by Piper Rayne
Phoenix calls everyone to attention and stands on a chair.
“Phoenix, you know how expensive those chairs are?” Rome says.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” She has her phone held up and pointing at us all. The screen is so small, everyone is squinting and leaning in to see what’s on it.
“With what? You don’t have a job.” Rome’s a minute away from blowing up.
Harley comes to his side and kisses his cheek, whispering something that seems to calm him.
“It’s Sedona,” Phoenix says. “She FaceTimed me.”
“Hi, guys!” Sedona waves. “I have Jamison with me.”
Phoenix rolls her eyes.
“Hi!” everyone screams.
“Jamison is back in the picture?” I ask Kingston. He’s the closest in age to the twins, so I figure he’d know.
“I guess he’s playing soccer in New York and they hooked back up.”
I don’t have an opinion on it, but the fact that Phoenix does raises an alarm in my brain. Sedona and Jamison dated in high school when he was a foreign exchange student from Scotland. I never thought anything about the kid, but Rome told me he walked in on them once and he was pretty sure they were having sex. Jamison was respectful and apologized later. Rome gave him a sleeve of condoms and said if she gets pregnant, they’ll be talking.
Everyone shoots them some questions about school, the weather, and Jamison’s soccer career, but Phoenix wraps up the call pretty quickly and steps down from the chair.
“Phoenix really isn’t happy they’re back together, huh?” I say to Kingston.
“I think it’s the twin thing. Maybe Phoenix is in a funk and a little jealous that Sedona is figuring out her life while she’s in a holding pattern.” He pats my shoulder. “I knew a twin like that once when his twin found a wife and purpose and had a couple kids.” He winks and walks away. He sits down next to Phoenix and gets her to smile with what’s probably a joke about one of us.
“Hey, you.” Cleo comes up alongside me. “What are you thinking about?”
“What an idiot I was once upon a time.” I was a complete dick to Rome and Harley when they started out. I look at Cleo as all the dots connect. Rome didn’t want to go out back then. The restaurant and his family were important because he loved them so much.
“Well, all that matters is that you’re not an idiot now.”
“So you agree? I was an idiot?”
She shrugs. “You said it. I didn’t.”
Bringing her in front of me, I bend to kiss her, but right before my lips touch hers, I murmur, “Are you happy, Cleo Dawson?”
A wide, sparkling, earth-shattering smile spreads on her face. “Happiest I’ve ever been.”
I press my lips to hers. When the whistles start from my family, I break apart in an effort not to embarrass her too much.
Rome announces that the meal is ready, and we all sit, passing dishes and talking about our jobs and the news in Lake Starlight. At the end of our meal, Rome presents a cake with a bush plane and “Congratulations, Cleo and Denver” written on top.
I catch Cleo’s eyes soaking in my family. Yeah, they can be a bit much at times, intrusive to an unfathomable degree, but they already love her. If I’m honest, I think I love her too.
Thirty
Cleo
I’m on cloud nine, walking on air, tickled pink, over the moon, and every other idiom that can be used to describe how happy I am in this moment, walking out of Terra and Mare with Denver’s hand in mine.
“Let’s stop by Chip’s and check on the place,” he says.
“Sure.” I’d almost forgotten about the strange things going on over there. I’ve just been in this happy bubble with Denver, and I don’t want anyone or anything to burst it.
He stops me at his truck, pressing my back to the door. “My family loves you.”
“I love them.”
I’ve never had this feeling before. So casual and nothing forced. Just being myself with a group of people who accept me for who I am. It’s like winning the lottery. I’ve been searching for this for so long, and to think my dad is the one who made this all happen. I wasted my time with my mom. I should’ve lived with my dad.
Denver’s knuckles run down my cheek, and his eyes say what his mouth doesn’t. I know because it’s the same thing I feel. But we’ve only been dating for a little over two weeks. It’d be absurd to admit it, right?
We drive the fifteen minutes to my dad’s with our hands interlinked, his thumb lazily grazing mine. The anxious feeling that used to make me nauseated when we’d pull onto my dad’s gravel driveway isn’t there this time.
Until Denver stops the truck at the house. There’s a car parked in front. A car we’re both familiar with. A car we see every day.
“Stay here,” Denver says, keeping the truck on. “If anything happens, just drive away.”
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. Grabbing the keys, I turn off the ignition and get out.
“Cleo, I said stay in the car.”
“It’s Nancy,” I say, storming past him.
He catches up and takes my arm. “At least let me go first.”
I hold up my hands. “Okay, bodyguard. She might actually bake you a cake or something.”
Denver knocks, which goes to show how ridiculous this is. Nancy opens the door with a book in her hand and reading glasses on the tip of her nose. She doesn’t smile but cringes with an ‘I’m sorry’ expression. Denver and I file in, and he heads straight to the back of the house to check things out.
“Hey, Nancy,” I say. Her line of vision is on Denver, and I wave him off. “Don’t mind him.”
He returns with nothing. Of course he does. I feel pretty stupid that I didn’t suspect it was Nancy coming here in the first place.
“Hi, guys.” She puts her bookmark in the book, sets it down next to the chair, and places her reading glasses on top. Then she folds the afghan and places it on the back of the couch.
