Page 10 of Huckleberry Hill
“She’s crazier than I am.”
“How’s that possible?”
“Hey,” I said with a laugh. “Be nice.”
“Ready?”
I took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.” I reached for my suitcase so I could carry it down the steps, but Declan beat me to it.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
“Thanks.”
We walked in companionable silence toward the main house. I kept scanning the clearing, but everything was quiet. No sign of the bear.
The early morning sun bathed the mountains and crisp spring air caressed my cheeks. I breathed a sigh of relief at being home.
We passed empty cattle pens, but the smell of churned earth and manure seeped into my nose.
I stepped up onto the porch of the main house and turned the knob of the front door. The aroma of bacon and the crackling of grease in a pan hit me all at once and before I knew what was happening, tears had gathered in the corners of my eyes. I hastily brushed them away, not wanting Declan to see them.
He came in behind me and placed my suitcase in the foyer.
“Dad? Muddy?” I called out.
“Hadley?” Muddy yelled back. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” I confirmed. “Declan’s with me.”
“Hey,” Declan said, announcing his presence.
“Can’t leave the biscuits,” she hollered. “So come on in here.”
Declan followed me into the kitchen. It was beautifully stained dark oak with red and white gingham curtains. Salem had tried to convince Muddy to let her redecorate, but she’d been adamant about leaving everything as it was.
My grandmother was a tall, wiry woman just shy of seventy. Her long gray hair was pulled back into a tight braid that hit the middle of her back and she wore one of my grandfather’s old flannel shirts.
She set the wooden spoon down and quickly enveloped me into a tight hug. “I’m so happy to see you. But aren’t you supposed to be in Italy?”
I glanced at Declan to see his reaction to that announcement, but his face was clear of emotion.
“Change of plans,” I averred, pulling away from my grandmother. “Didn’t you get my message?”
“Message? What message?” Muddy asked as she picked up the wooden spoon and went back to stirring the gravy.
I rolled my eyes. “I called your cell last night. You didn’t answer, so I assumed you’d already gone to bed.”
“I don’t know where my cell phone is,” she said. “It’s also on silent.”
I sighed. “Great. We’ll never find it.”
“Never say never,” she said. “It’s probably in my crocheting chair.”
“I also called Dad last night, and his cell went to voicemail. Where is he, anyway?”
Muddy paused for a moment and then said, “Out.”
“Out?” I raised my brows. “Dad is out? It’s not even seven in the morning.”
