8. Soren

8

SOREN

F inley had been living at the house for a week, and everything was going exceedingly well. She was a great roommate, other than her lack of kitchen skills. With neither of us knowing much about cooking, we were resorting to frozen burritos and pizza. Occasionally, Caspian would send over a mistake from the kitchen. Basically, we were eating the same way I always did. Yet it was more fun with someone to share it with.

One Thursday night, we ate frozen burritos and washed down with a bottle of beer while in front of the television. To my delight, Finley had agreed to watch the professional Seattle American football game with me. They were playing San Francisco, our rivals.

Dog was between us, curled up asleep. I hadn't settled on a name, so we'd just been calling him dog, which morphed into Dog with a capital D .

"Do you think it's concerning that he never barks?" I asked Finley. "Not once."

"It is weird. Maybe he's like you, the handsome, silent type."

She thought I was handsome? Silent, yes. That one was obvious. But handsome?

"What? Did I embarrass you?" Finley tilted her head, watching me from her end of the couch—we had regular spots now—with a hint of curiosity mixed with regret in her eyes.

"No, you didn't embarrass me," I said, anxious to reassure her. "It's nice to hear your opinion on all this." I gestured toward my face.

Giggling, she shook her head, obviously relieved. "I'm sure it's not the first time you've heard it?"

"Only dozens of times a day."

"As it should be."

We held each other's gazes for a moment before I looked away, smiling despite my wish to appear nonchalant.

Perhaps wanting to change the subject, Finley lifted a book from a tote bag by her feet and held it aloft. "Look what I found at the library."

Football for Dummies.

I had to laugh. "Have you learned anything?"

"Tons. But it's very complicated, isn't it?" Finley asked.

"Yes, but it all starts to make sense after a while."

"I'll take your word for it."

The television feed switched to commercials, so I lowered the volume.

"What's the other book?" I asked, gesturing to another she'd taken from the bag and put face down on the coffee table.

She flushed and snatched it to her chest. "Never you mind."

I scooted closer. "Show it to me."

"No, it's private."

"Do you have some sex book or something?" I asked, laughing. "Wait, is it Sex for Dummies ?"

"You are not funny. Nor are you a gentleman." Giggling, she tossed the book in my direction. "If you must know."

The paperback was a copy of a book called Rebecca .

"I've read it before, obviously," Finley said. "But I saw it on the ‘staff recommends' table and grabbed it. If only I had a book club like I did back home. A few girls from work and I met once a month to discuss the read and drink wine and eat crisps. I missed that when I went to prison." Her voice grew wistful. "I used to wonder what they were reading. Isn't that weird? Of all the things to worry about missing."

"It was something you enjoyed and looked forward to," I said. "I don't find that strange at all."

"The simple things are what I missed the most. A bath in an actual tub. A walk in the park on a sunny afternoon. Laughing with girlfriends. The way the light would hit the cherry tree outside my flat window in the spring."

The game came back on, saving me from having to respond, which would have been difficult with the back of my throat aching. There was something about this woman that moved my very soul. She was such pure goodness and light. How could a jury have ever thought she was guilty of a violent crime? Or any at all, for that matter?

For the next few minutes, I got lost in the game. When another commercial break happened, I muted the sound and turned to my companion. "What's so great about Rebecca ?"

"It's a great story—romance and mystery, plus a grumpy hero." She tugged the hair tie from her ponytail, letting her locks fall around her shoulders. "You can borrow this library copy if you want to try it."

"I should read more," I said. "But that doesn't sound like my type of book."

"What do you like to read?"

"Mostly thrillers and an occasional Western. At the end of a long day working outside, the moment I pick up a book, I drift off to sleep."

"You could read at other times. I mean, when you're not in bed. Bed should be for sleeping and…well, the other thing." A pink flush worked its way up her neck.

"What about reading Sex for Dummies in bed?" I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. Hopefully, I hadn't just crossed a line.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. You'd have all this knowledge and no one to practice with. Unless, of course, you have someone in mind?" She lifted her gaze, eyes sparkling flirtatiously. Was it flirtation, or was I imagining it? Regardless, my desire for her reached an all-time high.

Good Lord. This little ball of sunshine seemed to be working her way into my heart. Why did it feel so right when I was with her? Doing ordinary things like eating burritos and watching football were elevated with her by my side. What did it mean? At this point, I couldn't say if it was merely my loneliness, or if this was the beginning of something special.

I hadn't fully examined my reasons for inviting her to rent a room. The idea had come out of nowhere—I hadn't put any thought whatsoever to it before it escaped from my mouth. Now that she was here, I had to question my motives. Had there been a part of me that knew I liked her? Was that why her perkiness had annoyed me? Could my irritation actually be attraction? It had been so long since I was interested in a woman, I wasn't sure.

