Karl was silent and surly. Wolf would talk one of your ears off and then go after the other one.
—Augusta Glower, Bad Luck Club
One look at Bear, and I know—this man will tell me everything. He just has one of those faces, warm and open, like an anthropomorphized hug. Harry told me he’d spill, and so did Nicole, in one of her few relevant texts in the Setting the Record Straight chat group. (Does that woman work?)
So why do I feel a little tinge of disappointment?
Part of me wanted Cal to do the talking.
But he brought me here. He did this for me. There’s meaning in that. There’s power.
A little voice pipes up in the back of my head, reminding me not to get hung up on him. If I land that Rogue Word job—and this new access to the Bad Luck Club practically guarantees it—I’ll be moving to Los Angeles. And if not? If not, I guess the sensible thing to do would be to return to my apartment in Seattle and find another job there. Except…part of me doesn’t want to do either of those things. I’ve avoided Asheville for most of my adult life, but in one week, I’ve built stronger relationships here than I did in several years out west. Back in Seattle, all I have waiting for me is my apartment and the chance to return to the constricting comfort of Beyond the Sheets, which I definitely don’t want. In LA, there’s nothing but a question mark.
But I don’t have to think about any of that now. I’m on the cusp of something, and I want to follow it through to its natural conclusion. So I shut down those whispers and follow Bear and Cal into their fragrant house.
No, house is too small of a word for it; this is a home. It’s all wood inside—more cabin than house, fitting given its perch in the trees—and there’s a hearth that would be extra cheerful and cozy if it weren’t eighty-five degrees outside.
“Welcome,” Bear says happily, waving me in. “What’s your poison? We’ve got that Buchanan lemon beer that won a big award last year. I guess your brother-in-law probably helped promote it. We think a lot of your sister Maisie around here. Wouldn’t have our Ruby without her.”
Ruby wags her tail in agreement and races over to give his knee a sloppy kiss.
He rubs her head, and I shoot a look at Cal. His jaw is tight, and even though there was a surprising easiness to him in the car, he’s on edge again.
“Or we have white wine,” Bear says, winking at me. “I’ll never tell.”
I laugh, because he’s charming as hell. I guess Augusta got some things right, although I wouldn’t half mind having both of my ears talked off by Cal’s father.
“You know what,” I say, “I’d love some white wine.” I turn to Cal. “What about you? Want to live dangerously?”
His lips twitch slightly, like he wants to smile but is no longer sure how. Then he says, “Sure. Pour me a little. But I’m going to bring Ruby out now. I’ll bet you lost track of time while you were cooking, Dad.”
“Guilty as charged,” Bear says, raising a hand. “But she’s helped me taste-test, so she’s had a grand old time.” She wags her tail and lets out an atonal bark as if to agree.
Truthfully, I think Cal has another reason for his sudden haste. He’ll enjoy dinner more, even if it’s cold, if he knows his dad and I have already spoken about the club. I get that, so I just nod as he collects Ruby’s leash from the coatrack on the wall. It’s a beautiful piece, made to look like interweaving tree branches, and I feel a dawning sense of wonder.
Did you make that?
I didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the words must have escaped me, because he glances back at me, pain flashing in his eyes, and nods. “Yeah, a long time ago.”
“It’s…beautiful,” I say, because words can’t express what I’m feeling. If he could make something like that, why would he ever stop? Cal puts up a tough-guy front, but so many things of beauty live inside of him—that sunrise on the mountain, his woodworking, the loyalty of his friends.
“Thank you,” he says simply. Something about the way he says it suggests the subject is closed.
My gaze is stuck on him, so I watch as he leashes up Ruby. He glances back, once, as he heads out the door, and our gazes glue together for a moment. There’s determination in his dark eyes, and not just to escape. He decided he was going to allow me this time with his dad, and he’s not going to let himself back down.
Bear clears his throat, and I turn to see him behind me, two glasses of white wine in hand.
“I turned the oven down to low. He probably won’t be back for a while.”
I nod, because we’re in agreement. Cal will stay away for as long as he reasonably can.
“Take a seat anywhere you’d like,” Bear says, waving around us. There’s a sofa that looks like the kind you wouldn’t want to get up from—my old boss would hate it—but my gaze falls on a rocking chair. The rocking chair. I recognize it from that photo of Cal I saw online, and I feel a weird swell of emotion. In person, it’s so lovely I almost want to cry.
I take one of the glasses from Bear and lower into the chair. “He’s talented,” I say. “It’s a shame he quit.”
“It is.” He gives the words added gravity, as if he’s not just talking about Cal’s change in career. I want to ask for clarification, but I’m very aware of the time ticking past.
Bear sits on the sofa but lifts his glass out to me, seeking eye contact. “Cheers. To setting the record straight.”
I meet his eyes and clink glasses with him, but I’ve been in the business of being nosy for too long to miss his carefully chosen wording.
“Let me guess, Nicole added you as a silent observer to the chat group? She was very adamant that you wanted the truth to come out.”
He grins. “You caught me. Nicole’s better with technology than I am. She didn’t really follow Cal around. I’m the one who told her about his hikes.” His mouth twists to the side. “At least I don’t think she followed him.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say with a laugh. She certainly seems capable of it.
“Did you come up with the idea after you found out I’m Maisie’s sister?” I’m not sure why it’s important, but I want to know.
“No,” he says, rubbing the rim of his glass. “It was after Cal came home the day he met you at the tea shop. He was worked up. Upset. He doesn’t let himself get that way often.” His brow furrows, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. “I’m sure you know about Alice by now. After she died, Cal closed down.” He sets his glass on the coffee table. “I guess I let it happen. The club was supposed to help him work through everything, but after what Auggie did—”
“Auggie,” I snort, nearly choking on a sip of wine. I lift up a hand in apology. “Sorry. Keep going. Seriously, keep going. Augusta just doesn’t seem like much of an Auggie to me.”
“No, I suppose not,” he says with a smile. “But I have a habit of giving people nicknames. Anyway, when Auggie published that book full of lies…he didn’t get mad. He was still closed down, and he refused to let any of us tell the truth. Then you came around, trying to dig up the story, and suddenly he’s feeling again. He’s talking.” He chuckled. “He’s mostly been mad as a wet hornet, but it’s something. It made me think that maybe he needs to set the record straight as much as any of us.”