Alaskan Hideaway. Beth Carpenter

washed over him, but in a way it was a relief, to acknowledge what he’d lost. For some reason it was easier with Ursula, maybe because she didn’t know him, didn’t know the story, had no preconceived ideas. She didn’t rush in with some platitude or awkwardly edge away as though grief was contagious. She simply accepted what he told her.

      Ursula looked over at Blossom, snoozing on the rug with a cat under her chin. “Your daughter must have been a gentle person, to raise such a gentle pit bull.”

      â€œShe was.” Mac swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering. “She was too gentle for her own good sometimes. Always saw the best in people, even when they didn’t deserve it.”

      â€œIf everyone could be like your daughter, the world would be a better place.”

      â€œYes it would.” If only there were no predators, no evil. But they were there, preying on the innocent, and it was her very goodness that had cost Andi her life. Her murderer had disappeared, but eventually they would find him and he’d go to prison for the rest of his sorry life. Mac would make sure of it.

      But today—today he could talk about the daughter he loved. He told Ursula stories, about Andi as a girl, giving away her school supplies to other kids. About how she would make him chicken soup when he had a cold. About how she’d volunteered at the animal shelter, and done every walkathon and fund-raiser that came along. “When she was seventeen, she spent two weeks with a team in Peru, building a new dormitory for an orphanage.”

      â€œWow. How did she learn about building?”

      â€œWe’d both done some weekend work building houses locally. Andi was pretty handy with a nail gun. I was all set to go, too, but she wanted to do it without me.”

      â€œBrave girl. At seventeen, I’d never been more than a state away from Wyoming. Didn’t her mother worry?”

      Mac shook his head. “Her mother died when she was a baby. I worried. But Andi was fine.”

      â€œShe sounds like a special person.”

      Mac sighed. “She was.”

      Ursula refilled his cup. Mac realized he’d monopolized the conversation but she didn’t seem to mind. On the wall behind her, a calendar featured a picture of the inn. An emerald green mountain rose behind it. The setting was spectacular, summer or winter. He could see why people wanted to stay here. “How many rooms do you have in your inn?”

      â€œSix. Besides my private quarters.” She nodded toward the back door leading from the kitchen.

      â€œYou run it by yourself?”

      â€œI have a housekeeper three times a week. I do the rest.”

      â€œSounds like a big job.”

      â€œIt is, but I love it. I’ve been running the inn for about six years now.”

      The back door opened and a blond girl about seven or eight peeked through the crack. Ursula smiled at her and held out her arms. The girl ran over and climbed into her lap.

      Ursula stroked her hair from her forehead. “You’re up early. Did we wake you?”

      The girl gave a sleepy nod. An ache formed in Mac’s chest. She didn’t look much like his daughter. Andi had brown hair and eyes, while this girl was fair, but the way she cuddled against Ursula while watching him through her lashes brought back memories.

      â€œSorry, sweetie. Mac, I’d like you to meet my goddaughter, Aurora Houston. Rory, this is our new neighbor, Mr. Macleod.”

      â€œYou can call me Mac.”

      The little girl watched him for a moment before her eyes opened wide. “You’re the old grouch who blocked the ski trails.”

      â€œRory, you shouldn’t say—”

      â€œBut that’s what you said. That the old grouch wouldn’t open the gate and we have to go all the way over to Marge’s to ski.”

      â€œNo. I, uh...” Ursula’s cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. Who knew women still blushed? It was all Mac could do to keep a straight face. “That is, yes, I did say that but it was wrong. I was frustrated, but Mac has every right to decide how to manage his property, and I apologize to you both for what I said. Besides, he needs to keep the gates closed to keep the dog in.” She pointed toward Blossom.

      â€œA dog!” Rory scrambled off her lap and dropped onto the rug beside the dog and cat.

      Mac had to smile. Andi would have had exactly the same reaction. “Her name is Blossom.”

      She stroked the dog’s head, and Blossom thumped her tail. Rory looked up. “Look Ursula, she’s really nice. She must have just been having a bad day when she saw us before.”

      â€œI think it was the ski poles. She’s afraid of them.”

      â€œOh, that’s right.” Mac had forgotten. “My housekeeper mentioned she always has to put the dog out before she sweeps because Blossom doesn’t like the broom.”

      â€œWhy doesn’t she like poles?” Rory asked.

      â€œI’m not sure,” Mac responded, “but I suspect someone was mean to her when she was a puppy and might have hurt her with a stick. It’s funny, because she doesn’t seem to mind if I carry sticks and poles.”

      â€œThat’s because she knows she can trust you.” Ursula smiled at him. “And I do apologize for calling you an old grouch.”

      She’d only spoken the truth, but she was obviously trying to set an example for her goddaughter. “Apology accepted.”

      Ursula glanced at the clock. “Oops, time flies. Rory, you need to get dressed for school while I get your breakfast ready.”

      â€œBut I want to pet Blossom.”

      Mac stood. “It was nice to meet you, Rory. Blossom and I need to go, but maybe you can see her another time.”

      â€œGo on, sweetie.” Ursula allowed her to give the dog one last hug before she shooed her through the door. Ursula turned back to Mac. “Thank you for returning the plate.”

      â€œNo problem. Thanks for the muffins. And...everything.”

      â€œYou’re welcome. Stop by anytime, if the solitude gets to be too much for you.”

      â€œThanks, but I’ll be fine.”

      â€œYes, you will be.” Odd phrasing, but then he realized she wasn’t just being polite. She acknowledged his loss and believed he would get through it. He wasn’t nearly so sure, himself. He looked back just before he stepped out the door. She gave him one last smile. “Goodbye, Mac. Take care of yourself.”

      * * *

      THE CELL PHONE RANG, again. Mac considered ignoring it, but Ronald would just keep calling. Persistence was a good trait in an agent, most of the time. “It’s Mac.”

      â€œSo you’re still on the planet. I assume you made it to Alaska okay?”

      â€œI did.”

      â€œEverything all right with the cabin?”

      â€œIt’s fine.”

      â€œGood. Danielle gave me the address, and I arranged for them to install Wi-Fi.”

      â€œYou what?”

      â€œIt’s DSL. They’re supposed to be there