Chapter One
Zo Jones pulled open the door to her deck, convinced she’d seen her cat, George, sauntering along the back fence. My cat—right, thought Zo. If he was my cat, he’d come home. The orange-and-white fur ball had been a menace ever since she’d adopted him from the shelter six months ago. First, he shredded her one good chair, then contracted an expensive ear infection, and after he was cured, he took off at the first sign of spring. Zo was starting to think he didn’t like her. Pausing in the warm sunshine, she couldn’t completely blame him. The nice weather was giving her spring fever, too. Like the tourists, she wanted to be outside, enjoying the canyon.
In the heart of Black Hills National Forest, the canyon was the reason most tourists came to Spirit Canyon, the small town named for the landmark. They filled up on food, gas, and souvenirs before taking the twisty drive into one of the most beautiful byways of the hills. Zo had been here so long she could have been numb to its beauty. But she wasn’t. Mornings such as these still had the ability to move her, and she stood for a while staring into the distance. Like a paintbrush dabbed in gold, the sun moved across the treetops, highlighting the jagged forest cutting along the bright blue ridge of sky.
Hearing a sound at the fence, Zo walked down the deck steps into her tiny backyard, her flip-flops slapping against her feet. As the owner of Happy Camper, an eclectic gift shop, she had no need to dress up. She wore short shorts, a long sweater, and silver earrings that hung past her shaggy inverted bob. She also wore a lovely blue scarf, one of many she splurged on at the local Cut Hut. Today’s creation, tied into a headband, fell to her shoulders, brushing the Archer tattoo on her right shoulder. She was a Sagittarius.
The gate creaked as she pushed it open. If George had been there, he’d heard her and was gone. Instead, Dr. Russell Cunningham, an English professor at Black Mountain College, greeted her. Bent down near the side of his house and wearing a straw hat and leather gloves, he looked a little like a garden gnome, wrinkled but in a cute way. Unfortunately, this garden gnome talked—a lot.
“Lost your cat again, Zo?” he said. His voice was like sandpaper, rough from overuse in lectures.
“I’ve decided he’s not really my cat. He’s the neighborhood’s cat.” She dislodged a rock from her sandal. “Have you seen him?”
“He’s been here.” He pointed a leather-gloved finger toward a struggling patch of green. “Obviously.”
She shrugged. She didn’t see anything except Cunningham’s poor attempt at a garden. He thought all English professors should garden in the summer, probably because of something he read or something a dead author said. What he was good at was drinking, late and often. He made the best rum cocktail—he called it The Hemingway—she’d ever tasted. “I thought you were giving up gardening after last year’s fiasco.”
Squinting into the sun, he readjusted his straw hat so he could see her better. “Those were bad seeds. Ms. Mork sold them to me on purpose. She’s always been keen on me.”
Cunningham was under the delusion that all women in Spirit Canyon over the age of fifty-five had a crush on him. He was handsome, in an eccentric sort of way. He had a lot of white hair and crystal blue eyes full of expression. “If that’s true, why would she sell you bad seeds?”
“So I’d come back, naturally,” said Cunningham, smiling.
“Naturally.”
“If I see your cat,” he said, “I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Cunningham.” She kept walking down the hill, to the front of her story-and-a-half cedar cabin, which also functioned as her business. Happy Camper, distinguishable by its sign showing a Volkswagen van and colorful peace symbol, was below her upstairs living quarters. She sold locally made gifts, souvenirs, and memorabilia. She also rented mountain bikes and kayaks and, with advance notice and an additional charge, even gave tours, much to the chagrin of Max Harrington. Max was a local forest ranger who thought all guides should have a degree in forestry. He said a shop owner had no business dabbling in the adventure industry. But Spirit Canyon had lots of stores that were multifunctional, and Zo’s was no different. Besides, no one knew the area better than she did. As far as she was concerned, she had all the expertise she needed to introduce newbies to the area.
She unlocked one of the bikes from the key on her coil bracelet. After this weekend, renters would have first dibs on the equipment. It was the Friday before Memorial Day, which meant the official start of tourist season. Though she looked forward to the increase in business, what she was really excited for was seeing her childhood friend, Beth Everett. Beth had just relocated to the canyon with her family. Her aunt Lilly had died a year ago and left her Spirit Canyon Lodge, a premier hotel in the canyon. This weekend would be their first chance to spend time together since the funeral, and Zo couldn’t wait. She’d spent lots of summers with Beth at the lodge. Now, twenty years later, she would spend another.
But she wouldn’t be able to survive the holiday weekend without coffee, and she was completely out. She put on her black Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, tossed a leg over the bike, and sailed down the hill, the crisp pine-scented air providing the wakeup call that caffeine hadn’t.
