Friends and colleagues were in awe of all she’d been able to accomplish. After her younger sibs had survived their teen years, she’d helped her sister, who was married to a marine who had been wounded in Iraq and had lingered in a vegetative state for years in a nursing home before he died. She’d gotten her younger brother through college and medical school. And during this time she’d built herself a sterling reputation as an attorney in a very successful firm. The local paper wrote some sappy article on how she was one of the most amazing and desirable single women in the city—the head of a household that depended on her, brilliant in tax and estate law, gorgeous, clearly the woman to catch.

It had made her laugh. She could count on one hand the number of dates she’d had in a year—all of them horribly dull.

Erin had accomplished what she’d set out to do. Her little sister was remarried to her late husband’s best friend, had moved into her own home in Chico and was pregnant with her first child. Her younger brother had completed medical school with honors and was an orthopedic resident in Southern California, a tough five-year residency that rarely let him loose. Drew was twenty-seven and lived with his fiancée; he would be a family man in another year.

Erin had fulfilled a great deal by the age of thirty-six; for herself and her brother and sister, this was exactly what she had worked so hard toward. Why, then, did she still feel like something was missing in her life?

Was this how it was supposed to feel when your life was really just beginning? Uncertain and as wobbly as a newborn fawn? Or was this, as she sometimes feared, the end of the road? Nothing much to strive for now? She felt more like a grandmother to Marcie’s expected baby than an auntie. She was a bit panicked and didn’t know where to turn. But of course, Erin had the best poker face in the profession of law and never let it show.

Marcie’s new husband, Ian Buchanan, had left behind a dump of a cabin that he held on to when he’d moved off the mountain and back to Chico with Marcie. Erin had seen it. It was a disgusting little shack with no central heat, no indoor plumbing, a small gas generator for a little lighting, and it was only one room. But it was on its own mountaintop and had hundreds of acres with a magnificent view. Marcie and Ian loved it. Though they admitted they’d love it a little better with indoor plumbing and electricity, which they could never afford, but that mountaintop was priceless.

Erin had a little money; she’d been working hard, plus she’d guarded and invested what her father had left in retirement, insurance and savings. She’d gotten bonuses from the firm and an impressive salary—all that had helped her get the kids through hard times and school. She thought it might be worth the investment to raze the old cabin and rebuild something nice—a summer place that could be in the family for decades. But Ian said, “Believe it or not, Erin, the cabin is solid. It could probably use a new roof, bathroom and electricity, but it’s in pretty good shape otherwise.”

So she asked him if she could have an engineer look it over and maybe fix it up. She didn’t say, Because I can’t stay even a weekend in that hovel. The way Ian had smiled at her when he replied, “Knock yourself out,” indicated she didn’t have to say it.

It turned out that Ian was right—the cabin was ugly, but well built. She got some remodel designs off the Internet and put the job out for bid to four local builders. A man by the name of Paul Haggerty gave her a competitive price, was able to work via e-mail and phone, and was willing to sign a contract promising the remodel ready on June 1 when Erin wanted to move in. And he had finished early!

She never even drove up once to look at the progress. That alone should have told her she was doing this for all the wrong reasons and it wasn’t going to work. But she had told Mr. Haggerty, “I’m a busy attorney with a full schedule until the first of June. Then I’m taking the summer off, my first vacation in over ten years. That’s why it has to be right and on time.”

It had been a crazy idea. Erin couldn’t seem to function without a full schedule and she didn’t know how to take time off. Every time she tried to take a day off, she was twitching by noon.

But she was determined. She was going to learn to unwind, damn it. She was going to learn to embrace solitude and kick this feeling that if she didn’t have far too much to do, she wasn’t worthy.

“Knock, knock,” she heard a small voice say. Erin had the curtains drawn around her bed to block out the hysterectomy patient and her extended family. The curtains parted and her redheaded sister’s smiling face popped in. “Are you decent?”

Erin sat up in the hospital bed. “What are you doing here?”

“The E.R. nurse called me—you named me as your next of kin. Y’know?” Marcie let herself into the tiny space. She bent close and narrowed her eyes at the bandage on Erin’s forehead. “Hmm. Not so bad,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“Ugly,” she said, plucking at the gown. “And I have a headache.”

Marcie laughed at her. “Not such chichi hospital attire, huh? I meant the head wound doesn’t look too bad. Small bandage.”

“Shaved head!”

“Less than a half inch, Erin. Take it easy, it’ll grow right back.” Marcie sat on the end of the bed and ran her little hands over her big, pregnant tummy. “Your doctor said if we spend the night with you tonight, we can check you out and take you home. I thought that was reason enough to drive up. I knew you wouldn’t want to be in the hospital. Have you ever been in a hospital? Like, in your life?”

“There was Bobby,” Erin said, speaking of Marcie’s late husband. “Lots of hospital time there.”

“I meant, as a patient, Erin!”

She rolled her eyes upward, thinking. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so. Good thing, too. It’s very boring and like being an inmate.” She plucked at the gown again. “The nurses don’t like me, I can tell. And can you believe this? They haven’t graduated to anything better than this for patients? For God’s sake!”

Marcie just chuckled.

“Are you feeling all right?” Erin asked her little sister.

“Great. I’m sorry you got hurt, but I can’t wait to see the cabin. I hope it’s not too froufrou. I liked the old place.”

“Guaranteed you’re going to think it’s too froufrou,” Erin said. “It’s completely livable, unlike before. There are lights and everything. Where are my clothes?”

“I’ll find them. Don’t get up.”

“Where’s Ian?”

“He’s at the nurses’ station, getting your release instructions. I think we mainly have to check to be sure you’re still breathing about every seven minutes throughout the night. You’ll be a completely cooperative patient, won’t you?”

