Chapter 1

As we drive further into the frozen, barren landscape, I slowly begin to embrace the gray desolation of my new home. This lifeless terrain is a fitting punishment and matches my inner turmoil to perfection. Everything good and beautiful in my life is gone, leaving me with this unyielding, bitter iciness that surrounds me.

Dad slows the truck. “Well, Em, looks like we’re almost there.”

I turn from looking out the frosted side window but see no signs of life, so I glance at the GPS map. Aside from the road we’ve been traveling, we’ve seen nothing for miles. But, sure enough, one single line snakes off from our current path.

He slowly makes the turn, and suddenly we’re swallowed by a thick, dark forest where anything could lurk. The tires crunch across hard-packed snow. Our change in speed signals Zuri to pop her head up. Everyone thinks my black dog is a lab. She’s actually a shepherd mix and a fabulous family pet. Lately, she has advanced in status to that of a much-needed, faithful companion.

In the dark, unfamiliar surroundings, she lets out a prolonged whine. I reach back and pat her head. She seems as unnerved as I am by the towering snowbanks that line the sides of the road. Leaning forward on the console between Dad and me, she peers out the front window. In this winter wonderland, the white starburst of fur on her chest might easily be a snowflake.

Tall, snow-covered pines create long purple shadows, adding to the already eerie effect of surroundings that would be the perfect setting for a horror movie—the desolation, the hopelessness, the foreboding.

The trees begin to thin out, and Dad eases up on the gas. He stops the truck next to a pretty log home with a wraparound porch. A welcoming plume of smoke billows from the stone chimney—probably the only inviting thing for miles.

After switching off the ignition, Dad leans back in his seat and lets out a low whistle as he takes in the scene. On our right, a frozen lake is surrounded by a forest of tall pines, each with a dusting of fresh snow. Further down the lane from where we’re parked, a white lodge looks out over the water from a spot at its edge. The place appears to be a small, two-story hotel with probably no more than twenty guest rooms. Even from this distance, it’s clear a little TLC would be a good thing. Paint has peeled away in large areas on the exterior walls. Missing tiles have left jagged voids on the roof. Several shutters hang askew, rather like a massive beast shedding its winter coat. But a large gazebo at the water’s edge hints at the charm the lodge once portrayed. Scattered behind the main building, several small cabins appear as sad and neglected as the main lodge. Dad has his work cut out for him.

He turns and looks at me. His grin doesn’t hide the lines of fatigue and worry. “Welcome to O’Malley Lake, kid. Ready for our next adventure?”

I attempt a small smile but am unable to coerce any kind of sincerity, though I reach to the depths of my soul. It’s certainly not his fault that our life has crumbled to pieces, and I shouldn’t take my misery out on him. With my smile a total bust, I give him a thumbs-up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

I open the car door, and an onslaught of the coldest air I’ve ever known seems bent on snatching my breath. A shocked gasp fills my lungs with unbearably icy cold. I slam the door shut to block out the elements.

With a chuckle, Dad reaches into the back seat for my jacket and tosses it at me. “Welcome to Minnesota in January.”

With a huff, I slip on the coat, then gloves and hat from my pockets. I pull the knit hat over my blonde hair before trying to exit the truck once again. However, the added layers do little to warm me up. In moments, I’m unable to feel my cheeks, which are already numb from the cold. Who in their right mind moves to Minnesota in the middle of winter?

Easy. Those who have no choice.

I’m about to give up on this venture and retreat to the warmth of the truck when a man exits the log house and tromps toward us. The steam trailing from a mug in his bare hand is the most inviting thing I’ve seen all day.

In a few long strides, the tall, broad-shouldered man reaches us. The hand not holding a hot mug slides from his jacket pocket and extends toward Dad. “Mr. Harris?”

Dad offers his gloved hand for the shake. “Call me Brad. And you must be Mitch Stevenson.”

Strands of gray highlight Mr. Stevenson’s dark hair, making him appear to be about Dad’s age. He nods and then offers me a welcoming smile. “You must be Emerson.”

My teeth chatter in response, while Zuri lets out a friendly bark from the truck.

Mr. Stevenson motions for us to follow him. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

I return to the truck and yank open the passenger door so Zuri can leap out. Instead of staying near me as she usually does, she sprints toward the porch of the log cabin. I can’t blame her. Her poor paws must be freezing. Somewhere in our belongings are the booties and matching sweater I bought her. And I’d thought Dad was crazy when he suggested them. A surge of envy at Zuri’s speed fills my every cell as the bitter cold prevents me from doing anything but stiffly follow along. Why would people choose to live here?

The cozy home is even more inviting inside. A roaring fire in the beautiful stone fireplace immediately draws Zuri and me closer. As I thaw out, I scan the photos on the log mantle. Most of them are of a family of four. Mr. Stevenson is easily recognizable, so I assume the other three people are his wife and two children—a boy and a girl. The most recent photo is of a lanky middle-school boy and an elementary-aged girl. Judging by the backgrounds of the pictures, the family enjoys hiking and camping.