She applied the brake as she approached downtown Spirit Canyon, a mere block away. It was the prettiest little mountain town she’d ever seen, and now, one of the trendiest. Nature lovers of all ages flocked to Spirit Canyon for its granola vibe. Although small, the town had all the amenities of a larger city: three coffee shops, two bookstores, several restaurants, a wine bar, and even an opera house with a thriving theater company.
Parking her bike at Green Market, the downtown grocery store, she took a moment to peruse the fresh produce outside. The enormous watermelons would entice more than a few weekend shoppers, but not Zo, who only bought for one person. She selected a bunch of grapes and a ripe, red apple before entering the store.
“Good morning, Zo,” said a woman standing behind one of the three checkouts. It was the owner, Virginia Palmer, whose store aisles were well stocked and her employees well versed on healthy food.
“Good morning.” Zo pushed up her sunglasses. “Outta coffee.”
“How’s business?”
“Good,” said Zo. “You?”
“Can’t complain.” Virginia shrugged.
Zo nodded and kept walking to the organic pasta aisle. Virginia was a smart woman; she knew her customers appreciated organic, GMO-free options. There wasn’t a noodle, lo mein, or vegan alternative she wasn’t willing to order. Zo counted five pasta varieties just passing through.
Since it was early, shoppers were sparse but filled in quickly as the minutes passed. Memorial Day weekend was fast approaching, and that meant picking up supplies for weekend barbeques and events. Zo stopped at the meat counter, which was running a special on hamburger, and requested a single patty. It was only slightly humiliating, she decided. She was thirty-three and temporarily out of boyfriends. Chances were, she’d be eating alone this holiday.
She put the hamburger in the cart and kept walking. She might not even need it. Beth had invited her to the lodge for the grand opening. They might grab something to eat on the holiday. Still, it’d been five years since the lodge was open to guests. Even with the renovations completed, Beth might have her hands full.
A woman with chestnut brown hair rummaged through the low bins in the spice aisle, and Zo stopped, wondering if it was Beth, or if she’d been thinking about her so much that she imagined it was. As if feeling Zo’s eyes on her, the woman looked up, and Zo knew it wasn’t her imagination.
“Beth!” Zo rushed to greet her, practically bowling her over in excitement. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”
Beth stood, and they hugged for a full minute. Beth was tall and slim with a pretty style, simple but chic. And flowers! She’d loved flowers since they were kids. She always wore something floral—a scarf, a barrette, or earrings. Today it was her Vera Bradley handbag covered in purple wildflowers.
“Oh, my gosh,” said Beth. “It’s great to see you. I’ve been thinking about you for days, and here you are.”
Zo laughed. “Same. It’s like I pulled you out of my imagination.”
“You’re planning on coming to the grand opening on Saturday, right?”
“Of course,” said Zo. “I’m going to write about it in my column.” The Curious Camper, which ran every week in the Canyon Views newspaper, was a short column related to all things in the area. Since Zo had been a writer for the Black Hills Star before opening her store, it was a natural fit. Plus her shop kept her up-to-date with area trends. Zo indicated out the window. “Do you have time to grab a quick cup of coffee across the street? I open at ten.”
“If it’s quick. I have guests coming this afternoon. Let me just check one thing.” Beth scanned the spices one last time. “Dang. No turmeric.”
“Don’t worry,” said Zo. “The bike shop up the street probably sells it. Spokes and Stuff. They have an entire section of spices.”
“Really? The bike shop? I wouldn’t have guessed. Thanks.”
Zo nodded. Spirit Canyon was unique, modern, and diverse.
They approached the cashier, and Zo paid for her groceries, then waited as Beth checked out. “You haven’t changed,” said Zo. Even as a girl, Beth wore leggings and flats, the same attire she had on today.
“You haven’t either.”
Zo chuckled. “My hair is way different. I cut it off a few months ago.” It was the day she broke up with Hunter, who used to say how much he loved her long blond hair. Turned out, he loved it more than she did.
“I noticed,” said Beth. “I love it.” She paid the cashier, and they walked out the door with their grocery sacks. Zo gave Virginia a wave good-bye.
“This is me,” Beth said as they approached a red SUV, where she placed their perishables in the cooler. Zo noted the items in the trunk were arranged by size and purpose. No wonder she’d been an event planner at a famous Chicago hotel. She was meticulously organized.
“Have you been to Honey Buns?” asked Zo.
Beth shook her head and relocked the SUV.
“It’s new.” Zo gestured to the store. “It has great coffee and a bakery.”
“Perfect,” Beth agreed. “I’ll need all the carbs I can get to finish my shopping list.”
Zo led her across the two-way street. She pulled open the door, and the bell buzzed like a bee.