“Just get me out of here,” she said. “They were going to have to hit me in the head again just to keep me here another hour.”

“I think Ian was right.” Marcie found Erin’s folded clothes and shoes stuffed in her bedside chest of drawers along with her purse. “We’re not so much rescuing you as the nurses. I bet you’re no fun, as patients go.”

Marcie drove Erin home to the cabin in her big SUV and Ian followed in his truck. He was impressed with the way the cabin looked, amazed by the impossible transformation. Very classy; very Erin. “God above,” he said in a whisper. “When I was thinking of fixing it up, I was thinking in terms of adding a septic tank for a toilet. Look at this place!”

“But do you like it? Do you really like it? The rug is an Aubusson, the leather furniture is Robb & Stucky, there’s a whirlpool tub and what do you think of the fireplace?”

Ian didn’t know from Aubusson or any Robb whomever. He stared out the newly installed French doors in the kitchen. Right outside the west end of the cabin was a deck that stretched the length of the house, taking advantage of the awesome view. “Incredible, Erin. Can we use it sometime?”

She looked shocked. She blinked. They didn’t want to be there the same time as she was? “I thought…we’d all use it, now and then,” she said cautiously. “I mean, I didn’t want to wait to fix it up a little because I was taking vacation this summer, but, Ian, it’s your cabin. I think I have to ask your permission, not the other way around.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “When I married Marcie, I married the family, Erin, and what’s ours is yours. You don’t have to ask permission.” He turned full circle, looking around. “I can’t believe you completely remodeled the whole place by e-mail! It’s amazing!”

“I’ll be sure and ask if you’re already using it before I make any plans,” she said.

“He was kidding,” Marcie said. “Ian, you’re such a dork. We’ll all come together. And when Drew visits, he can sleep in the shed.” She grinned.

“But you like it?” Erin asked again.

“I think it’s great,” he said. “You made it beautiful.”

Marcie did a lot of oohing and aahing, and Erin seemed to puff up from that. “I don’t know how I made it without a real kitchen for so long,” Ian said, opening the refrigerator door. When he’d lived here, there was a sink with a pump handle and he’d cooked on a Coleman stove. His mind-set and the emotional landscape of his life back then had been all about deprivation. It hadn’t been so much a form of self-punishment as a paring down of baggage. The less he could make it on, the more competent he felt. It had been like an endurance test. And he had passed with flying colors; he had endured like crazy.

Erin had been here almost a week. In the refrigerator he found yogurt, cottage cheese, egg substitute, skim milk, a loaf of thinly sliced low-cal bread, salad fixings, celery and carrot sticks, apples, cheese singles, tofu and hummus. His stomach growled; he wondered if it made her feel more competent to starve to death.

For the hundredth time he asked himself what was really up with Erin, this isolation on the mountaintop, because this whole “well-deserved vacation” story just didn’t add up. Not with Erin.

“Let me cook tonight, okay?” he said. Both women agreed that would be wonderful. So he continued, “Tonight I’m cooking something Preacher whipped up. I’m going to run into town and grab dinner.”

“Um, I’m watching my calories,” Erin said unnecessarily. “Does he make anything kind of, you know, low cal?”

Preacher was the cook at Jack’s bar, and he made one thing every day. Well, one breakfast item, one lunch item, one dinner item. Preacher did what he pleased, and it was always fantastic but none of it was low cal. “He’s very conscientious that way,” Ian fibbed, and his wife tilted her head toward him, making a face that said shame on you.

Ian was dying for food. Real food, not rabbit food. But then, he could hardly blame Erin; she hadn’t been expecting company.

“You girls enjoy your visit,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.” And he headed for town.

When he walked into the bar, Jack greeted him enthusiastically. “Hey, stranger! Long time. You and Marcie up for a little visit?”

“You could say that,” Ian said. “We weren’t planning to come up so soon after Erin got here, but she had a little accident.”

“You don’t say? What happened?”

“Freak accident, I guess. She stood up too fast, whacked her head on the deck railing, knocked herself out. Cold.”

Jack whistled. “And called you to come up?”

“Nah, the hospital called us. They said she was fine, they didn’t expect any problems, but since she was living alone out at the cabin with no phone, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. You know—just in case. They said they’d release her if there was someone to pick her up, drive her home and spend the night with her.”

“So you rescued her. Nice brother-in-law.”

Ian grinned largely. “No, Jack. We rescued the hospital. Erin can be a little high maintenance sometimes. Can I have a cold beer?”

“Absolutely.” He drew a draft and put it on the bar. “You know, Ian, when something like that happens, you can always call me or Preacher. We’d have found someone to take care of her for you.”

“Thanks, Jack. I kind of figured that, but Marcie would’ve been jumpy all night, having no contact with her sister. Her hormones are a little wonky right now. You know?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, I’ve been there. How’s she doing?”

“Great, she’s doing great. We’re having a boy in August. She’s gorgeous, kind of in the way a toothpick that swallowed a pea is gorgeous. A toothpick with wild red hair.”

“And you?” Jack asked. “How do you like the cabin?”

“I think Paul outdid himself. I can hardly believe it’s the same place. Any chance you’ve seen it?”

Jack smirked. He gave the bar a wipe. “Pal, this is Virgin River. It’s what we do on Sundays after church—drive around and walk through new construction and remodels in progress. ’Course, we needed a guide with a key for your place…. Paul took us through a couple of times, hope you don’t mind. He’s real proud of that fireplace and the deck.” Jack whistled. “You gotta be asking yourself how you lived without that deck.”

Ian laughed. “If I’d even thought of some of those improvements, it would’ve been years before I could’ve made ’em. It took someone with Erin’s resources to pull off a job like that.”