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The morning of December 28, Phoebe awoke to birds singing, Mittens purring against her chest, and sunshine pooling on her pillow. Deliciously warm sunshine.

She stretched and savored the sensations for another minute. Her plan for the day was to work. Work and wait for Jonathan to call. But she was only in Florida for two more days, and she would be a fool not to take advantage of this weather.

She was going for a walk. Right after she dosed herself with allergy medicine.

“You are an adorable little menace,” she told Mittens as she scooped food into his bowl.

So far, she hadn’t had to make her own coffee at Arden’s house. She’d found a classic drip coffee maker in the cabinet, but she didn’t know how to use it. At home, she either used her Keurig machine or bought coffee from one of the fifteen coffee shops near her apartment. Maybe she would find a place to buy coffee on her walk.

Dressed in leggings and a large T-shirt, she slipped on her sneakers and flung her purse over one shoulder. Outside, it was something like paradise. The air was warm but laced with a cool breeze, the scent of dew rising from the grass. It was incredible to her that Arden had to walk—or drive—for several minutes before coming across her closest neighbor. What was that even like? Phoebe loved the bustle of the city, but it must be a peaceful existence to be surrounded by nothing but trees and a quiet country road.

After what felt like ten minutes, she finally reached the rusty gate that marked the end of Arden’s driveway. Right. She might be walking a very long time to find a coffee shop. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any nearby other than Colsie’s, which would take at least an hour to walk to.

So maybe she’d try the other direction. The country road went both ways, after all.

She breathed heavily as she climbed a slight hill, dust rising around her. It was getting hotter, but the fresh, verdant smells and the sun-dappled canopy overhead kept her going. It was beautiful here. After at least half a mile, she passed another house, a large ranch-style home set way back from the road. She could smell them before she saw them: horses.

“Hi, guys,” Phoebe breathed, stepping up to the wire fence. A black horse stayed back, but a brown mare ambled closer and, when Phoebe reached a hand through the fence, pressed her nose into Phoebe’s palm, nostrils twitching curiously. “You are beautiful. What’s your name?”

Just then, a truck sped by. The driver craned his head toward Phoebe as he passed, and she noted that it wasn’t a look of neighborly curiosity but more a look of Who the heck are you? The sound of the truck and the cloud of dust it left behind broke the special moment between Phoebe and the mare, who turned and slowly walked back to her friend.

“Bye,” Phoebe called.

She kept walking, and the next house she passed appeared to be uninhabited if the boarded-over windows and ancient, rusted sedan out front were any indication. She was sweating now, and the concept of finding a quaint little espresso cart out here to sell her an iced latte seemed wildly improbable. Taking a walk in High Springs was clearly not the same as taking a walk in Seattle.

She checked the time on her phone—trying not to notice that she had no messages from Jonathan—and calculated how long it would take to walk back, get Arden’s car, and drive to Colsie’s. She’d be lucky to have a coffee in hand by ten a.m. She stashed her phone and had just started walking back toward Arden’s when another truck went by in the opposite direction, but this one slowed down.

“You lost?” A middle-aged woman with the voice of a lifelong smoker leaned her elbow on her open window.

“Lost? No.” Phoebe wiped sweat from her upper lip. “I was taking a walk.”

“A walk?”

“I’m visiting—from out of town—and it was so nice out, I decided to walk and look for coffee.”

“Coffee.” The woman laughed, a sound like tires on gravel. “Well, the closest coffee’s at my house, or I can give you a ride back to wherever it is you’re staying.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I can—” Phoebe gestured vaguely back up the road.

“This ain’t a street for walking, hon. Hop in.”

Phoebe walked around to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door, and climbed in.

“Just me and my sister back at mine. She loves feeding people if you want some breakfast. Or you want me to turn around?”

“Breakfast sounds great, actually.”

The truck crunched down the road. Phoebe peeked at the woman as she drove. She had deeply tanned, leathery skin and shoulder-length hair the color and texture of hay. She wore wire-rimmed glasses, and her strong jaw worked on a piece of peppermint gum.

“Why you here? Family?”

“No, I’m just here on a solo trip. To get away from the city.”

“Here?” The woman flicked her eyes disbelievingly at Phoebe.

Phoebe laughed lightly. “Yeah. The country sounded nice.”

“What’s your name?”