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"There you are."

I look up to find Mom in the doorway of the garden shed, her silver hair catching the late afternoon light. I didn't hearher approach, too lost in my thoughts and the quiet work of my hands among the soil.

"Just getting ready for spring planting," I say, though these particular seedlings aren't part of our regular lodge landscaping and we both know it.

"Mm-hmm." She steps into the shed, eyes traveling over the neat rows of trays, pausing on the ones I've just labeled. "Mountain laurel for the east trail overlook? The one where Daisy likes to sketch?"

"It's good for erosion control." But my ears burn as I tamp down another seedling into its tray.

"Of course." She settles on a stool near my workbench, her casual posture betrayed by the intent look in her eyes. The one that always preceded difficult conversations when I was growing up. "Beautiful morning for a hike. Did Daisy enjoy the waterfall?"

So that's where this is going. "She did."

"And the blind you built her? That's quite a gesture, Rowan."

I focus on measuring the next piece of wood, avoiding her gaze. "It’s not like I built it from scratch. That old thing needed restoring for quite some time."

"Practical." She nods sagely. "Like the carved animals and the tea shelf built to her exact height?"

I set down my tools with a sigh. "Mom."

"I had an interesting call this morning," she says instead of pushing further. "From Janet, Daisy's editor."

Something cold settles in my stomach. "Oh?"

"She was quite excited about some opportunity for Daisy. Something about a major bookstore chain featuring her as their spotlight new author." Mom's voice is carefully neutral, but her eyes never leave my face. "Apparently there's a big launch event planned in New York. With some famous children's book advocate hosting."

The cold spreads through my chest. "Sounds like a big deal."

"It is. National promotion, events at forty stores across the country. The kind of opportunity most new authors only dream about." She pauses. "The kind of opportunity that would mean a lot of time in the city. Travel. Publicity."

"Good for her." The words taste like ash. "She deserves it."

"She does." Mom watches me carefully. "Janet mentioned they need her back promptly for meetings, photo shoots, planning sessions. The works."

Each word is another nail in the coffin of whatever foolish hope had started growing this morning. Of course Daisy has to go back. Of course she has this amazing career waiting. Of course what we shared, whatever it might be becoming, can't compete with a dream come true.

I pick up the sandpaper again, needing something to do with my hands. "Did she tell you anything else?"

"Just that Daisy seemed conflicted when she finally called back." Mom's voice softens. "Janet's known her for a long time. Says she's never heard her sound so torn about what should be the easiest 'yes' of her career."

Hope flares briefly, painful in its intensity, before common sense extinguishes it. "She'd be crazy to turn down an opportunity like that."

"Would she?"

"It's her dream, Mom. Her career. Everything she's worked for."

"Dreams can change, Rowan. They can expand to include new things. New people,” she says.

I think of Heather, how she promised these mountains were enough, how quickly that changed when reality set in. "Not everyone is built for this life. The isolation, the quiet, the distance from everything."

"Daisy seems to love it here."

"For two weeks." The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. "It's easy to love something when you know it's temporary. When it's an escape, not reality."

Mom is quiet for a long moment. When she speaks, her voice is gentle but firm. "Is that what you think? That what she feels for the lodge, for you, is just a vacation romance?"

I don't answer directly. "Did you know she thought I was a mysterious forest hermit when we first met? Like something out of one of her romance novels."