LITMIR.BIZ

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a year or so after you left.”

      I stiffened. So he had got married a mere twelve months after we broke up? There I was calling it puppy love between us, and he’d gone and walked down the aisle with her? Micah had certainly kept that on the down low. And no wonder. Melanie had been my nemesis at school. She’d bullied me and the other gangly girls at school. The archetypal blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheerleader with an added evil streak. How could he have married her?

      “I see,” I said lamely. “So…” Words escaped me. Had I really known him at all? How could he have married the girl who’d made my life hell at school? Many a night I’d lain sobbing in his arms, rehashing something she’d done that day to torment me. Thank God I wasn’t that pushover type any more, the one who bruised easily.

      He sipped his beer and then said, “Yeah, it all happened so fast. Driven by hormones, I suppose. Now Melanie’s moved out of town, and I’m sole parent. You can see how the kids are struggling. They think they did something to warrant her leaving, but she moved away for work, and sees them every other weekend.”

      Was he still pining for Melanie? It was hard to tell, but I thought I could see a trace of hurt in his eyes.

      I changed tack; I’d ruminate about it all later. “So what do you do for a job?” He’d been applying for colleges when I left, and had never been fully decided on what to be ‘when he grew up’, as he dubbed it.

      “I’m a real-estate agent. I was kicking myself that I hadn’t heard about Cedarwood being put up for sale. It was all done cloak and dagger, wasn’t it?”

      I settled back into my seat. The rest of the gang were joking around, playing rock, paper, scissors to settle an argument. “I did wonder why – after all this time lying vacant – it was finally offered for sale,” I said. “What’s the story with the previous owners? Does anyone remember?”

      Timothy shrugged. “As far as I recall, the husband left and she stayed on, but closed the doors to guests. A few years later she moved on and it lay abandoned until you arrived.”

      “But what’s the story behind that?”

      Their faces were blank. Bennie said, “No idea. It’s weird, isn’t it, that no one mentions them?”

      I hadn’t found any of the former owners’ personal belongings. There’d been not even a scrap of paper left behind, only some antique furniture – that was it. Odd, if they’d moved on so hastily. No books, no clothes, nothing. Maybe there was detritus in the basement. I’d have to have a more thorough search.

      “Do you think the town is behind some kind of cover-up?” Micah asked, his voice jocular, but underneath I detected a hint of wonder. Was the tiny town of Evergreen hiding their secret? If so, why, since they weren’t here any more? Why had we never questioned it as kids? It had been dubbed the abandoned lodge and that had been that in our eyes.

      “Well, you have to admit it’s strange for secrets to remain buried in Evergreen,” said Sherri, playing with the stem of her wineglass.

      “Perhaps we should do some digging?” I asked, and held my breath. They didn’t need to know I suspected my mom had some tie with Cedarwood Lodge.

      Bennie piped up, “My mom’s still the head librarian. Want me to see if she can dig up any articles on the previous owners?”

      That wouldn’t hurt, surely? “Could you? It’d be great to have some background about them. I feel a little like I’m babysitting their child, sometimes. And that they’ll come back, disappointed to see how I’ve changed it.”

      “Or maybe you’ll uncover their secrets,” Sherri said, pulling her eyebrows together. “Be careful…”

      “Speaking of secrets,” Timothy said. “Who was that guy you were in town with the other day?”

      “What guy?”

      “Tall, blond, surfer dude.” He kept his voice light but I detected an undercurrent of something more. Was he jealous?

      “Kai. He’s the project manager.”

      Timothy raised his eyebrows. “Right. Good you’ve got some help.” I might have mistaken it, but he seemed relieved. “We sure had some fun, didn’t we?” he said, wistful. “Are our love hearts still visible on the old chestnut tree?”

      The bar was quiet, with only some soft notes drifting from the jukebox. I could easily have been a teenager again, just by swapping the bar scene for the diner down the road. It felt good to be back with my friends, knowing they hadn’t changed. They were still the same big-hearted people… but I missed New York and I missed my old life. Part of me thought that would all become a distant memory as Evergreen swallowed me up. And I’d be all right with that, wouldn’t I? Like Micah said, I wasn’t taking a step back coming home, was I?

      “Yep, our names are still carved on the trunk of the chestnut tree near the lake. First crushes, the stuff of legend.”

      “First love, don’t you mean?” he said, his eyes twinkling. He was giving me the green light – I could read him like a book, but coming home didn’t mean repeating the same old patterns. Not in this, anyway.

      “It was a first, for sure,” I said, remembering he had married Melanie practically five minutes after I left town. Melanie of all people! Had he broken up with me for her? Had he lied, all those years ago? I supposed it didn’t matter now. But in some deep recess of my heart it stung a little, still. “We were so young.”

      Micah shot me a look, one I recognized so well – do you need to be rescued? He always had my back, and could read my nervous tics that no one else even noticed. I shook my head almost imperceptibly.

      “Sherri, how’s the writing going? Should I be stocking up the library room at Cedarwood with your novels?”

      She flashed me a grin. “Well, at the moment I’m busy wallpapering my bathroom with rejection letters, but as soon as I get The Call I’ll let you know, and you can stockpile my novels for your guests.”

      I laughed. A wall full of rejection letters: a nice, healthy, passive-aggressive way of dealing with the failure of something she’d obviously been working so hard for. “Are you still writing fantasy novels?”

      She shook her head. “Nope, I’m writing romance. Bennie seems to think I base every hero on him, and wants to know if we should ‘practice’…” She made air quotes. “…For a scene. The poor fool he is. My heroes would never let their wives do the midnight feed…”

      We all laughed, and Bennie said, “What? I’m being a supportive husband!”

      “Yeah, sure you are,” she laughed. I’ve just had a revise and resubmit, so fingers crossed my latest heaving bosoms bonkbuster gets a yes. Isn’t that what you call my novels, Bennie?”

      “I can’t win,” he grinned.

      Later that night, with sore cheeks from laughter, we said our goodbyes with promises to catch up the following week. I was buzzing from the night and tipsy enough to know I’d sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow – with or without midnight yoga.

      Inside Micah’s car, with the heat blasting, I tried to make sense of my roiling emotions. Being home and seeing my old friends was like slotting back into a cozy pair of jeans. A comfy fit, tried and true. But that feeling of failure still haunted me. It was like part of me thought I had given up without a fight in New York, and that I’d regret it for ever. All those years of hard work, to end up back where I started.

      “Timothy couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Micah said.

      “I know, I felt it like a laser beam.” Sure, my heart had skipped a beat seeing him and my pulse had jangled, but was it because of Timothy or because I was back with people I hadn’t seen in so long, who made me feel good about myself?

      “It was so good to see them. I’d never have guessed

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