They followed her into the dining room, and everyone gathered around the long farmhouse table. Rex sat at the head, his usual command softened by the flicker of candlelight. The storm groaned outside, wind clawing at the windows.
Mara and Warren had set the table with a plaid runner and mismatched bowls. Steam rose from a pot of beef stew in the center. Two baskets of golden biscuits flanked both sides, along with two crocks of whipped butter.
Jason volunteered to offer a prayer before eating, and everyone bowed their heads.
After he said amen, they dug in.
Olive was hungrier than she’d thought. Then again, she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that had been six hours ago.
Mara’s stew was perfect—tender beef, savory gravy, and carrots that melted on the tongue. The biscuits were buttery and soft. The food warmed more than their stomachs—it warmed their souls.
Olive tried to let the comfort sink in.
Something about this moment reminded her of her mom. She’d loved making homemade biscuits—but she only made them on special occasions like Christmas or Thanksgiving.
If Olive closed her eyes, she could still remember how buttery and flaky they tasted.
A moment of grief tried to rise up inside her, but she pushed it away.
She’d spent so many Christmases grieving. This one, she’d told herself she would try to celebrate instead.
She tried to let the normal rhythm of clinking spoons and murmured thanks steady her heartbeat. But every bite felt heavy.
JJ’s face kept flashing in her mind—his freckles, his open curiosity, the way the snow had half-covered him when they’d found him. She remembered the Pac-Man sweatshirt he loved wearing, and how he even liked to imitate the game—using his arms like a giant mouth gobbling up coins while making sound effects.
Someone at this table might have answers.
Someone at this table might have blood on their hands.
She didn’t believe it—she didn’twantto believe it—but the thought wouldn’t leave her alone.
Rex’s expression gave nothing away, but she couldn’t forget that flicker of unease she’d felt earlier.
He was hiding something. She just didn’t know what.
Across the table, Warren’s phone chimed with an alert.
He glanced down, brow furrowing. “Weather service says the storm’s stalled. It’s sitting right on top of us instead of moving east.”
Tevin groaned. “So, we’re officially trapped?”
“Looks that way.” Warren’s smile was thin but good-natured. “At least we went grocery shopping yesterday. We’ve got plenty of food—should be able to feed an army for a week.”
“That’s true,” Mara said quickly, though her voice wavered. “We’ll make the best of it.”
Mitzi excused herself, phone in hand, and hurried from the room.
Olive managed a faint smile, deciding that maybe it would be best for everyone if they talked about something other than JJ and the storm. “I think I heard someone say earlier that you two bought this place a few years ago. Is that correct?”
Warren brightened slightly, clearly relieved by the change in topic. “Five years come spring. Mara and I both retired from government jobs, and we were both ready for slower living. Figured if we were going to be snowed in every winter, we might as well charge people for it.”
“Best decision we ever made,” Mara added with a warm smile at her husband. “Most years, anyway.”
Her attempt at humor fell flat. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the hiss of the fire in the living room
Olive studied her, more questions popping into her mind. “So it’s just you two here? No other staff or guests?”
Mara swallowed hard before nodding. “That’s right. Aegis rented the whole facility for the week.” She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ve got the mountain all to yourselves. Only Warren and I stayed. We let our housekeeping and maintenance staff have a few days off.”
