Page 86 of Room for Us

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“Ahem.”

Ethan’s lips release mine with a final graze. He looks over my shoulder at the speaker, while I stare up at him dazedly.

“Hi, Alana, Joan.”

I drop my head against Ethan’s chest. “They’re making faces, aren’t they?”

He speaks into my hair, “Yes. Happy ones. They have some sweet dance moves, too.”

Laughter bubbles inside me. As I turn around, Ethan tucks me soundly against his side. My mom and Joan wear identical expressions of glee.

“Hi, Zoey.” Joan grins, waving comically. I’m so used to seeing her in her uniform from Annie’s Pie Shoppe that she’s almost unrecognizable. Her hair—always up at work—is down, a waterfall of gray curls that softens her features dramatically. Instead of a starched shirt and apron, she wears linen pants and a colorful, flowing tunic. For a moment, I just stare at her, reminded powerfully that she and Aunt B were best friends.

“Hi, Joan,” I finally muster. “Thanks for helping Mom with Rose House while I was gone. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” She glances briefly at my mom, a spark of uncertainty in her eyes. “Honestly, I’ve missed it. And I love what you’ve done with the place. Barb would be so tickled. Wherever she is, she’s proud of you, hon.”

“Thanks,” I squeak past the lump in my throat. Ethan squeezes my shoulders and drops a kiss on my head.

My mom grins at me. “Joan managed the inn whenever your aunt Barbara was out of town.” And then she gives me an exaggerated wink.

Ethan murmurs, “That’s my cue to tell you I booked us a remote cabin at the mountain for the weekend.”

My head whips up. “An AirBnb?” I ask, horrified.

My mom laughs. “No—it belongs to a friend of mine.”

Risking whiplash, I shift my attention to her. “A friend?” She blushes. I gape. “Mom, tell me!”

“My boyfriend,” she admits. “He’s, uh… well, it’s Coach Weiler.”

Joan chuckles, nudging my mom. “Don’t be shy, Alana. It’s not like the whole town doesn’t know you’ve been dancing around each other for years.”

My mom’s response is to usher Ethan and me to the front door. “You kids have a wonderful weekend. Don’t worry about us. We’ll see you when you get back.”

“But I didn’t pack—”

“Your mom packed for you,” Ethan tells me, grinning as he leads me toward a rental car. At the immediate alarm on my face, he laughs. “I did mention it’s secluded? Besides, I don’t plan on letting you wear clothes much.”

“Oh, really?”

The look he slants me makes my knees weak.

“Really.”

The forty-minute drive up the mountain is idyllic, despite the winding, rarely used road boasting more potholes than asphalt. Old forest swallows the sky, and street signs become few and far between.

Eventually we resort to my mom’s written directions, tracking mileage from one weird landmark to the next. Turn left at the huge orange stump. There are a lot of stumps that qualify—but no roads—but we finally see a massive, distinctly orange one next to an overgrown driveway.

“Almost there,” Ethan mutters. “I hope.”

I roll down my window to feel the dry, cold mountain air. Up here, it truly feels like a different world.

“I can’t believe this is real,” I murmur.

Ethan grabs my hand, pulling it onto his warm thigh. “This drive is as real as it gets. My stomach confirms it.”

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