She was quiet for a moment. “Really?” she finally asked.

He nodded. “She’s been so worried about you since your mom died. If you could be nice to her, I’d appreciate it. Every time I see her I think it might be the last time. You don’t have to pretend, but if you could just treat her extra nice, maybe call her Gram like you used to, I think it could make her feel good. I’d take it as a personal favor.”

Again, the quiet. And then she said, “I could do that. But there’s a condition…”

“Ferrari? Porsche?”

She giggled. “I want to see the lake where the geese are. But we’re staying in the truck.”

“Done,” he said. “Thanks, Court.”

Lief’s mother had been expecting them; she was ready for them. “I’m so happy, so happy,” she said, embracing first Courtney and then Lief. “I think people will come by later, just to say hello, then come back tomorrow for turkey.”

“Fantastic,” Lief said. Then his dad came tottering into the kitchen, his newspaper in one hand. If his dad was in the house, the newspaper was attached to his hand. “Dad,” Lief said, pulling him in for a hug. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Good. Pretty good,” he said. Then he peered at Courtney. “Well, young lady,” he said.

“Well yourself,” she answered. But she granted him a smile.

“He has the arthritis,” Lief’s mom said. “Both knees, both hips.”

“Ain’t much,” Gramp said. “Picked too dang many potatoes, I guess. That’s what I get for my trouble—arthritis.”

“Are you hungry? We could make up some sandwiches.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Ate in the car. Snacked all the way, in fact. Court?”

“Nah. Thanks anyway.”

“Well, then, pour yourself some coffee. Courtney, there’s sodas. I best get back to this baking, get it all done so I can concentrate on the bird tomorrow.”

“Aren’t the girls bringing things?” Lief asked, referring to his sister and sisters-in-law.

“Sure, sure, they bring. They want to bring it all, but what sense does that make? What am I going to do with myself if they bring it all? I do the bird, the bread, and decided I wanted some cookies on hand for the little ones. Son, go get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m going to bring our bags in first,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a big butcher block work island in the kitchen that was probably as old as she was, and she stood there, her hands in a bowl full of dough. Courtney stood opposite her. “What kind of bread?” she asked.

“Just my basic sweet dough. Nothing so fancy. I’ll make some rolls, couple of loaves, maybe put some aside for cinnamon rolls for breakfast…”

“Did you ever make a twisted French loaf?” Courtney asked.

Gram looked up. “Don’t know that I have, Courtney.”

“Want me to show you how?”

Surprised quiet hung in the air. Finally Gram said, “That would be so nice.”

“Well, I can’t remember how long to bake it,” Courtney said, dipping into the flour canister to sprinkle some flour on her work space. “And I’ll need a beaten egg for the glaze.”

Gram pushed the dough toward Courtney and went to the refrigerator. “We can figure out the baking time,” she said, getting out an egg. She cracked it in a bowl and beat it with a fork.

“And do you have a brush? It’s best to brush it on.”

“Course,” she said. “Let me watch how you do that.”

So Courtney kneaded and rolled out her three strips, like three fat snakes, then carefully braided them while Gram watched. She sealed the ends and had a perfect braided loaf.

“I declare, you’re gonna make yourself into a baker!” she said. Then she pushed the beaten egg and a brush toward her.

“We have to put on a cookie sheet first, and that’s the hard part. Sometimes it wants to fall apart.”

“Greased sheet?” Gram asked.

And Courtney remembered how Kelly had done it. “Yes,” she said. And a moment later she slipped her small hands under the loaf and transferred it. Then she brushed the top with the egg glaze. “There we go.”

“As I live,” Gram said. “Aren’t you the clever one. That’s so pretty. Should we make us one more?”

“Sure,” Courtney said.

“Then we best get on the cookies.”

“I don’t actually know how to make cookies. Just the kind you buy in the tube, already made, and put on the cookie sheet or in the microwave.”

“Pah, we want the real thing,” Gram said. “Let me get my file out. If you can read, you can cook. I didn’t know you had an interest in baking.”

Courtney shrugged. “I really don’t. I just picked up a few things, that’s all. Besides, there’s nothing on TV anyway.”

“That’s a fact,” she said. “Nothing on that box worth watching day or night. Not unless you like those asinine real-life things.”

“You mean reality shows?” Courtney asked.

“Asinine, if you ask me. People shouldn’t be watching other people while they’re just living their lives or trying to solve their problems. And the very idea you choose a husband or a wife on the television! The very idea! What happened to acting? If there isn’t acting in it, I can’t be bothered.”

Courtney laughed at her.

“Now, let me see—I think peanut butter and chocolate chip,” Gram said. “Does that work for you?”

“Works for me. But there’s rolls to do.”

“We’ll do ’em first. Let’s make another one of them French things.”

“You got it, Gram,” Courtney said. “I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this. We’re going to be busy all day.”

“Well, kiddo, that’s the way I like it. Busy all day. Now you tell me when you get hungry and we’ll take a break and eat something.”

“I’m kind of looking forward to the cookie dough,” she said. “Besides, don’t you and Gramp eat at about four o’clock?”

“Not quite that early,” she said. “That’s for the old folks. I’d say more like four-thirty.”

Courtney laughed. “You can make it all the way to four-thirty?”

“You wait till you’re eighty, young lady. You won’t be able to keep awake for those late meals like you used to.”

“I guess that is just around the corner,” Courtney teased.