Beth grinned. “How fun!”
It really was a fun new store. The croissants, scones, and muffins tasted as good as they smelled. Zo should know; she’d tried them all. Behind the display case were buns, bagels, and specialty breads. Pumpernickel was her favorite, this week anyway.
The shelves on the opposite wall were filled with jars of chokecherry, blackberry, and rhubarb jams, as well as several variations of South Dakota’s state product, honey. Looking like a tourist, Beth browsed the shelves, and after a few minutes, approached the register with an armload of merchandise. A few items spilled onto the counter as she ordered pain au chocolate and espresso. Zo ordered the same, and they selected a table as they waited for their drinks.
Beth picked up her pastry. “I don’t know if chocolate is the best choice for breakfast.”
Zo waved away her concern. “It’s the perfect choice for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Trust me. You’ll love it.”
Beth took a bite. “You’re right. It’s heavenly.”
The barista brought out their espressos, served in tiny cups decorated with pictures of beehives. Zo took a sip, letting the brew awaken her senses. No matter how many healthy smoothies she tried, they couldn’t replace good old-fashioned caffeine.
“So what have you been up to?” asked Beth.
“Mostly working—and looking for my cat, George. I see him stalk by the window late at night sometimes.” She took another sip of her coffee. “It’s pathetic.”
Beth frowned. “He won’t come in?”
“Every time I try to grab him, he dodges me. He’s as quick as lightning for a fat guy. He still comes home to eat.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s something.”
“You know how cats get in the spring,” said Beth. “They want outside, constantly.”
“Do you have a cat?” Zo tried to imagine Beth rolling her clothes with a lint roller. Nope, she couldn’t picture her dealing with cat fur.
Beth shook her head. “How is the store?”
“The store is great,” said Zo. “I have a full-time employee in the summer, Harley Stiles. You have to meet her. She’s been with me since the beginning.”
“It looks adorable,” said Beth. “I’ve been meaning to stop in, but getting the lodge ready for this weekend has taken all of my time.”
“Don’t worry,” said Zo. “I understand how hard it is opening a business.” A shot of anger pulsed through her as she remembered how she had to start her business—twice. After her year lease was up, old man Merrigan decided to use her previous space himself. That’s when she moved to her new location, a block from downtown. Moving was a painful subject for her, so she tamped down the bad feelings and refocused on Beth. “Are you ready for this weekend?”
Beth wrinkled her nose, finishing her sweet. “I think so. I worked at the Waldorf Astoria for ten years coordinating weddings. A lodge in the Black Hills should be a breeze, right?”
Zo nodded, but her friend didn’t sound as confident as she looked.
“My mom’s been great with social media, and Jack has been better at repairs than I thought he would be. The girls love the place. But it’s still hard.”
Zo understood. “You miss Lilly?”
“I do.” Beth offered a small smile. “Coming back here has brought back so many memories. Good memories—but sad at the same time. I’m starting to go through her things.”
“I miss her, too.” Abandoned at birth, Zo used to think of Spirit Canyon Lodge as home. Foster homes came and went, but the lodge never changed. The people, the food, the friendship—they were what she imagined family felt like. When Beth told her she was coming back to reopen the lodge, Zo felt like a piece of herself was returning.
“She loved you, you know,” said Beth. “Loved the way you used to ride your bike through the canyon like the devil was chasing you.” She chuckled. “Remember that old ten-speed?”
“How could I forget?” Zo laughed. The blue bike had taken her everywhere.
A man in a green forest ranger uniform tapped on the window, startling them.
“Great,” said Zo. “It’s Smokey the Bear.”
“Who’s that?”
“Max Harrington. He’s a forest ranger.”
Max entered the bakery and strode over to their table in two large steps. His light brown hair was clean-cut, and the creases on his shirtsleeves framed his muscular arms. Everything about him said wholesome, except his eyes. They were blue, dead serious, and directed at her.
“I’m not going to tell you again that you need to get registration decals on your kayaks, Zo,” Max said. “If you don’t, I’m reporting you myself.”
Zo ignored him, speaking to Beth. “Max thinks he’s the official law and order around here. He’s always busting my chops over some sticker or another.”
“I’m a Law Enforcement Officer for the National Forest Service,” Max snapped. “I am the official law and order around here.”
Zo rolled her eyes. “Please.”
Beth gave him a sunny smile. “Hi. I’m Elizabeth Everett, but everyone calls me Beth. My family and I just moved into Spirit Canyon Lodge. We’re the new owners.”
Max held out his hand. Zo decided it looked like a large paw. “You have a gorgeous place up there. I’m glad to see it reopening.”
“Thank you,” said Beth. “I spent lots of summers here as a kid—that’s how I know Zo.”
