Aurora paused to glance around the welcoming porch. Off to one side sat a row of six oversized rocking chairs that had been crafted from tree branches. Between each was a polished tree stump large enough to hold a couple cups of coffee and maybe a cell phone or two. A long, beige and black braided rug ran the length of the porch in front of them. To her other side, a carved wooden sign hung above a row of wooden pegs. It read: WELCOME TO LIVING THE GOOD LIFE FISHING RETREAT. Rain suits hung from the pegs with tall rubber boots placed neatly on the floor beneath.
“Most people bring their own rain gear, but we keep spare gear on hand in case they didn’t know to bring it or forgot it when they were packing. Weather here can be quite unpredictable. Even in the summer months. Sunny one moment, windy and raining the next. So rain gear is essential on fishing trips and handy for venturing about on rainy days.”
Aurora pulled her camera from its bag and snapped a picture of the porch.
The door opened, and a young woman with long dark hair, just a hint lighter than Gage’s, came out in a flurry of smiles. “You must be Aurora!”
“I am,” Aurora replied with a smile as she hurried to return her camera to the bag at her hips.
“My sister, Julia,” Gage offered up with a chuckle.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Julia.” She guessed Gage’s sister to be close to her in age.
“Same,” she replied. “We’re so glad to have you here at the retreat. Reed said you’re a professional photographer.”
“I am,” Aurora answered again with a glance in Gage’s direction.
“Have you ever?—”
“How about we allow Aurora to get inside before bombarding her with all those questions I know are whirling about in your head?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Julia jumped aside. “Come on in.”
Laughing softly, Aurora stepped past her into the main lodge. If she thought she’d been taken by the outside, she was even more charmed by the inside. The room was open concept with a small check-in counter to the right. Next to it was a rack of long-sleeved T-shirts in various colors and sizes. Across the back of the shirts was the retreat’s logo, a bent fishing pole with the fishing line disappearing into rippling water, mountains in the background. Below the almost lifelike drawing was the retreat’s name and location.
“Reed did the artwork for our shirts,” Julia said as she stepped up beside Aurora.
“About ten years ago,” another male voice joined in.
Aurora turned to find Gage’s younger brother had joined them. “Hello again.”
“Glad you could join us,” he replied. “And I should be clear that the shirts are new. The drawing, however, I did ten years ago for my dad for Father’s Day. Mom loved it so much it became our business logo. I promise I’ve gotten better since then.”
“He has,” Gage agreed.
“I don’t see anything wrong with this drawing, but I did see the artwork you did on Gage’s floatplane, and it’s beautiful.”
Reed’s chest puffed out ever so slightly.
“Nobody told me our guest had arrived.”
Aurora looked past Reed to see a tall, slender woman with salt-and-pepper hair. More pepper than salt. Gage had clearly inherited his mother’s big, bright, toothy smile.
“We just got here,” Gage said in his own defense. “Mom, this is Aurora Daniels. Aurora, this is our mother, Constance Weston.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Weston.”
“Constance,” his mother insisted. “And it’s a pleasure to have you here. Reed tells us you’re a famous photographer.”
Aurora looked at Gage’s younger brother, who shrugged with an innocent smile. “I’m not sure famous is a word I would use to describe myself. But I have won several awards.” Her gaze traveled about the room. “Your place is so inviting.” Its open concept with the floor-to-ceiling fireplace and windows made the lodge feel warm and homey.
Gage’s mother smiled. “Thank you. We want our guests to feel at home here.”
Movement at the back of the room drew Aurora’s attention that way. A man, not quite as tall as Gage and Reed, and with less bulk, came in, his gait slightly off as he moved toward them. A slow smile spread across his face, lines etching the outer corners of his eyes. The same marks Gage and Reed had when they grinned but with deeper lines etched into them. He had to be their father.
“Hello. Welcome to Living the Good Life F-Fishing Retreat,” the man offered in greeting as he moved to stand next to Gage’s mother.
Aurora returned his smile. “Hello, and thank you for the warm welcome.”
