Page 4 of Restored By the Mountain Man
Which is probably for the best.
I pull out my phone and dial my mother's number, knowing this conversation can't wait.
"Mija!" she answers on the second ring. "How did your interview go?"
"I got the job, Ma." Even saying it out loud feels surreal. When my best friend, Laurel had recommended this, no one thought it would really pan out. "I start Monday."
"Monday? This coming Monday?" The alarm in her voice is immediate. "But that's so soon! How will you get everything ready?"
"I'll make it work." I start the car, putting her on speaker as I begin the drive back to Laurel's cabin. "I've got most of my stuff in storage already, and I’m sure Laurel won’t mind mestaying with her a bit longer since she's practically living with her boyfriend now, anyway."
"So you're really doing this," she says, her voice softening. "Moving to this tiny town in the mountains."
"Eden Ridge isn't that tiny. And it's only about three hours from Portland, Ma. Not another planet."
"I know, I know." She sighs. "Your father and I just worry. We hardly see you as it is."
"I'll visit often," I promise. "And you can come see me too. You'd love it here, Ma. The mountains, the fresh air, the pace of life."
"Because of Tom's parents?" She asks suddenly, cutting to the heart of it. "Is that why you're running away?"
My stomach tightens. "I'm not running away. I'm moving toward something."
"They stopped by again yesterday," she continues as if I hadn't spoken.
"What did they want this time?"
"The same things. To talk about the anniversary plans, to ask if you're coming to the memorial service they're organizing." A pause. "They brought more of his things they thought you might want."
Another box of memories I'm not ready to face. Another obligation to perform my grief in the exact way they expect.
"Ma, I love Tom. I will always love Tom." My voice cracks despite my best efforts. "But I cannot keep reliving his death over and over to make his parents feel better. It's been a year. I need to find a way to live my life again."
"I know, Cielito." Her voice softens. "Your father and I just worry about you being alone in a strange town."
"I won't be alone. Laurel's there, remember?" I twist the engagement ring on my right hand, the diamond catching thelight. "And it's a good job, Ma. Using my actual degree instead of just running basic tests on beer."
"Your father wants to talk to you."
Before I can protest, my dad's deep voice fills the line. "Zoe, princess. Are you sure about this move?"
"I'm sure, Dad." I smile despite everything, comforted by his familiar endearment. "This is a good opportunity. The kind Tom would have wanted me to take."
It's the magic phrase, the one that always softens my parents' resistance. And it's true. Tom had always been my biggest cheerleader, pushing me to follow my passion for distillation science even when it meant late nights studying or internships that paid almost nothing.
"Well, if you're certain." Dad's voice takes on that gruff quality that means he's trying not to get emotional. "Just promise you'll visit often. And call. And be careful driving those mountain roads."
"I promise all of the above," I assure him. "I have to go now. I’m meeting Laurel for lunch to celebrate, then I need to head back to Portland and start packing."
After ending the call, I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and take a deep breath. I love my parents, but they don't understand that staying in Portland means being trapped in amber, forever the grieving fiancée, never moving forward.
Eden Ridge offers something Portland can't anymore. A chance to be just Zoe Diaz, Quality Assurance Manager, not Zoe Diaz, whose fiancé died three months before their wedding.
And maybe, just maybe, a chance to remember who I was before grief became my constant companion.
"That's the last box,"Grayson announces, setting a container labeled 'Kitchen Misc.' on the countertop of what's now officially my cabin. His dark hair is slightly damp with sweat, but he doesn't look remotely winded despite having carried most of my heavier items up the stairs.
"Thank you," I tell him sincerely. "You really didn't have to help with all this."
