A Promise of Fireflies (21 page)

Before entering the highway around the lake, she slowed to a stop. Reaching across the seat, she lifted the lid of the cigar box. The metal tinkled as she placed the chain around her neck and pressed the dog tag to her chest. A symbol of a father lay close to her heart. Closer now than the two would ever be.

She tucked the dog tag inside her hoodie and continued along the lake route. Her thoughts crisscrossed through the mesh of information Ambrose had given her, but she scoffed at the ridiculous idea Nat would be waiting for her as she pulled into the parking area of the Brook Hollow Inn. Ambrose was a lot of things (and he certainly saw more with one eye than most did with two) but psychic wasn’t one of them.

Ryleigh got out of the Tahoe and headed for her room. A car door slammed. She looked up to see a tall, rather angry and very familiar woman stomping toward her.

“Ryleigh Michele Endicott Collins, where in hell have you been?”

“Nat!” Ryleigh gasped. “You scared the crap out of me. What’re you doing here?”

Natalie’s frustration matched her long strides. “I scared
you?
”

“I said not to worry.”

“I wasn’t the one sobbing.” Outstretched hands slapped her thighs. “I wasn’t the one who hung up without warning and wouldn’t answer their phone. Worried, hell. I was frantic.”

“I’m fine.”
How did Ambrose know?

They stood face to face. “Fine? You couldn’t even talk to me. I had no clue what was happening. What was I supposed to do? Leave you here alone?” Natalie locked her in a hug, their faces pressed cheek to cheek. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Complete resignation dissolved her defenses, and Ryleigh melted into the comforting embrace. Natalie had always had that effect on her, like a child who has fallen but feigns bravery and doesn’t give in to tears until they see their mother. The tears began slowly, building to a crescendo of deep sobs, one by one falling onto the shoulders of the one person who could share the burden.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

They clung to each other, the wind whirling around them in stinging gusts.

“It’s freezing.” Ryleigh pulled away. “Let’s go inside.”

The two women, who shared everything from ice cream to cooties, crossed the threshold of a small room more than two thousand miles from home.

“Hey, you.” Natalie opened her arms wide. Ryleigh stepped into them. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” she said, offering a halfhearted smile. “Nice to see you too.”

Natalie brushed a windblown strand of hair from Ryleigh’s face. “You’re shivering. Go take a hot shower. I’ll take in the view—it’s gorgeous, by the way. Then we’ll talk.”

“Nat—”

“We’ll talk after you shower.”

NATALIE FLIPPED THE
fireplace switch and flames danced in and out of make-believe logs. This was meant to be a fun getaway, a quest of sorts, not something that had added another scar to her friend’s already embattled year.

The curtains were drawn, exposing the view of the lake. Natalie folded her arms, the day fading and as dreary as her mood. Ryleigh’s safety was the lone bright spot—maybe not safe from whatever skeletons she’d dug up, but safe from physical harm. Nat sighed at the tiny ray of optimism poking its way through a whitewashed day.

Dressed in pajamas and towel-drying her hair, Ryleigh padded into the room in bare feet. “Quite a view, isn’t it?”

Natalie turned. “It is,” she said. “Be romantic when there’s a pile of snow. This is a different cold than in Arizona, don’t you think?”

“You have no idea. I can’t wait to go home. I told Ambrose I might come back, but I don’t know if I ever want to see this place again.”

Natalie sat on the four-poster, bouncing once before settling. “Take it from the top.”

Ryleigh propped the pillows in a heap. “Where do I begin?” she said, burying her head in a towel.

Nat kicked off her shoes and tossed a mountain of pillows on the bed. “We’ve got all night.” Telling secrets to their pillow was a ritual started long ago—a place to muffle giggles or a soft landing for spilled tears.

Ryleigh lapsed into her storytelling voice, pausing awkwardly at times when emotion threatened to take over.

Natalie digested the story in silence as afternoon slipped quietly into dusk, a shaft of sunlight bathing the room in a warm glow before it winked and melted into the twilight.

Ryleigh rocked back and forth, pillow clutched in the folds of her arms, embracing a comfort neither she nor Nat could provide.

“What do I say?” Nat swiped at tears collecting on her cheeks. “I never dreamed—”

“Sometimes words get in the way.” Ryleigh got to her feet and shook two sleeping pills from the vial. “I can’t disappear like Frodo or Bilbo, or Ambrose for that matter, but I can escape into sleep.”

Natalie knew the feeling—broken dreams could punch a hole in your heart so huge the wind seemed to whistle straight through it. When the doctors told her she would never carry a child, Ryleigh held her up when she’d been too devastated to stand alone. It had been Ryleigh who’d saved her from sinking into quicksand, gave her air, and helped stitch her wounds. Sometimes words weren’t necessary. Knowing someone was there beside you, to offer the simple reassurance of a touch was enough. Mitch had been her rock, but he couldn’t know the grief, the guilt and emptiness of a barren womb. Ryleigh never pretended to know; she simply helped absorb the pain. “Sleep is what you need right now, Riles. But first, can I have your plane ticket?”

“Why?”

“So we can fly back together.”

“The sooner, the better.” Ryleigh handed her the ticket and slipped beneath the blankets. “I’m glad you’re here, Nat.”

Without a word, Nat reached over and squeezed her best friend’s hand.

“One redeeming thing has come from this whole ordeal,” Ryleigh said as she yawned.

Nat drew her laptop from its case. “What’s that?”

She yawned again. “I know how my book ends.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

Ryleigh closed her eyes, her breaths slow and deep.

