Chapter One
Sunlighthitsmesquarein the eyes. I jerk the wheel to the side and slam on the brakes.
My heart pounds furiously.Good sign.That means I didn't lose my life tumbling down a ravine off Bearclaw Pass. I reach a shady stretch of road and hit the accelerator.
I’ve got to slow down.
But I’m almost there. I crest the hill at the height of Bearclaw Pass. On the opposite side is the most beautiful place I’ve ever known.
Swathes of evergreens surround a pristine mountain lake. Luxury homes of seasonal residents spread out along the shoreline. Their piers jut out over shimmering water. At this time of year, very few boats remain tethered to the wooden pilings.
The summer tourist season is over. The first frost could come any day now.
I strain to glimpse out the top of the windshield. Above me is azure blue, the color of my daughter Lara's eyes.
The road turns sharply. I twist the wheel, somehow keeping a grip on the worn leather.
Now I see it. I take in a horrified breath. Smoke rises from the far side of Bearclaw Lake. Right over the bed-and-breakfast.
I glance ahead and slam on the brakes. Mom's ancient Cherokee comes to a screeching stop in front of an SUV with the Bearclaw Mountain Park logo.
I leave the Jeep and head toward tall, lanky Ollie speaking into his phone. He’s the sweetest guy. My cousin is lucky to have snagged him as her boyfriend.
I make out the words “damage” and “contained” from his end of the call.
This is no small fire.
“Sammy,” Ollie says.
“What’s going on?”
“Big-time fire at the bed and breakfast. But things are looking better by the minute. They don’t think it’s going to spread, so they can focus on the structure.”
Ruined. The B&B. My plans. My savings.“Was anyone hurt?”
“So far it doesn’t look like any of our guys got hurt.” Ollie holds my gaze. “You said there was no one in the B&B?”
“No one was there. It was about to undergo renovations.”
I picture the twenty-thousand-square-foot B&B that was going to be the central dwelling of my digital detox retreat. The architect submitted the plans last week for the renovations. He told me the structure was sound. The bones were good. The exterior barely needed any work.
It’d be finished by the end of the year.
I was going to spend the rest of winter putting the finishing touches on the interior design and getting reservations on the books. We were going to open this spring.
Did the inspector miss something? Was there a gas leak? Bad wiring?
“Did the fire originate in the B&B?”
Ollie shrugs. “You’ll have to ask the crew. All I know is everyone’s safe."
A red truck that looks like the cross between an ambulance and an ATV barrels toward us. “Wildland Fire Authority,” Ollie says. “Things must've calmed down if they’ve got time to check in.”
The Wildland Fire Authority appears to be one man getting out of the driver’s side. He has on a yellow suit with reflective strips, and there's a yellow helmet perched on his head. He's tall and broad and looks like he means business.
He pushes the door shut behind him and stalks toward Ollie like I don’t exist. “Any word from the B&B owner?” he asks, bringing the scent of smoke and heavy equipment.
I’m the owner, I mean to say, but the words won’t come. I can only stare. The Fire Authority is magnificent. He’s got the high cheekbones and authoritative jawline of a guy who appears on magazine covers. Or, more to the point, firemen calendars. Cutting through his hazel eyes are flecks the color of evergreens. Wavy brown hair falls just over his jacket collar. The light lines around his eyes make me think he’s in his mid-thirties at least.