“Please make yourselves at home.” Mr. Stevenson slips out of his jacket. The sleeves of his plaid shirt are rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. He probably stays fit by chopping logs to keep the fireplace stocked all winter so they don’t freeze to death.

A petite woman with wavy auburn hair appears with a tray of mugs. Mrs. Stevenson, I presume. Her diminutive stature makes her husband look even more solid and brawny. “I heated up some cider.” She sets the tray on a wooden coffee table. “I’m Diedre, Dee for short. Mitch and I are so thrilled that you’re here.” She offers me a mug. “Hopefully, you didn’t have any trouble on the journey.” Her sweet smile reminds me so much of Mom that I have to avert my gaze and blink away tears.

I wrap my hands around the mug. The cinnamon-apple scent wafts up in a cloud of steam even as welcoming heat seeps through my gloves. Maybe I won’t lose my fingers to frostbite, after all. At least, not today. “Thank you. This is wonderful.”

The men make themselves comfortable in leather armchairs, and Dee sits on the couch amid an abundance of decorative pillows. Finally, having stopped shivering, I set down my mug and peel off the layers that seem woefully inadequate for the climate of our new state.

While the adults chat, I pick up my mug and scan the room, impressed with Dee’s knack for decorating. She’s combined rugged, woodsy pieces with modern items to create a welcoming, elegant atmosphere.

“You have a beautiful piece of property here.” Dad looks out the large picture window toward the frozen lake.

Dee reaches for her husband’s hand. “It’s always been Mitch’s dream to live on a lake.”

Mitch’s lopsided grin is endearing. “And Dee has always wanted to run a bed and breakfast, so this seemed like the perfect combination.”

Dee releases her husband’s hand and tucks her legs beneath her. “I’m envisioning more of a special event center for weddings, family reunions, and retreats. But, as you can tell by the state of the lodge, we have some work to do in order to make that vision a reality.”

Dad faces the Stevensons and takes a sip of his cider. “And that’s where I come in.”

Mitch nods. “Yes, we’re hoping you’ll be able to help us get the old place in usable shape by the time spring rolls around.”

Dad’s eyes narrow as he peers out the giant picture window toward the lodge. “I’ll do my best.” He turns his attention to his new employer. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

As the men discuss the details, Dee offers me another welcoming smile. “Emerson, will you be attending Lake Forest High School?”

I shake my head and sit down next to her. “No. I’ll be finishing the year online.”

She nods slowly. Her penetrating gaze forces me to look down at the amber-colored cider. “This is really good, by the way.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” she says. “We fixed up one of the cabins for you and your dad. I think you’ll be comfortable there. If you’re ready to brave the cold again, I could show it to you.”

I’m most definitely not ready to venture outside so soon after thawing out, but I don’t want to be rude, so I drain the rest of the warm liquid, raising my internal temperature. “Sounds great.”

After bundling up, I follow Dee down the lane toward the cabins, Zuri at our heels. My hostess stops at the nearest building—a little log cabin with a cute front porch. It’s smaller than where she and her family live, but it’s an adequate size for just Dad and me. Dee opens the front door, and I follow her into the toasty living room. A fire has already been lit in the stone fireplace, a smaller version of the one at the Stevenson’s home.

“Feel free to take down any of these decorations and put up your own,” Dee says as I glance around at the woodland décor.

I gaze at the bear and elk knick-knacks. “They’re great. We didn’t really bring much with us.”

A curious Zuri leads the tour, taking us through the living room and into the kitchen—not large, but it’ll do the trick.

She points toward the fridge. “I wasn’t sure how much you or your dad liked to cook, so I stocked your freezer with a few meals. We also bought some essentials for the fridge and cupboards.”

I drop my gloves on the small kitchen table. “That’s so kind. I hadn’t even thought of any of that yet.”

Dee leads me across the living room to the two bedrooms. I’m thankful to see each comes with its own bathroom. Not having to share one with Dad will be a nice change. Each room is furnished with a queen-sized bed covered by a patchwork quilt and numerous pillows. The bedframes are made of pine logs and fit the woodland theme perfectly. Patterned rugs add color to the wood floors and will help eliminate the click-clacky noise of Zuri’s toenails as she walks.

I smile at Dee. “Thanks. This is perfect.”

She clasps her hands in front of her. “If you think of anything else you need, let me know.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, a bit overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness.

She reaches out and gently touches my hand. “Emerson, please come by the house at any time, for any reason. While I was excited to purchase this place, I didn’t realize how isolated we would be—especially at this time of year. It’s truly wonderful to have you here. I’m sure Reid and Raina will also be thrilled. They get tired of just having their mom and dad around.” She again offers me the caring smile that reminds me so much of Mom.

“I look forward to meeting your kids.”

She looks around. “Well, I’ll let you get settled. Mitch and your dad will bring your things in soon.” She gives Zuri a goodbye pat and leaves.

I look out the front window toward the lake and the sad-looking lodge, trying to imagine how it might have looked “once upon a time.” Dad’s a fantastic contractor. If anyone can return this place to its original splendor, he can.

If only he could work that same magic on our shattered lives.