.

And a few days before Christmas a small decorated tree had appeared on Kaylee’s porch. Her mother had not appeared, which was very disappointing. But there was an ornament on the tree that looked like a pair of pajamas, the kind with feet in. It was made of red glass, something Landry could have crafted. There was a white streamer, also glass, swirling out from the ornament. And on the streamer it said, You’ll Be Fine.

And they were.

* * *

Keep reading for an exclusive look at Robyn Carr’s thoughts on visiting the set of the Netflix production of Virgin River.

Robyn Carr’s reflections on visiting

the set of Virgin River

Virgin River is Alive! Really!

When my readers write to me to say my characters have become real to them, that they have become like friends or family, I always smile and think, You have no idea how much so. Sometimes they’re almost too real for me. When I am writing a novel, my characters occupy so much space in my mind. I join them for meals, take them on walks, lie beside them in bed, wake up to them in the morning. Sometimes I feel like covering up in the shower!

They talk to me inside my head; I can imagine the sound of their voices, and there are times I’ve created writing exercises to help bring them to life. A few times I’ve interviewed characters to get a better fix on who they are. To a novelist, especially this novelist, the most authentic writing doesn’t look like writing at all. It looks more like scribbling or daydreaming or, in the best of times, rocking in a hammock. I took this approach when I started writing Virgin River. Me to Mel: What are you running away from? Mel to me: