whole life had fallen apart, and Macy was ready to cry over her hair. That was how well her mother’s shampoo was working. Every time Winter stared in the mirror now, she was reminded that life had taken a fuzzy, out-of-control detour.
“I could, but it’s pretty clear when I use my own stuff. The fact that I can run a brush through it gives me away. The lectures you get for bringing plastic bottles into my mother’s house, and on the expense of salon shampoos, and the devastating research some companies perform on animals, although not mine, because I did my own research and paid twice what I needed so I could use it with a clear conscience but whatever, Mother... All that together?” Winter snatched the butterfly clip holding her bangs back out of her hair. “Nobody has time for that every day, not even the unemployed.”
Clearly, her new friends were not quite certain how to react, but their small smiles and twitching lips were another reason to laugh.
And that felt good.
“I never appreciated the small things before,” Winter said, “but the small things have gotten much, much larger lately.” The tiny pinch of the butterfly clip she’d stolen from her mother’s stuff was easy to focus on.
“Any idea how long you’ll be staying with Mom and Dad?” Macy asked. “Ash has room in his cabin and there’s a couch in my living room. The space isn’t much, but you’re welcome to it. And there’s no way I’ll lecture you about your shampoo.” Macy lowered her voice, and added, “Unless you won’t let me use it, too.”
Christina elbowed her in the side affectionately.
“What? She has good stuff. Her hair was legendary.” Macy held both arms out to the ladies as if to say no one in town would blame her. “Before all this, I could hardly talk to Winter because she was so...together.”
Before. Macy didn’t have to explain before what.
That was something else everyone at the table knew.
Before the governor had read the environmental-impact report of the new lodge being planned for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and decided to attack his political opponent, Whit Callaway, Jr., over the damage to Tennessee’s resources and history.
Before the lodge, which the Callaways were pushing through on the land they owned but held in reserve for citizens and voters in Tennessee, stalled and they turned on the head ranger, her brother, Ash.
Before Whit had threatened her brother and led Winter to end their engagement and showed his true colors.
Before she’d begged Caleb Callaway, Whit’s brother, to fix everything, except her job and her engagement.
Winter had had it all together before that.
Begging was not an option for Winter Kingfisher, but she’d done it for the reserve and her brother, and a chance to keep the life she’d set up.
She’d been the public outreach officer for the reserve. She’d been juggling Whit’s campaign with one hand and a society wedding with the other.
Now her hair was a mess, although it had nothing on the rest of her life.
“This is temporary.” Winter had repeated the same words to herself so many times she was beginning to wonder if they had lost all meaning. “First, I find a job. Since both the reserve and politics seem to be out of the question...” This was where she stalled time and again. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“I have all the time in the world for you at the library. Unpaid volunteering doesn’t help with the money, but the kids love your story times. You would not believe how many crayon drawings of Rabbit tricking Possum I’ve seen since you told that story two months ago. It’s like you have some special connection to them.” Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever considered teaching?”
Winter’s immediate panicked reaction, complete with shaking her head so hard her frizzy hair whizzed in front of her face, had them all fighting back grins, until Astrid drawled, “Okay, crossing that off the list.”
“I like to tell stories. Kids love stories.” Winter balled up her napkin. “That doesn’t make me a teacher. Teachers mold young minds and keep them in their seats. Storytellers waltz in, capture their attention and waltz back out. Me? In front of a classroom all day long? I’d either arrange them into military formation or take cover under my desk. Either way, it would end in tears for one of us.”
“Not teaching. Not the reserve. How are you with food orders?” Christina asked. “The campground is staffed, but this place could use some help.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your tips would be better if you could fix your hair, though.”
“I was a hostess at a restaurant in Knoxville all the way through college.” Winter studied the beat-up interior of The Branch. Surely she could manage drink orders and the limited menu here. “How different could it be?”
As she glanced back at her companions, no one seemed convinced. Before she could argue that she’d discovered quickly how to suggest appetizers and the perfect pairing of wine, Leanne leaned forward. “The skills are different here, hon. Are you good with your hands?”
“Like, writing?” Winter mimed holding a pen and scribbling on a small notepad.
“That and often picking up broken things.” Leanne motioned at the big, noisy crowd of fishermen that had come in.
Sweetwater depended on the tourists attracted to the area by the nature reserve’s trails, campground and lake. During the busy summer season, the main street through town enjoyed a steady stream of families shopping for souvenirs and breakfast, lunch and dinner. Late February was slow on Otter Lake, but there were still groups of folks that visited the campground for a weekend away. Since this was the only place in town serving beer, The Branch was must-see Sweetwater for nightlife.
“Have you searched for jobs in Knoxville or Nashville?” Macy asked. “I know your parents want you here, but the options open up in the city.”
She had, but Knoxville was too close to Whit, and Nashville wasn’t close enough to Otter Lake. Moving there might open up a spot for her on Richard Duncan’s campaign team, since she clearly had the insider info on Whit Callaway, but there was no safety net in Nashville. No Otter Lake, either.
On the other hand, in Nashville, she wouldn’t have to worry about every person she passed on the sidewalk, neighbors who’d known her for her whole life, wondering how she’d messed up everything so spectacularly.
“I’d like to find something here. For now. Later...” Winter let the sentence trail off. If she managed to win a spot on the governor’s team, Nashville would have to work. Until then, she’d stay home. She loved this place—the reserve’s beauty, the stories of the people who grew up there—and all she’d ever wanted to do was teach other people to love it, too. Working for the reserve and plotting Whit’s race to win the state capital had been a solid plan. “I can wait tables. I’ve always been a good multitasker.”
“You could pick it up, for sure. And the tips are decent. Unfortunately, the urge to drink them all away means no working here, not for me.” Leanne turned her root beer in a slow circle. “I could talk to Janet. She mentioned finding a part-time salesperson for the art gallery she’s opening next to the souvenir shop.”
When everyone nodded and pointed in relief, as if they’d been certain she’d be