And so they baked all afternoon. Then at exactly four-thirty they had a macaroni-and-cheese casserole with ham along with some sliced tomatoes and asparagus. Then after dishes, Aunt Carol, Lief’s sister, dropped by without her husband, just to say hello, and right behind her came Uncle Rob and Aunt Joyce. They didn’t stay long, just long enough for some pound cake and coffee. And sure enough, by eight o’clock, Gramp was nodding off in his chair with his newspaper in his lap and Gram was still banging around in the kitchen. Courtney and Lief were watching TV. Sort of.

“I think I might be able to stuff down another piece of that pound cake,” Lief said, heading for the kitchen.

Courtney thought maybe she’d eaten more today than she’d eaten in a month, but she stood up and followed him anyway. Before she got to the kitchen she heard him say, “Mom, Mom, what’s the matter?”

Courtney just waited outside the door. “Old women,” Gram said with a self-recriminating sniff. “Sentimental old fools…”

“What happened?” he asked. “Did you get your feelings hurt or something?”

“Hurt? Mercy, no! I got ’em restored! I was so afraid I was gonna die before I saw that sweet child come back to her joyous self. Lord be praised!”

“What’s this talk about dying? Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked gently.

She laughed through her tears. “Lief Holbrook, I’m feeling eighty! I could be gone by morning.”

Courtney could hear him hugging her. “I think you’ll make it till morning.”

“You better hope so. I’m in charge of the bird!”

Thanksgiving day in Silver Springs, Idaho, was a full house, though not all the Holbrooks could be there. Some nieces and nephews of Lief’s who were grown, married and living in other states didn’t come, but there was still a full table. These old-fashioned country folks liked to set two tables, one for the grown-ups and one for the children. A major rite of passage was moving from the little people table to the big people table; this year Courtney sat with the adults.

People seemed happy to see her; that was a relief. She saw the lake and there were even some geese on it, a stopover on their way south. Cousin Jim’s farm hadn’t changed but he did have some new animals—a couple of geldings he’d taken off a neighbor’s hands when the neighbor’s farm sold. Not ones she felt ready to ride. Lief went hunting early on Friday morning and again early on Saturday morning, both times with his brothers and brother-in-law. They stayed mostly on the farm—plenty of ponds and lakes nearby. He got himself two ducks, both of which he cleaned and put on ice to take back to Virgin River with him.

She texted Amber all weekend. Sounded like Amber’s holiday was just about the same—older brothers, younger nieces and nephews, lots of people at the farm.

On Sunday they headed home. Gram made them coffee, turkey sandwiches, cookies. They didn’t leave at the crack of dawn, but rather after a good breakfast. And the first couple of hours of the drive was pretty quiet in the car.

“I was real impressed with your behavior, Courtney. Thanks.”

She sighed. “I don’t know why we can’t just live there. It’s not like she’s getting any younger, you know?”

“I know,” he said. “I’m going to have to make it a point to go more often.”

“Why can’t we just live there? Near family?”

“Well, I thought about it, but in the end I decided I didn’t want to get too far out of California, since I still will probably have to go to L.A. now and then. I still have occasional meetings for scripts. I found a house I thought we’d like and just made a decision.”

“There are airports. What if we made a new decision?”

“Moved to Silver Springs?” he asked. “I like where we are. And you’ve gotten along pretty well.”

“Is it about Kelly being there?” she asked.

“I like Kelly, you know that. And to be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever meet a woman I’d like. But also, I don’t know what her future plans are. When she got here, she planned to stay awhile, then find a position in a restaurant. That she didn’t want to live with her sister forever, was practically the first thing she said, so I can’t say I’m staying in Virgin River because of Kelly. Look, I don’t think we should move to Idaho, but I think we should go back to visit more often. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever.”

Twelve

Lief had never done so much texting in his life. In his parents’ house with the paper walls and with Kelly’s cell phone reception in Virgin River iffy at best, he didn’t want to talk on the phone, say personal things and be overheard by Courtney. His parents were half deaf, but Courtney had inhuman hearing. So he shot Kelly message after message. Sometimes she shot them right back, sometimes they came a bit later. He felt like a kid, secretly texting during class. At least there was communication, but he wasn’t sure how this younger generation could stand it—it was so unsatisfying.

On Monday morning he made coffee, put the cooler with the ducks in it in the back of the truck while Court was in the shower, ate a bowl of cereal and looked at his watch fifteen or twenty times.

Which didn’t escape Courtney’s notice.

When he dropped her off at school she said, “Bet I know what you’re going to do today.”

He hoped she didn’t see the dark stain on his cheeks. “I’m going to take the ducks to Kelly. Unlike you, she gets very excited about ducks.”

“Eww,” she said. “Gross.”

So, the old Courtney was back. Well, he hadn’t expected charming Courtney to last forever. But that wouldn’t keep him from being grateful she’d obliged him with his mother and from knowing she was capable of being sweet when she wanted to be.

He drove a little fast to the Victorian, didn’t bother with the cooler containing the ducks, but gave two short knocks and opened the back door. Kelly turned from the sink at the sound. The air between them crackled. His heart beat a lot faster, just looking at her, those rose lips, pink cheeks, thick blond hair. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

She smiled. “Denny’s not coming to work today. Jill and Colin went to Redding for art supplies.” She swallowed.

Then she ran into his arms, shoving his jacket off his shoulders. Her lips met his lips, her arms clasped his neck. Her mouth opened under his, tongues tangled, breathing quickened, and he could feel her heart thud in her breast. “God, I missed you,” he said.

“It was the longest holiday weekend I’ve ever spent,” she said.

He lifted her, and her legs went around his waist, his hands holding her up under her butt. He laughed against her opened lips.

“Funny?” she asked.

“I guess we can’t do it on the table,” he said. “Or against the nearest wall.”