Max turned his attention back to Zo. “Look. I know you think I’m picking on you, but I’m not. It’s the law, and I don’t want to see you get in trouble. Just get them on there, all right?”
Zo gave him the okay sign.
“It was nice meeting you, Beth,” Max said.
Beth nodded, and he was gone.
“Bear or not, he’s cute,” said Beth.
Zo shook her head. She was not having this conversation.
“So what’s this about decals?” asked Beth.
“He’s right.” Zo reached for her sweater, which she’d hung on the back of her chair, and tied it around her waist. The decals needed to be on the kayaks before the busy weekend. “I have to get them on there. I meant to do it yesterday.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Beth pushed back her chair. “I’ve told the kids all about you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Zo hadn’t met Jack or the children at Lilly’s funeral. They’d stayed behind because Beth’s daughter had just started middle school. “Did you tell them it’s haunted?”
“What? The lodge?” Beth adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “I stayed there for years and never saw a thing.”
Zo smiled. “No, you city slicker. Spirit Canyon.”
Chapter Two
Saturday was always Zo’s busiest day at Happy Camper, when weekend travelers did most of their shopping. Today was no exception. The moment she flipped the sign to Open at ten o’clock, she had a steady stream of customers. It took both her and Harley to answer questions and ring up sales. It wasn’t until the afternoon lull that she was able to restock her Happy Camper line of merchandise.
Designed with fun colors, fonts, and flowers, it was incredibly popular because of its positive messages like Happy Camper, Day Dream Believer, and Flower Sniffer. She’d just received new stoneware mugs from Demarco, the artist who designed the line for her, and they read, Half full. She put them next to the coasters and tea towels. Then she grabbed the s’more-shaped sugar cubes, added them to the display, and stood back to admire her work. Nice! Everybody needed a little more happiness in their day.
That was the idea, to surround herself and others with things that inspired happiness, and so far it had worked. It made her day when she saw someone standing next to the greeting cards, smiling and picking one out for a friend. With Paul Simon’s Graceland album playing in the background, the afternoon sun streaming in the large storefront windows, and her upcoming visit to Spirit Canyon Lodge, she decided this was her Cloud Nine.
“You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you?” Harley crossed her arms in front of her. At twenty, she had all the spark and fire Zo had at her age—plus math skills. She balanced Zo’s books with pinpoint accuracy and was incredibly kind. If she was the future, Zo was investing in her.
“What thing?” said Zo, but a smile touched the corners of her lips.
“The embracing-your-happiness thing.” It was a technique they’d learned in a gratitude journaling class. The speaker said to take one minute every hour to embrace the happiness in your life right now. Zo was convinced it was working.
“Okay, I am, but these are so darn cute,” said Zo. “Don’t you think?”
Harley sauntered over to the display. Willowy and tall, she was dressed in a camouflage shirt and black jeans. “They’re adorable. What about the honey sticks?”
“Right,” Zo said. “I should order some more.”
Harley walked toward the counter. “I’ll do it. You’ve got that thing to go to.”
Zo checked the wall clock. It was after four, and she wanted to get to the lodge early. Beth was having a chuck wagon supper. “Are you sure?”
“Yep,” said Harley. “Positive.”
“Okay.” Zo grabbed her backpack from under the counter. “I’ll get George. It’s supposed to storm tonight, so I want him inside.”
“Good luck with that.”
Zo started toward the door, noting how homey the store felt. When she first moved to this location, she worried it wouldn’t be the same, that she wouldn’t like it as much as her downtown storefront. As it turned out, she liked it even better. It was the home she’d always dreamed of. It looked happy, and nothing said camper like a cedar cabin. With its corner location, she decided it was the best of both worlds. Downtown was a block away, and home was just upstairs.
Something furry brushed against the back of her legs as she pulled the door shut. She froze, knowing in an instant it was George. This was as close as he’d come in a long time, except to visit his food dish, which he emptied sometime after she went to bed. Carefully, she turned around. He rolled to his back, scratching on the gravel parking lot.
“Hey, George.”
He meowed a response.
She bent down slowly and rubbed his chin. “I see your ears still look good.”
He answered by rolling to his other side, his white stripes of fur brown from the dirt.
She petted him a long time before making her move. It was now or never. A thunderstorm was predicted for the area, so he couldn’t stay outside tonight. Spring storms could be dangerous.
She stood and slowly reopened the door of Happy Camper. He didn’t bolt. He was watching her. Putting her finger to her lips, she warned Harley not to make a sound. She tiptoed to the cash register, where she had a can of whitefish tuna stashed below the counter. She pulled back the metal tab. The smell of fish filled the small shop, and George st. . .
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