This required a talk with Pop. He would know what to advise. Or at the very least, listen without judgment.

These thoughts passed through my mind in seconds as I sat on my end of the couch, gazing at what was possibly the most beautiful woman in the world. She was waiting for a response to her coy question.

What the heck? Go for it. It was time to stop living in my safe little bubble called Crescent Moon Ranch and take some risks.

"As a matter of fact, I do have someone in mind," I said.

"Yeah?" Finley asked in a husky voice. "Do I know her?"

"Quite well, actually."

"Do I like her?"

"It would be impossible not to," I said. "At least for me. She's pretty, funny, and smart."

"Oh." She bit her bottom lip and looked away. Did she not understand I was referring to her?

"You do know I'm talking about you, right?"

Her face transformed from worried to delighted. "I wasn't sure. I thought so, and then I started to doubt myself."

"Do you want to go out on a date?" I asked. "With me."

"Should we?" Her forehead wrinkled.

"Why not?"

"We're roommates." She hesitated, her chin quivering as if trying not to cry. "If you decide you don't like me at any point, then it could be awkward."

"I doubt that would happen."

"People I care about leave," Finley said. "My heart's tender from all the disappointment I've felt over the years."

"I understand." What I said next surprised me more than it did her. "But what if it's worth the risk?"

She nodded, tugging on a lock of hair near her neckline. "A date would be nice. I'd like that. Even though it's scary."

We smiled at each other, lost in the moment, until Dog lifted his head and barked. We were both so surprised to hear his bark that we simply stared at him for a few seconds.

"I guess he was waiting to weigh in on something important." Finley wrapped her arms around Dog's neck. "Weren't you, old boy?"

Another bark reiterated her theory. As pleased as I was that Dog had found his voice, I was more pleased that she'd said yes.

"Tomorrow? Dinner in town?" I asked.

"I'm in."

We settled back to watch the rest of the game. Who would have thought I'd be more thrilled at the prospect of a date with Finley over my Seattle team beating the pants off San Francisco? I guess an old dog like me could still learn new tricks.

The next afternoon, I drove into town to hit the feed store. The weather had turned icy last night, leaving stretches of the highway slick, thus I drove with my usual caution. My brothers teased me because I drove with safety in mind, but I figured it was better safe than dead. Accidents in this part of the country were common, especially when drivers were not mindful of the weather. I'd lived here all my life, and I knew Mother Nature deserved our respect. She told us everything we needed to know. Problems arose when we didn't listen.

The town of Bluefern was only a speck on a map, but to me, it was home. Over the years, the town had evolved from a small, gloomy community dwarfed by the Rocky Mountains into one exuding charm and nostalgia. Much of the town's betterment could be traced back to my mother and Thad. They'd spent countless hours with the rest of the planning committee to beautify Bluefern. New preserved red and brown brick buildings now hosted flowering pots hung from awnings. A gazebo in a landscaped public park served as a main gathering spot for townsfolk. The barber shop, housed in a cozy brick building with large windows, upon my mother's suggestion, displayed a classic barber pole outside. As I walked by, I waved to a few older men playing checkers in the window. Behind them, our one and only barber, Larry, was in the process of giving a man a shave.

A bright neon sign alerted everyone within a ten-block radius of the diner. Inside, red vinyl booths and a long counter with swivel stools had not changed during my lifetime. I didn't need to go inside to know the dining area smelled of fresh-brewed coffee and maple syrup. When we were boys, Pop and Mama had taken us there for breakfast often.

At the end of the street, our local bar and grill advertised the daily special on a sandwich board placed on the sidewalk. On the edge of town, a white-steepled church stood tall, welcoming all who wished to worship. For a hundred years, our church had been a focal point for community gatherings inside but also in its charming garden. I couldn't begin to count the number of events I'd been to—baptisms, picnics, Christmas concerts, weddings.

Rafferty's medical practice stood a block off the main street. He'd bought the practice from our former town doctor when he finished his residency. I'd been shocked he'd decided to move home. When he left for college, I'd figured he'd never be back. He'd always seemed slightly removed from the community, so intent on making something of himself elsewhere. As it turned out, he was as attached to this place as the rest of my brothers. There was something about Bluefern and our ranch that none of the Moon brothers could resist.

I headed to the library, housed in a stately brick building with large arched windows, in order to return a few books—a manual on tractors and a historical thriller. The moment I stepped inside, the tranquility calmed me. I'd been coming here all my life, and the library had always served as a retreat with its rows of wooden shelves filled with books and cozy reading nooks.

I hesitated at the display of new books, wondering if any of them would be to Finley's liking. Mrs. Foster, our librarian, wandered over to say hello. At seventy, she showed no signs of wishing to retire. She'd been a fixture at our library since I was a child.

"See anything of interest?" Mrs. Foster asked.

