be pleased about having the sister show up on her doorstep.
“Yeah, well, your sister rented a two-bedroom apartment not far from where I live, in Revelstoke. That’s a little ways farther down the highway from here. If you want to follow me in your car, I’ll introduce you to the landlady. We’ve still got your sister’s key. It was with the stuff we found at the cabin.”
He retrieved the sleeping bag and knapsack they’d brought back from the hut and tossed them to Amalie.
“Ready?” He pulled his own keys from his pocket, then shrugged into his jacket. As he led the pair through the narrow corridor, he noticed Ralph Carlson was back in his office.
“I think you should meet this guy,” he told Amalie. “He works for Parks Canada and is officially in charge of any rescue mission into the back-country.”
Introductions went quickly, and Ralph reiterated Grant’s own conclusion—that a recovery mission couldn’t be implemented at this time.
Out in the parking lot Amalie’s blue Jetta stood out in the line of four-by-four trucks. Grant was glad to see she had new-looking winter treads on her tires. Too many drivers underestimated road conditions on this stretch of the highway.
He waited as she unlocked the driver-side door. In the back seat he could see two rolled-up sleeping bags and pillows, a large cooler and stacks of books and papers.
“Is your trunk full, too?” he asked.
Amalie glanced over her shoulder to see what he’d been looking at. It didn’t take long for her to get his point. “Yes, it’s full. We’re planning to stay as long as it takes. I’ve taken a leave-of-absence from work.”
“What about his schooling?” He nodded at Davin, who was just sliding into the front passenger seat.
“I’ll home-school him while we’re here. Thanks for your concern.”
The sound of her slamming car door still rang in his ears by the time Grant reached his own truck. Obviously, he’d made a second impression even worse than the first. He supposed he hadn’t come across as very sympathetic. Or very welcoming, either.
Well, that was too bad. She wasn’t the only one grieving over someone. And hadn’t he warned her not to come in the first place?
THE TIRES of Amalie’s Jetta crunched in the snow, as she slowed and pulled over to the side of the street behind Grant Thorlow’s truck. They were just two blocks from the Columbia River, on Mackenzie Avenue. The three-story apartment block was a Bavarian-styled structure of stucco and stained wood, with balconies on every unit.
A nice enough place. But Helena was a city girl. And this town—while prettier than Amalie had expected—was no Toronto or Seattle.
And it was so cut off from the rest of the world. Those mountains! Amalie had never seen anything like them. She knew she ought to be impressed with their beauty, but instead she found them oppressive, frightening.
Just by Golden—the last town they’d passed before Rogers Pass—the mountains had felt like prison walls. The curves in the road had tightened, and the sheer rock face on her left had seemed close enough to touch from an open window.
The view to the right was worse—she hadn’t dared look at the valley below. The short concrete guardrail had seemed to offer woefully inadequate protection against a sheer drop into nothingness.
“Is this the place?” Davin asked.
“I guess so,” she said. Grant was already at the front entrance, pacing impatiently as he waited. Amalie turned to Davin. “How are you doing?”
“Sick of driving. Sick of this car.” Davin got out and slammed the door behind him.
Amalie followed more slowly. Her neck and shoulders were tight from hours of concentrating on the snow-covered, winding roads, and she had a dull ache in her lower back.
Ahead, Davin ran up to Grant, his young voice raised in yet another question. Whatever he said, it made Grant laugh.
Snow had begun to fall when they were leaving the Rogers Pass compound earlier; now it covered the road with a clean white film. Amalie could see clearly the footprints of the two people who had preceded her. The smaller, even-treaded prints were from Davin’s sneakers, while Grant’s rugged hiking boots had left behind large, deeply grooved tracks.
She couldn’t quite figure what to make of him, this Grant Thorlow. In his office, as on the phone, he’d been cool, broaching on rude. She didn’t know where he got off. Did the man not have a shred of compassion in him? His stiffly offered words of sympathy about her sister’s death had felt like an insult. Obviously, he wasn’t happy that she’d ignored his advice and driven here, either.
It was evident that he’d disliked Helena. He’d expected to dislike her, too. The message had been plain.
Well, she’d be happy to return the favor and dislike him back.
Except…It wasn’t fair that he was so ruggedly attractive. She never met men like him in the city. His features weren’t anything special; he wasn’t even well groomed. His hair looked as though he cut it himself, a button was missing on his faded blue shirt and his collar curled up from lack of a good ironing.
What did details like those matter, though, when a man was tall and well built, with browned, slightly ruddy skin and sharp blue-gray eyes. When Grant moved, he clearly had total command of himself, and when he spoke, his words might not be phrased tactfully, but they carried the ring of uncompromising truth.
No, in all honesty she couldn’t say she disliked the man, even though he manifestly had no use for her.
“I’ve buzzed the landlady,” Grant explained when she was almost beside him. “She should—”
He dropped the end of his sentence as a thin woman in her fifties, with sharp features and her hair up in curlers, pushed open the security door.
“Don’t just stand there, Thorlow. You’re letting in the cold.” She stood back, surprised when not one but three of them entered the warm vestibule. Her piercing gaze skimmed right past Grant and Davin to settle on Amalie.
“Ohhh!” She sucked in a breath and stared.
One corner of Grant’s mouth curled in amusement. “Identical twins.” He leaned against a bank of metal mailboxes. “Heidi Eitelbach, this is Amalie Fremont. And her nephew, Davin.”
Amalie stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Eitelbach. My nephew and I were hoping to stay in Helena’s apartment while we—while we settle my sister’s affairs.”
“If you’re planning to settle her affairs, you can start right now.” Heidi Eitelbach stamped a small slippered foot on the linoleum flooring. “Your sister was three weeks late on her rent, and if you’ll be staying more than a few days, you’ll have to pay for the whole next month, as well.”
Amalie hadn’t counted on this. “How much?”
“Four hundred and fifty per month.”
Times two. She’d have to transfer funds from her savings. Oh, Lord, what was she doing?
