Exactly one minute ago, Kate Robinson had been speeding merrily toward town; one curve in the rutted road later, she was stuck in the mud with her wheels spinning uselessly.
And if that wasn’t a perfect metaphor for her entire life, she didn’t know what was.
She was supposed to be in Los Angeles right now, winning over juries and having brunch with friends—not fetching fertilizer for her grandmother’s peony farm in tiny Lost Harbor, Alaska.
Movement at the side of the road caught her attention. A porcupine trundled toward the trees, half its quills raised in defense mode. She must have startled it with her muddy disaster.
With a sigh, she pressed the accelerator again, just in case something had changed in the past ten seconds. Whir. Spin.
Nope. If anything, the car had sunk deeper into the mud.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been dictating an email as she drove. It was a bad habit from her LA life. When you spent that much time stuck in traffic, you learned ways to use the time productively. Which was better, gridlock or a mud bath? At least with traffic, you knew you’d get moving eventually. On the other hand, the view from this particular mud bath was definitely better than a zillion brake lights.
Spruce trees loomed on one side of the road, and a view of Misty Bay on the other. Against the backdrop of a slate-gray April sky, snowy peaks shone like jagged white teeth. Even though the mountains across the bay still had plenty of snow, at this elevation things were starting to edge toward spring.
This was “break-up” season in Alaska, when the snow melted and the ground thawed, and mud swallowed up everything. Including the old Saab her grandmother Emma was letting her use.
Kate’s phone beeped with an incoming text.
ARE YOU BACK?? How come I had to find out from Jess that you were in town?
The text came from Maya Badger, one of her closest friends. Even though they’d only spent time together during the summers, when Kate’s parents had sent her to stay with her grandmother, they’d bonded immediately and been best friends ever since.
I’m in denial. Sorry. Can’t wait to see you.
Lies. Why the denial?
Long story.
Also, it wasn’t really a story she was ready to tell Maya, who was now the police chief of Lost Harbor, Alaska. She’d have to fudge it, a fact that depressed her. Her and Maya’s friendship had lasted so long because they could tell each other things they didn’t share with other people.
But not this.
Come out with me and Jess tonight. We’re getting out of LH and seeing some live music at the Moose Is Loose.
I’ll try. That did sound fun. Really fun. But she’d have to get airlifted out at this point. Quick question. How do you get a car out of the mud?
How stuck are you?
You know those dinosaurs who got stuck in the tar pits? Like that, except if they had cars.
Calling you.
But apparently she didn’t have quite enough service here for a call to go through. And in the next second, the words “no service” appeared where there had been a measly one bar.
Great. Maybe with her vast police powers, Maya could figure out her location from the signal that had just dropped. She could send help—a tow truck or something.
Or maybe she should see if there was anything she could do herself. Maybe she could push the car out of the mud. She put her hand on the door handle, then remembered that she’d left her mud boots back at the farm. She’d been so excited about a drive to town that she’d put on her cute purple suede half-boots with the chunky heel.
Suede didn’t like mud.
If she was going to free the car by pushing it, she’d have to do it barefoot.
But first—
She picked her phone up again.
Might as well complete that email she’d been dictating while she still remembered the point she was trying to make.
Mr. Boone, my grandmother has unfortunately misled you. I am the owner of the property on Fairview Court. She signed it over to me two years ago when she thought she was at death’s door. I mentioned the requirement about her chickens, and that I take care of them, only as a colorful and amusing detail. The fact that she’s alive and I’m not taking care of her chickens doesn’t change the fact that I am the legal owner of the property. It has no bearing on my