“So you have a key?” I ask.
She nods.
“And you never mentioned it.”
Denver is still on high alert, almost sliding along the wall to reach me as if Nancy’s going to sneak attack him.
“I heard you say you haven’t been able to come here, so I figured I’d keep it nice for when you thought you could. Plus…” She falls onto the couch and her head drops into her hands. Her back racks from her sobs and hiccups. “I miss him.”
I step forward to approach her, but Denver stops me, shaking his head. Disregarding him, I sit at her side and he blows out a breath like now I’ve done it.
This is Nancy. Sweet Nancy who is grieving. I knew my intuition was right. I should’ve never listened to Denver. Men are blind.
“Nancy, were you and my dad… involved?”
She nods.
“I’m sorry,” I say and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You… know… Chip.”
Actually, I’m not sure I did. A fact I’ve had to make peace with.
“He… just… didn’t like the… goss—ip.”
Denver sits in the chair, probably thinking he should be close in case she pulls out a spatula or something.
“So you guys remained a secret all these years?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“How did you dodge Buzz Wheel?” Denver asks. “You might have a bestseller on your hands there, Nance.”
She laughs although it’s short-lived. Denver does manage to get her to pick up her head and look at us though. “We stayed in a lot. You know no one really bothered Chip much. They were afraid of him.”
I look at Denver, and he nods.
“We went on a lot of trips and stayed away from Lake Starlight.” Denver passes her the box of tissues on the table, and Nancy grabs four at once. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say.
She sits in the corner of the couch, and I tuck my hands into my lap. Ev
en though I suspected, I didn’t see this coming.
“I should have just told you. The first time, I said it was the last time. I just sat here for an hour to feel him, you know?”
I don’t unfortunately.
“Then you guys went on the trip with Griffin Thorne and I knew I didn’t have to worry about you guys coming here. I just wanted to make it nice, like it would have been had we ever…” She doesn’t finish her sentence because a new rush of tears cascades down her cheeks. Obviously, it was Chip who didn’t want to make their relationship public or permanent. “One thing kind of led to another, and I never saw a sign that you’d been here, so I just kept coming and reading. And now…”
I look at Denver, and he shrugs as though he has no idea what to do.
“I talked with Sheriff Miller,” I say.
She nods. “He came by while you guys were up north. He can be discreet when he wants to.”
That worries me a little. It’s his responsibility to tell me. I’m the owner of the property. But then I see Nancy, who’s grieving for a man I’ve yet to shed a tear for. Maybe the sheriff is a good guy who saw a woman hurting and did what he could to help.
“I told him I wouldn’t return, but I knew you were at dinner tonight,” Nancy says.
“You don’t have tracker devices on us, do you?” Denver asks, and I balk. “What? It’s a legit question. She’s had access to our phones.”
Nancy looks hurt, which she should.
“Forget him. He’s still absorbing all this.” I stand and dig inside my purse. When I sit back down, I open her hand. “This place is yours. It obviously means a lot more to you than me.” I tuck my key into her hand.
“No. Chip was clear. He wanted you to have it.”
I look at Denver. I could never start a life here with him. If we move in together on our own, I want a fresh place. “He was wrong. This place is meant for you.”
“No. No. I’ll at least pay you rent. You need the money.”
I shake my head. “No, we have the show coming. We’re going to be fine, and I didn’t think I was ever going to sell this place anyway. I really want you to have it.”
Nancy stares at the key. Although she must have another on her keychain, it’s a gesture on my part to show her that I’m serious. “He loved you, Cleo. I know you doubt that, and I never wanted to break his trust, but he wished he’d done it differently with you. Things with your mother were difficult. He told me so many times he wished he had fought harder.”
I nod. Her words do hold weight. They were obviously close. I lean into the couch. “I think I understand him a little better now. And I know my mom is hard to deal with. Can you tell me the story of how you got together?”
Her face lights up as if I just gave her an unexpected birthday present. Denver stares at me like ‘We’re going to sit here and listen to their love story? Really?’ But when I nod, he leans back in the chair and nods.
I’m sure he’s going to say no to me one of these days.
Nancy talks about how when she interviewed for the job at Lifetime Adventures, there was this sizzle between them. She started the next week, and things progressed slowly from there.
At some point, she switches to talking about my relationship with my dad. How he took a two-week vacation every year when I came up so he could spend time with me. How she wishes she would have pushed him to be more open with about what had gone on over the years behind the scenes, but that wasn’t Chip’s way. All the conversations she overheard between my parents. How one summer, my mom said she wasn’t sending me up, and he put his foot down. How he’d come out of the office sometimes after getting off the phone with me and tell her all about what I was doing.
Her words make me examine my relationship with my dad with fresh eyes and without the resentment that’s weighed on me for years. I realize that he never went too long without calling, and he did text me once I got my first cell phone. I almost chuckle, remembering how he had a flip phone and how long it must’ve taken him to write some of those messages.
“Do you think he really loved me?” I ask, tears threatening.
Denver rushes to my side.
