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Walking out the front door of Elora’s family home with a cup of coffee, I walk over to the railing on the front deck and look out at the mountain in the distance. Two days ago, we arrived in Littleton, and each morning, I’ve come out here to drink my coffee and take in the view.
It’s beautiful. It’s also quiet, so quiet I know I won’t be able to stay here too long before the silence becomes too much. But I’ve enjoyed the peace, the history it holds for Elora, and the way her face lights up every time she tells me stories about growing up here.
Turning to look over my shoulder when I hear the door to the house open, I smile as I watch Elora stumble outside in just my tee, with her hair a mess from the shower we took last night and my fingers that tangled in it after we fell into bed.
“Morning.” She walks up to join me, and I lift my arm when she curls into my side. “I thought you’d sleep in.”
“Me too, but I think it’s too quiet.” She takes the mug from my hand putting it to her lips to take a sip.
“Since I’m up, do you want to go have breakfast in town?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah, I don’t really feel like cooking.” She hands me back the cup, then leans up on her toes for a kiss. Once I press my lips to hers, she drops back down. “I’m going to get ready.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I watch her disappear back into the house, then turn back to the view as I finish my coffee. When I’m done, I walk inside and wander through the living room. It’s exactly as it was when Millie was alive. Pictures of Elora growing up are on every available surface, books she enjoyed reading are stacked on the coffee table, and art supplies are still out from a painting she was working on near the window as if she expected to come back and finish it. It was the same at Val’s apartment when I went there while he was in the hospital.
I take my cup to the sink in the kitchen, wash it out, then place it in the drying rack before I go up to the second floor, where Elora’s childhood bedroom is and where we’ve been sleeping since we arrived.
When we’re both dressed, I buckle her into the car I rented and drive us the fifteen minutes into town, which is small, with only two grocery stores, a couple of fast food restaurants, and multiple bars and churches.
The café located on Main Street isn’t very busy when we get inside, and I’m not sure if it’s because it’s a weekday or just not enough people live here to ever really fill all the tables on any given day.
“Elora.” The woman who spots us first is close to Elora’s age but dressed like she stepped out of the ’50s, wearing a blue dress with puffy sleeves and a white apron tied around her thick waist.
“Hey, Mo.” Elora gives her a kind smile.
“Are you back?” she asks, then her eyes move to me and widen when I step into Elora’s space, wrapping my hand around her hip.
“Only for a few days,” Elora tells her. “Can we get a table for two?”
“Of course.” She hurries to pick up two menus, then leads us to a booth in the back. Once we are seated, she takes our drink orders and hurries off.
“A friend of yours?” I ask quietly, and she shrugs.
“More of an acquaintance. Tyler was the only person I really spent any time with outside of school and work.”
With a nod, I pick up the menu. “What are you getting?”
“Pancakes, but you have to get the eggs benedict. It’s one of the best things on the breakfast menu, and you’ll love it because the portion is enough for three people.”
“Are you saying I eat a lot?”
“I’m not saying you don’t.” She starts to smile, but that smile slides away when a shadow falls over our table.
When I look to see who’s joined us, I find a woman standing over us who looks a lot like Millie did in every photo I’ve ever seen of her. Only her hair is mostly gray, and her face is wrinkled from the sun that she obviously gets too much of.
“Aunt Josie,” Elora greets quietly, and my muscles immediately bunch.
“I thought that was you,” her aunt says, looking at her niece, and I notice that there is no move from either of them to hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on my mom’s place.”
Josie nods. “I heard the sale went through.” Her gaze comes to me. “Who’s your friend?”
“Roman King.” I don’t bother holding out my hand. “Elora’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” She looks at her niece with disapproval, but Elora misses it when her eyes come to me, and her face goes soft.
