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“Does it make you sad?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I keep going. “To think of her… gone?”

Dad sighs, impatient with all my questions. “Yes, Olivia, it makes me sad. I’m not as heartless as you think.”

The inches of space between us seem more like miles. I stare at this man I thought I knew so well. I know his features, lean build, handsome face, fair hair. I know his laugh, his embrace, his desire for his children to succeed. I know him, and yet I’m realizing in some ways—I don’t. “I know you aren’t heartless; that’s why I’m confused. You don’t seem upset.” I repress bringing up the fact that my actions are the only reasons he’s here, that he was guilted into going to his own mother’s funeral. “I’m just trying to understand.”

Dad sighs. “I loved my mother, Olivia. But things were difficult between us. My relationship with my father was even more strained. Burt was hard on me, and it fed the complexity between Amelia and me.” He glances my way and then back at the road. “She told me over and over again that I didn’t belong in Rendezvous—that I needed to venture out. She never said that to my brothers, Olivia. It was like she built a wedge between me and the rest of them. I didn’t ask for it to be that way.” His eyes narrow, and he stares ahead in thought. “So, I left. And eventually, I saw my parents less and less. The less I saw of them, the easier it became—for all of us. I knew one day I’d get this phone call. It was inevitable. Am I sad? Sure. But you can’t miss what you don’t have. And I haven’t had a mother for a very long time.”

My breath hitches in my throat. I have no words. He has real justification for being absent in her life. He could Benson-and-Clyde their whole relationship and his reason for almost missing her funeral.

After exiting off the highway, we drive in the middle of nowhere until we officially reach Rendezvous, Wyoming. If the sign on the side of the road is accurate, it’s home to three hundred thirty-two people. My eleven-year-old memory is spurred to life, familiar and new all at once.

We drive down a paved road with dirt roads branching off. We pass the one store in town, Farmer’s, as well as dozens of little homes scattered off the forking roads—just like Amelia’s had been. Some homes have grassy yards, some only dirt; trees are rare. A mountain sits behind the little town, layered in three colors: a brown bottom, a green-speckled middle, and a snowy white top.

“Where to first?” I ask, my mind on pulling up floorboards.

“Earl asked me to go by her workplace and pick up her things. Then we’re driving into Cody to see her lawyer.” He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? Her son is a partner in one of Southern California’s most successful firms, and she hires some small-town attorney from Wyoming to handle her affairs.”

I press my lips together, locking my thoughts inside before they can burst out. I rarely speak out against Dad. But I could never imagine him coming to this little town to handle a will and testament. Nope. Not even for his mother. Not in a million years.

Biting my tongue, I change the subject. “Where did Amelia work?”

“The high school.”

That quiet, ill-tempered woman worked with… kids?

“What did she do?” I ask, unable to sound anything but aghast.

Dad chuckles. “I think she worked in the office.” He clears his throat—a sign of uncertainty. “She didn’t have a degree.”

The parking lot is minuscule, with a handful of available spaces. Dad pulls into one as I examine the buildings—two of them, side by side. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I did go to school here, Olivia.”

“Oh.” My brows cinch. “That’s right.” I’ve never pictured him anywhere but California. He doesn’t even talk about this place.

“That’s the high school.” He points to the building to our left, the smaller of the two.

“Wait. They aren’t both the high school?” The two buildings could fit inside my high school multiple times.

Dad shakes his head, his mouth lifting in amusement. “No. That one’s the elementary.” He points to the opposite building. “K through eight.”

I cough. “You’re kidding?”

“There are only three hundred people in the entire town. Your graduating class had more than that.”

I step from the car, stretching my legs. Peering down at my clothes, my pulse spikes. Dad wears a suit everywhere, but with the flight and the drive, I opted for comfort—cut-off sweats and a T-shirt. With fumbling fingers, I split my ponytail in two and yank at the sloppy do. Then, pulling at the ends of my faded, oversized Dr Pepper T-shirt, I attempt to flatten out the wrinkles. “Uhh, maybe I should change. I didn’t know we’d be going to her workplace.

“What did you think we’d be doing?”

“How was I supposed to know?” I flail my hands about, following him to the front of the school. “I assumed we’d be helping at the funeral and her house.”

The more I think about Amelia’s place, the more I itch to see under those boards and inside that box.

With a wave of his hand, he dismisses my worries. “It’s not as if you’ll see any of these people again.”

“I know that,” I gripe with another tug to my wrinkled shirt, “but they knew Amelia. They’ll soon know I’m her granddaughter.”

Dad groans. “Olivia, please.”