Nancy sits up straighter. “Listen, Chip Dawson had a lot of flaws. I loved every one of them, but I don’t excuse them. One thing I know more than anything in this world is that your daddy loved you. He was just never good at showing it. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting your mom take you to all these different cities with the privilege of money.”
Denver squeezes me into his side as my tears soak his shirt. We sit for a few moments, no one talking before Nancy finally stands.
She picks up a set of storage containers I noticed the first time we were here and places them at my feet. “I don’t want to pressure you, honey, but I think what you’re looking for is in these boxes. Chip never threw anything away, so if you want to know about his life, these papers might give you the closure you’re looking for.”
I stare at the labeled bins.
“Denver and I are going to get some ice cream and give you some time alone. Is that okay?” she asks.
I panic. Stay here by myself?
“If you’re not up for it…” Denver doesn’t stand to meet Nancy at the door.
I suck in a breath, and with as much courage as I can muster, I say, “She’s right, I need to do this.” I grab his hand. “For myself and for us.”
He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m only a phone call away and I’ll race back here. I’m not scared of Sheriff Miller.” He winks. My stomach still flip flops every time he does that.
A minute later, after reassuring Denver I’m not going to run into the woods and freak out, they leave. I wait to hear his tires crunch over the gravel before I lift the lid of the first box, and dig into Chip Dawson’s life.
Thirty-One
Cleo
I’m halfway through the first box when I figure out this might be a two-day job. I’ve found paperwork from when he bought his first bush plane, which he’s sold since. He really has kept everything. But then I find a file folder labeled “University of Indiana.” Why would he have a file on my college?
Opening it on my lap, I find invoices and bills. My dormitory and my tuition. Even a bill for my apartment my junior year. There are copies of checks written to my mom. I thought Phil paid for my college tuition, but according to this, my dad paid it. Why did he never tell me?
Leaning into the warmth of the couch, I absorb the fact that Chip would do that. Surely my mom didn’t make him do it. When Bridget and I started taking our ACTs in junior year and applying to colleges our senior year, Phil said he would take care of my tuition. I’d thought I might be able to get financial aid, but he said he’d think of it as an honor to pay for my college.
Chip had his own organizational system, so I dig for folders labeled with things familiar to me.
After box one, I move on to box two, where he has files for every year of my childhood.
Cleo (one year), Cleo (two years), Cleo (three years).
I pick up the stack and put them on the coffee table, pushing all the other papers aside. My stomach clenches when I see pictures and paid bills. My dance classes at three, paid by Chip Dawson. My karate classes at six, paid by Chip Dawson. My thirteenth birthday, two plane tickets to Hawaii with a cancellation number and refund written on them. I have to assume my mother interfered somehow in that. Pictures of him and me that year when I came up for the summer. Hair saved in my year seven folder from when I took it upon myself to cut bangs. A tooth in my five-year-old folder and a picture of me with my front tooth missing, holding up a dollar bill from the tooth fairy.
“He did love me,” I say.
My prom dress receipt with a copy of a check to my mom. My hands shake as I go through everything he kept. All the keepsakes from my two weeks of every year spent in Lake Starlight, Alaska.
Year fourteen is thicker than the rest, and it’s packed with legal papers. His application for permanent placem
ent of me. The court records and an interview schedule. A ticket to come to Dallas, canceled and a refund code scribbled in his writing. A letter from my mom, stapled as if it was the final closure of the case. She writes that I’m doing so well, thriving. That she’s dating a man who can give me whatever I want. Begging him to let her keep me and she promises him more time. Holidays and longer summer trips.
He must have agreed. But I never spent a Christmas with Chip, so she lied.
After I turned eighteen, the file folders stop. But there’s one last one, labeled with my name and this year. Sensing this will be more sentimental, my heart grows heavy as I open the manila folder.
His will. His account numbers. Pretty much everything the lawyer gave to me. An envelope tucked under it all, with my name on it. How did he even know I’d go through all this stuff?
Before I read this new letter, I pull out the one Luther Lloyd gave me and read it again. I’ve carried it in my purse since I read it the first time, unable to put it somewhere for safekeeping.
* * *
Cleo,
Don’t be mad. Listen to me first. I know you might not understand me leaving half the company to Denver Bailey. You get everything else of mine, because it’s always been what’s mine is yours. But Denver will help you keep Lifetime Adventures running. His knowledge is too great to throw away, and I think if you give him a chance, you’ll see that the two of you could have a great partnership.
I’m not sure why you’ve always disliked him, but I ask you to try to put that aside for the time being. You don’t see it now, but you’re a perfect business pair. I know I’ve shot down your marketing ideas before, but I’m an old cranky man and set in my ways. Invent a new Lifetime Adventures. There’s no limit to what you can do. Get your flying license. Have Denver take you on excursions. I know with hard work and dedication, you’re going to succeed.
I’ve seen you struggling from afar. I’m probably to blame for that. You’re trying to find a spot where you fit in this world. Give Lake Starlight a try, honey. I promise the people are kind and caring and won’t disappoint you like the people closest to you have throughout your life. Don’t fly back to Dallas. Stay a while. Give Lifetime Adventures a chance, and who knows, maybe it will be the adventure of a lifetime for you.