"Do you have recommendations for a novel that men and women would enjoy?"

"Light reading or more serious?" She peered at me from behind her glasses, clearly delighted by my inquiry.

I thought for a moment. "I'd say light. Romantic even? Maybe something on audio so we could listen at the same time?"

"We?" Mrs. Foster asked. "Are you in a book club?"

I grew warm, embarrassed to admit that, no, there were only two of us, and it wasn't really a club. "No, not a club. Just a book to share with a friend."

"A lady friend?" The knowing look in her eyes caused me to blush.

"Yes, a friend who happens to be a lady. She likes romantic books, and I like thrillers. Is there anything that meets both those interests?"

"Ah, yes, I have just the thing." She moved over to the audio section and quickly located a copy of the latest John Grisham novel. "You'll both enjoy this, if I were to venture a guess. I only have one copy since it's very popular. In fact, this one was just returned this morning."

"Great, thanks. That'll be fine. We can share it."

"Or listen to it together? With a glass of wine in front of the fire?" Mrs. Foster asked, eyes twinkling.

Ignoring her insinuation, I nodded. "Looks good. I'll take it."

She tapped her fingers against her forehead as if just remembering something. "The latest copy of the Progressive Farmer came today. I haven't even put it out yet, but I can grab it if you'd like to read it now?"

"Normally, I would." I usually came in to read it while enjoying the quiet of the library. "I don't have time today. I'll come by later in the week."

She nodded and took me up to the front, where she checked out the audiobook for me. "Be sure to tell me how you like it. I've heard it's one of his best."

Next, I hit the feed store, located a few blocks off the main part of town. I ordered grain and pellets for the horses and chickens and asked if they could deliver it all tomorrow. Ray, the owner, promised he'd send his boy out in the morning. I'd told Finley I'd stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things, as she was swamped with work, so I headed there next. It was the least I could do. She'd been working her regular job in addition to planning the festival. Basically, she'd been juggling two full-time jobs. Last night when she said good night, the fatigue had shown on her face.

In fact, planning the festival had turned out to be more intense than either of us had thought. This morning, we'd spent an hour haggling with the ice-skating rink company. Finley had surprised me by being a spirited and firm negotiator. Before we hung up, she'd managed to get us a 20 percent discount and promises to deliver it and set it up early next week.

My last stop was the grocery store, occupying a large brick building with wide windows showcasing fresh produce and local goods. The rich scent of ripe apples and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as I approached. Autumn plants and flowers spilled onto the sidewalk, their vibrant colors pretty in the otherwise drab gray day. On my way in, I grabbed a bouquet of orange chrysanthemums, their earthy fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of fallen leaves, to take home to Finley.

Inside, the store was bustling with activity. The muted chatter of shoppers, the soft hum of the refrigeration units, and the occasional clinking of glass jars created a melody of everyday life. I picked up the items Finley had asked for, including bananas and frozen blueberries, their cool surfaces chilling my fingers as I placed them in the basket. She used them in her protein powder smoothie, which she had every morning without fail. Today, she'd convinced me to try one, and I had to admit it was good—the creamy texture and sweet taste of the blueberries were surprisingly satisfying. But I'd had to add a few fried eggs and toast to get me through my morning chores without hunger.

Our local grocery store was small but had most of what we needed. When I had everything on my list, I went through the checkout line. The checker, Sharon, was someone I'd gone to high school with, and I listened politely as she told me how excited her children were for the festival out at the ranch.

"It should be a fun time," I said. "Santa will be there."

"Oh, I know. Will there be a photographer?"

"Should there be?" I asked.

"Mothers will expect it."

"Duly noted. I'll let the head of our planning committee know."

"Who is that?"

"Have you met Finley? She's our guest services manager out at the ranch."

"Oh yeah. Real pretty blonde. She was in earlier." Sharon gave me an odd look. "It was weird. She acted like she didn't know me even though she's in all the time."

That was strange. "Maybe she was distracted? The festival's keeping her busy." She'd been here this morning? I'd thought she had a meeting with someone.

"When did you say she was here?" I asked.

"About an hour ago."

Weird. She'd told me she was chained to her desk all day because it was Thad's day off. Leaving her post was unlike her. She must have had a good reason to come into town. Maybe the meeting had been in town, not at the ranch? But I remembered seeing her car in the garage.

Sharon finished packing up my groceries and waited for me to swipe my credit card. "The kids were devastated when there was talk of the festival being canceled. Folks around here look forward to it every year."

"Don't worry, the Moon family will not let you down."

I hauled my bags to my truck and was about to climb into the driver's seat when I saw Finley walking out of the diner. That was it. She'd most likely held her meeting at the diner. For some reason, I felt relief at figuring out why she'd been to town when I thought she was at the ranch. Someone must have given her a ride. Nothing to worry about. Anyway, it was none of my business. She didn't need my nose in her affairs. My nosy nose. Especially when it came to her. I couldn't help but want to know everything about her day.

