Page 89 of The Lost Book of First Loves

He followed her inside, noting again how the place had already begun to seem like hers in only the short time she had been here. A blanket had been tossed over the edge of the sofa; those wildflowers he had been silly enough to send to the door with Hank earlier now graced the room, and the kitchen table was covered with Carson’s journals.

It looked less like the cluttered writing retreat of a brilliant writer and more like a comfortable guesthouse.

“You look like you’re making progress going through the journals,” he said after she handed him a glass of water and filled a bowl for the dog.

“They’re so good. If you end up using all the entries I’ve marked for a collection of essays, you will have to put out more than one volume.”

“You’re really into this.”

“Yes. And I think I found more proof about the missing manuscript.”

She picked up a journal that had been open on the table, flipped to a page she had marked with a sticky note and handedit over. He scanned the words, feeling a pang of loss again as he looked at his friend’s familiar handwriting.

“It’s not definitive proof, but I have to admit it’s intriguing.”

“I would love to discover a missing manuscript. I am not one who believes in a lot of woo-woo stuff, but I almost feel like he wants me to find it.”

She looked embarrassed at her words. “That probably sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? I can’t explain it, but I feel a strange connection to Carson, probably because my mom loved his work so much.”

He found her passion and drive compelling, but he didn’t tell her that. He also couldn’t mention that any connection she felt to Carson might have to do with genetics.

“I need to apply one more coat of varnish to the project I’m working on, then I can come back here and start going through boxes of his papers with you tonight, if you want.”

Her smile widened. “That would be great. Thanks. Why don’t you plan on dinner here? I have some chicken breasts I was thinking about grilling.”

That probably wasn’t the smartest idea. The more time he spent with June, the more time hewantedto spend with her.

He ignored his misgivings. “That sounds great. I’ll bring a salad.”

“Great. I’ll see you this afternoon. Thank you again for the hike. It was exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad. That’s what I had hoped. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He called to Hank, then headed for the door, already anticipating when he would see her again.

The rest of the day passed quickly. After applying the penultimate coat of varnish to the table he was trying to finish, he decided to run into town and pick up more lumber to be used as forms for future projects.

The lumberyard two towns over that he had found offered the best selection was busy with people working on home-improvement projects on a Saturday, and by the time he returned and unloaded the lumber from his truck to his workshop, he only had a quick few minutes to shower and change out of his work clothes.

He was coming down the stairs when his doorbell rang. Hank only lifted his head from his dog bed, not bothering to even bark.

“Some guard dog you are,” he muttered.

He was surprised to find Alison on the other side.

“Hey, you.” He gave her a quick hug. “What brings you out here?”

“I was hoping I could ask you a big favor. Xander and I are supposed to be riding up to Hidden Lake tomorrow. As I was throwing things together, I suddenly remembered our tent got a rip in it last year when Dad and I went on that quick fishing trip before I left to go back to school.”

“Did it?”

“Yeah. The whole zipper came loose on our last night, which means if I take it I’ll be sleeping with every mosquito in Wyoming. Plus, if it rains, I’ll be completely drenched. I’ll never dry out and be miserable the whole time.”

“We can’t have that.”

“Right? I don’t have time to order a new one and every place in town is closed by now. I was wondering if you might have one I could borrow.”

“Of course. It’s in the garage. You can help yourself. You can take anything else you need. Just lock up when you leave.”

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