Page 2 of Easy, Tiger

"Only if Mayor Tapper here promises not to eat them all before his next town council meeting," Ellie shoots back with a wink, sliding a steaming mug across the counter to me. "Ben Carter, Mayor Matthew Tapper, meet our new artist. She's renting the Whitmore place."

Ben's handshake could break open walnuts, but his grip stays gentle. "Trail maintenance supervisor. You picked a perfect time to arrive—autumn's our best season for hiking."

"And I'm the Mayor, as Ellie so subtly pointed out," Tapper adds, extending a hand that feels softer than Ben's but equally as welcoming. "We're absolutely thrilled to have you here in Red Pine. If you need anything—be it town records or a recommendation for the best pie—my office door is always open."

"I was hoping to explore the area to do some research for my project."

"What kind of project?" Ben asks.

"Wildlife illustrations for a regional field guide."

His eyes brighten. "You'll want the overlook trail, then. Best wildlife viewing in the valley. Head north from your cabin about half a mile; check for the blue blazes on the trees. The trail winds up through mixed forest—you'll see everything from songbirds to deer."

Ellie rests her elbows on the counter "How long are you staying?"

"Through winter, at least. Maybe longer if the work goes well."

"Winter here's something special. It's a different kind of beautiful."

Ben bobs his head in agreement. "Quieter, too. Wildlife gets bolder when the tourists clear out."

The coffee warms my hands through the ceramic mug. Conversation flows without the undercurrent of judgment I've grown accustomed to, free and easy as the weeks of tension finally melt away.

The café door chimes again as a woman in paint-splattered overalls enters, her grey hair twisted into a practical bun.

"Margie Harrington," she introduces herself, extending a hand stained with faded paint and turpentine. "I run the pottery studio down the street. Heard we've got an artist in residence."

"Word really does travel fast here."

Margie perches on the stool beside me. "Small towns are like that. What medium do you work in?"

"Graphite, mostly. Some watercolor for fieldwork."

"Traditional techniques. I like that. Too many people think digital's the only way these days."

A younger man in a forest service uniform strides through the door, dark hair cropped close and a faint sunburn across his nose, tipping his chin to Ben. "Dave Morrison, one of the forest rangers. You're the one doing the wildlife guide?"

"That's the plan."

"Excellent, we've been needing updated documentation for years. The old guide lists species that migrated out of the valley decades ago."

Ben slumps slightly over the ridge of the counter. "Dave knows every animal track in a fifty-mile radius."

"One of the occupational hazards," Dave grins. "Let me know if you need help identifying anything unusual."

There is a refreshing directness to the people here; they welcome me as a part of the landscape itself, finding my presence sufficient without the need for questions or background. They treat me with the same cool familiarity they bestow upon the changing leaves, accepting me as I am.

In the city, conversations always contained undercurrents of networking and subtle competitions disguised as small talk. Here, speech is a simple, straightforward act, driven solely by a natural desire to connect.

Draining the last of my coffee, I slide off the stool. "This has been lovely, but I should take advantage of the daylight."

"Trail's clearly marked," Ben reminds me. "Blue blazes all the way up."

Ellie waves from behind the espresso machine, a final bit of warmth before I venture back into the crisp afternoon. "Come back soon, dear. The dinner crowd brings different faces." I offer a silent sign of assent, grateful for the invitation but eager to lose myself in the terrain.

Following Ben's directions north from the cabin, I hike as the light dwindles through the canopy; eventually, the blue blazes appear exactly where promised, painted rectangles on oak and tree trunks that guide me upward through switchbacks designed to ease the climb.

The forest changes as elevation increases. Birches give way to conifers, their needle-carpeted floor muffling my footsteps. A red squirrel scolds me from overhead, its territorial chatter echoing off the trees.