Now, I focused my gaze on her. She wore a red coat I'd never seen before and long black boots. Her hair was stuffed into a cap with a ponytail stuck through the opening in the back. That was new. I'd seen her in a knit hat but never a baseball cap. I'd never seen the coat or boots before either. And that definitely was not what she was wearing when she left this morning. She'd been dressed in black slacks and a baby-pink sweater that clung to her slim figure just right.

I stood near my truck, watching as Finley headed toward the street. Was she limping? Had she sprained her ankle? Was that why she'd come to town? To see Rafferty?

Before I could answer my own questions, she got into a small black sedan. Not Finley's car. She drove a silver compact Ford. Or was it Chevy? It didn't matter. All I knew was that I'd never seen her get into a black sedan.

Through the car's window, I saw her take out a cell phone. She peered at it, perhaps reading a text, then started typing rather furiously. Finley never typed that fast. I'd teased her just yesterday about how slowly she typed into her smartphone. She'd said she had a flip phone until recently and wasn't accustomed to the smart version.

Then it hit me as if someone had dropped a piano on my head from an eight-story building.

I was looking at Finley's twin. Danielle Baker had found her sister. Who did not want to be found.

It all made sense now. She hadn't recognized Sharon because it was Danielle, not Finley. The car must be a rental. Finley was probably back at the ranch in the middle of her meeting.

Hands shaking, I got into my truck and pulled out of the parking lot. How was I going to tell Finley that Danielle was in Montana?

Questions flooded my mind. How had the evil twin found Finley? Did she know exactly where she worked and lived? What the heck did she want?

And, lastly, how exactly was I going to tell her?

Waiting for Finley to come home, I paced around the house. Dog, recovering nicely, followed me until he grew tired and curled up in front of the fireplace for his afternoon nap.

Not surprisingly, my pacing had not given me any ideas about how to approach Finley with whom I'd seen in town. I still had no idea how to tell her, only that I must. Around three, I heard the back door open and close.

I met her in the doorway of the mudroom as she shrugged out of her pale pink puffer jacket and hung it on what had become her hook. Years ago, Mama had installed seven hooks, one for each of the Moon family's jackets. In the last few months, one by one, they'd been stripped of their owners' jackets until mine was the only one. Now, Finley's hung side by side with mine. Seeing them there hanging together gave me a strange feeling as if they were supposed to do exactly that.

She turned to see me standing there. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," I said. "But I need you to come sit down with me. I have something to tell you."

She paled but followed without question. Soon, I had her sitting in her usual spot on the family room couch. My instinct told me to grab her hand and hold it while I spoke, but I wasn't sure that would be welcomed, so I kept them to myself.

"What is it?" Finley asked. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yes, everyone's fine. I'm fine." I drew in a deep breath. "I have something to tell you that's going to come as a shock. I'm going to just say it bluntly. I saw your sister in town earlier today. She looks just like you, as you know, obviously, and at first I thought she was you, and I couldn't figure out why you were wearing a baseball cap when I'd never seen you in one." I stopped, more because I was out of breath than anything else. Had I ever said that many words in a row? I doubted it. Miss Sunny was starting to rub off on me.

The color drained from her face. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," I said.

She covered her mouth with both hands and spoke between her fingers. "How did she find me?"

Since it was obvious she wasn't truly asking the question of me I didn't answer, simply moved closer, contemplating what to do to help.

"What did she look like? What was she doing?" Finley asked, voice cracking. She dropped her hands into her lap, twisting her fingers together.

I did my best to describe Danielle to her, making sure to tell her every detail I remembered. Mama always told me women liked to know things that men wouldn't necessarily care about.

"There's no way she's here for any other purpose but to see me," Finley said. "She must want something. Money, mostly likely."

"And you haven't heard from her all this time?" I asked.

"Not since she robbed the bank and disappeared. She must be desperate if she came all the way over here. Although she can't need money if she could afford to fly here. I'm at a loss."

"What do you want to do? I'm here for you. I'll do anything you wish."

"I don't know. I have to see her. Find out why she's here." She continued, thinking out loud more than conversing with me. "But I can't let myself feel any hope whatsoever that she's here for any reason other than to exploit me. She let me go to jail for something she did. I can't forgive her for that. I don't even want to. Still, she's my sister. If I don't allow her access to me, she'll just find a way. I'd rather confront her on my own terms."

"Do you want to go into town? We can look around for her."

"She must be staying at the motel," Finley said. "Where else would she be, right?"

"Good point. I can take you there. If you want company?"

"I do, actually." She reached out and placed cold fingers on my wrist. "Thank you."