Nat air-pumped a fist. “Yes!” Clicking away at the keyboard, she turned to her friend. “It’s about time, Riles. You’re a writer. It’s who you are.” But her words fell on deaf ears.

Natalie’s heart ached for the journey her friend would need to face. The climb would be as difficult as scaling the Grand Canyon with a hundred-pound backpack. And she’d help carry the load. But for now, she scanned the flight schedules and booked their flight. “Perfect.”

She checked her e-mail and read a note about the opening of a resort her friend Rose managed in Colorado. Nestled at the base of the Rocky Mountains, the new owners wanted to attract the skiers, snow bunnies, and anyone else who thought frolicking in knee-deep snow was their idea of fun, and they were interested in incorporating Il Salotto’s services as part of their amenities. The idea was intriguing. Accepting the invitation, she clicked the Send button and closed her laptop. She tucked the blankets around Ryleigh’s shoulder and then sent Mitch a goodnight text. Setting her phone to vibrate, she leaned into the mound of pillows and considered Ambrose’s story, now Ryleigh’s story. Her past. If her best friend hadn’t been thrown into a whirlwind of unfathomable emotion, it would have been a touching story of profound love. She pressed the phone to her heart. “Love you, Mitch, but Riles may kill me before I ever see you or Arizona again.”

“RISE AND SHINE,
sleepyhead.” Natalie’s voice echoed from the bathroom.

Ryleigh groaned, pried one eye open, and poked her head from beneath the blankets. “Everything’s fuzzy,” she said, the words heavy with sleep. “I need caffeine.”

“I brought coffee from the breakfast room.”

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Jet lag. Calls for desperate measures.”

Ryleigh pressed her palms against her eyes.

“You slept okay?”

Ryleigh tossed the covers, set her feet on the floor, and aimed for the coffee. “No dreams,” she said, the sleep hangover beginning to fade. “Double dose of artificial suspension of consciousness.”

“We can get breakfast after you’re dressed.” Nat glanced at her watch and counted forward. “It’s seven o’clock here. Our flight doesn’t leave Albany until eleven thirty.

“Seems like I’ve been away for a lifetime. By the way, how’s Kingsley?”

“As obnoxious as ever.” Nat grinned. “I swear that cat hates me.”

Ryleigh chuckled. Her companion through mishaps, nightmares, and dreamscapes, Kingsley never offered an opinion. Not an oral one anyway. “He doesn’t hate anyone. He’s just, different.”

“Arrogant feline.”

“Can’t wait to see him. We should be back in Phoenix around five or so, right?”

“No,” Nat said, adding the back to her earring. “I’ll explain later. We have two rentals to return and a layover in D.C.” She scrunched her nose. “Now get moving. It’s early, but we’ve got a long day ahead of us. And I want to see Ballston Spa.”

Ryleigh came fully awake and sat up. “What?”

On Nat’s insistence and with time to spare, the women drove into Ballston Spa. Ryleigh had agreed, sputtering a few choice words under her breath as she tapped the navigation screen. Barnabas came to life.

Nat’s eyes widened. “Step away from the dash, Barnabas Collins, vampire extraordinaire—and come to Mama,” she said, waggling her fingers at the dash and then turned to Ryleigh. “And you thought you had no relatives.”

Ryleigh slowed as they entered the village, Soldier’s Monument looming directly in front of The Simmering Skillet. Ryleigh parked and together they walked to the window, but the sign indicated the restaurant didn’t open until lunch.

“So much for breakfast here.” Natalie rubbed her hands together. “We passed a place called The Koffee Kettle.”

“That’s where Megan works.”

Nat smiled and skipped her long legs into high gear.

Ryleigh shook her head and hurried to keep in stride, their breath ahead of them in puffs of fog. “Sometimes you drive me nuts, Natalie Jo. I do not want to do this.”

Christmas wreaths hung from streetlamps, and the storefronts competed for the best in holiday finery. Bells tinkled as shoppers moved in and out of the doorways, and the spicy aroma of gingerbread wafted through the brisk air.

The Koffee Kettle offered a welcomed retreat from the outside chill. Nat chose a table by the window.

The metallic clink of Megan’s bracelet collection preceded her to the table. “Hell’s bells, didn’t think I’d see you again,” she said, raising a studded eyebrow. “I see you brought reinforcements.” She squinted an eye, clicked her tongue, and pointed to Natalie. “Now, what can I get for you two?”

Megan took their order and retreated behind the counter.

“She’s exactly as you described, Riles.”

“I’m extremely uncomfortable.”

“Be good for you. You’ll see.”

Megan returned, steam rising from their mugs in lazy swirls. She set a caramel latte in front of Ryleigh, handed Natalie the white cloud mocha cappuccino and gave them each a bagel topped with egg and cheese. Ryleigh’s taste buds awoke and her stomach sounded a pleased alarm. She raised her mug, sipped and wiped the foam from her lip.

Megan pulled up a chair between them, swung a leg over, and rested a hand and her chin on the backrest. “You can slurp the foam ya know,” she said, waving her free hand at their mugs. “It’s not forbidden, or even rude. It’s a right of passage in a coffee house.”

Natalie took a noisy sip. “Good to know.”

Megan turned to Ryleigh. “So, did you find the old guy?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Ryleigh nearly choked. Her mug dropped to the table, the half-filled contents a coffee and caramel flavored tidal wave.

Megan flicked the feather earring off her shoulder. Her hair was darker and a purple streak had appeared over her left ear. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to blindside you.”

“Fine.” Ryleigh swallowed. “I guess.”

“He’s a bit perplexing.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Natalie’s head bobbed from one to the other to keep up with the conversation.