"That dog is a menace to himself and others."
"That dog adores you." She sets down her mug. "And his owner seems pretty fond of you too."
"Mom." Warning creeps into my tone.
"I know, I know. You're not interested. You've got your walls up nice and high after what happened with?—"
"Don't."
She sighs. "Rowan, sweetheart. Not everyone leaves."
"Heather did." The words come out before I can stop them.
"Heather," Mom says carefully, "was never meant for mountain life. She made that very clear when she took that job in the city."
"After promising she loved it here. After saying she understood what the lodge meant to us." I grab my tools again, needing something to do with my hands. "After making me think..."
"Not everyone sees magic the way Daisy does," Mom says softly. "Some people just see trees and dirt and a life that's too quiet for them. But some people..." She gestures out the door, where Daisy's bright laugh carries from somewhere near the garden. "Some people see exactly what you used to see. Before you decided it was safer not to look."
"I have work to do."
"Yes, you do." She stands, pressing a kiss to my temple like she did when I was small. "But maybe it's not the kind you think."
She's almost to the door when I blurt out, "I made him a sweater."
She turns back. "What?"
"Rascal. He was shivering this morning when Daisy brought him out for his walk. I found an old baby sweater in the lost and found. Modified it a bit." I duck my head, fighting a smile at the memory of the tiny dog's excited wiggling as I fitted it on him. "It's practical. For safety. Can't have him getting sick and making Daisy worry..."
When I look up, Mom's giving me that soft look that makes me feel about five years old again.
"Don't," I warn.
"I didn't say anything." But her smile says plenty. "Though I did notice you used the purple yarn. The color Daisy said was her favorite when she was admiring my knitting yesterday."
"Pure coincidence."
"Of course." She pauses at the door. "You know, some people are worth lowering those walls for. Even if it's scary. Even if you're not sure they'll stay."
Late afternoon finds me hauling lumber to a small clearing off the east trail, definitely not thinking about how Daisy's face lights up every time she spots wildlife. The fact that this happens to be where deer often graze in the early morning is purely coincidental.
"That's an interesting project."
I nearly drop the boards at Connor's voice. My brother leans against a tree, looking far too amused for my comfort.
"It's maintenance," I mutter, resuming my work on what will eventually be a small viewing blind, carefully positioned to be unobtrusive while offering clear sightlines to the meadow.
"Maintenance, huh?" Connor pushes off the tree to help me position a beam. "You know, if Daisy needs help with wildlife observation, that's kind of my department. I could take her out on one of my guided tours."
The board I'm holding creaks under my suddenly tight grip. "She's fine."
"She tried to follow a deer yesterday, Row."
"Which is why I'm restoring the old blind." I focus on securing a joint, refusing to acknowledge the heat creeping up my neck. "Safe distance. Clear sight lines. Proper precautions."
"Right." Connor hands me another board. "And the new butterfly garden outside her cabin? That's for safety too?"
"The lodge needs more pollinator-friendly areas."
