Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(8)

Early the next morning, Kaylee decided to take a walk. There was a small coffeepot in her casita. She brewed a cup and then stepped outside. There were a couple of chairs just outside her front door, so she sat in one. Everything was bright and clean, the air much clearer and sharper than at home. She saw Mel walk to the house next door with her children and within moments she was walking back home. She gave Kaylee a wave before disappearing into the house. A few minutes later she saw Jack’s truck driving down the road away from the house, both Jack and Mel inside.

So the day begins for the people of Virgin River, Kaylee thought. Jack was probably going to the bar, though it was quite early. She left her coffee on the ground by her chair and took a leisurely walk down the road, enjoying the sight of fog nestled in the valley as the chill ran up her back and arms.

I can do this, she thought. I can breathe in the cool morning air, wake up to the mountainous beauty, wave to the neighbors, and then I will get to work.

She showered, sat in the only chair in the room, feet propped up on the end of the bed, laptop balanced on her thighs, and she opened up the document. She had left off on page seventeen. She reread from page one as she had a billion times before and hadn’t even gotten to page seventeen when her mind began to wander. She thought of going to lunch with her mom and maybe a girlfriend or two, hers or her mom’s, it didn’t matter. She thought of shopping trips, always quick ones since neither of them liked to diddle over the racks. She thought about those nights neither had plans and they’d binge-watch some new series. And they often read the same book at the same time, cautiously discussing without spoilers until both had finished. Kaylee loved doing that.

There was a time a few years ago when Kaylee had to attend a conference cocktail party and had nothing to wear. She wanted to look good. Not only would other writers be there but also publishers, agents, editors and booksellers. Meredith had said, “You need just the right little black dress.” And Meredith needed one, too, for an entirely different event. They wore the same size but their age differences and therefore style preferences precluded sharing a dress. Off they went to one of the better stores in LA. Better meant middle range, because they were hardly Rodeo Drive shoppers, but this called for something more upscale than the mall. Neiman Marcus, they thought. Or Nordstrom.

They loaded the appropriate dresses on their arms, chose neighboring dressing rooms that opened into a large viewing area with several mirrors. Kaylee’s first choice hugged her butt like it was three sizes too small while Meredith’s emphasized her belly. The next two were almost the opposite—Kaylee suddenly had a belly and Meredith looked all hips and butt. The next one for Kaylee looked more suited for a ninety-year-old attending a wake while Meredith had one fit for a seventeen-year-old.

“You need Spanx,” Kaylee told Meredith. “I’ll have the saleslady get one.”

And it went downhill from there with them dying of laughter at the sight of Meredith trying to pull on the body shaper and then Kaylee trying to help her tug the girdle up. Neither got a dress that day but they did have wine with lunch, continued the laughter and vowed to try again in a week.

Kaylee was laughing out loud at the memory, but tears were running down her cheeks as well. When she thought of Meredith, that sort of thing happened. So many good times, lost.

“Oh, Jesus,” she muttered, wiping her cheeks.

She remembered that Mel said something about grief never getting smaller but how her world could get bigger. She wasn’t sure how that was done, but it was time to try. After she considered it for a few minutes she slid her laptop into her shoulder bag and headed for her car. She’d drive into Virgin River, which you could miss if you blinked, maybe have another coffee and whatever breakfast sandwich Jack offered. She’d try to write at the bar for an hour. Before her mom got sick Kaylee used to go to a coffee shop or a neighborhood restaurant called Carlisle’s where she could have a glass of wine and a New York–style pizza slice. She felt less like she was in detention if she wrote for a while in a coffee shop or bar.

As she walked to her car she heard the smallest peep and slowed her steps. She looked up first. Then down. Right there by her front tire was the tiniest black-and-white kitten. What was a person to do? She scooped it up in her hands and instinctively held it close to her cheek. “Aww. You are lost, little one.” She wasted a good ten minutes looking around for more kittens or at least a mother, but this guy was alone.

And then she did the one thing everyone cautioned against. She took him into her casita and gave him a bowl of milk and told him she’d be back in an hour or so.





* * *



“Well, well, Kaylee Sloan, just the person I wanted to see. I was going to give you a call a little later,” Jack said as she walked in the door.

“Do you need the casita sooner?” she asked.

“Nah, you’re fine. But I talked to an agent who leases rentals. Her name is Gloria, very nice lady, and she’s going to see what they have. I gave her your number. She’ll probably be calling soon.”

“Oh, thank you! Um, did you lose a kitten?”

“A kitten? No. A kitten?” he repeated.

“Cutest thing, all by himself. Or herself. I don’t know much about cats.”

“How big is this kitten?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“He could fit in a cup,” she said. “Black and white.”