Chapter 1

It was very late by the time Alice and I finally arrived at Charlie's.

I'd planned to be here a lot earlier but our flight had been delayed because of bad weather and the drive from Seattle had been a long one, over dark roads made slick by the earlier rain. I felt exhausted as I pulled into the driveway, my eyes gritty and my nerves strained. I'd been running on adrenaline and caffeine for too long and now, as I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath, letting the moist night air into my lungs, all the emotions I'd been working so hard to repress threatened my composure.

Somehow, this wasn't how I had imagined myself returning to Forks, Washington.

Divorced, thirty-six year old single mother, living in her late father's home in a town known primarily for its meteorological gloominess.

Frankly, I'd never really imagined myself returning at all.

Then again, it was still hard to accept that Charlie was gone, so clearly my faith in my imaginings needed serious re-evaluation.

It wasn't that he'd been a regular presence in my life. Growing up, I'd lived with Renee most of the time. But I'd spent my summers here and Charlie had always stayed in touch. Cards on my birthday, a call on the holidays. A three year subscription to Junior Angler the year I'd turned ten. He'd been a constant in my life, a man of few words to be sure, but always proud of me, always there for me when I'd needed a respite from Renee and her loving but slightly off-kilter world view.

He'd retired from the force in February. Fifty-five, he'd taken a buyout that the county had offered and set about planning his retirement. From what he'd told me on the phone when we'd talked, his plans had consisted of fishing, more fishing and for a change of pace, angling. The irony was, the fishing season in Washington state was still two weeks away from opening when he'd collapsed at his friend Billy Black's, the victim of a massive cardiac arrest. They'd called 911 and the paramedics had worked on him all the way to the hospital but in the end, there'd been nothing they could do. He'd never even gotten to drop a line in the water.

His heart just gave out.

I'd gotten the call from the hospital the same day the final divorce decree was delivered via special courier to the townhouse I'd moved into with Alice after Jasper and I split up. All in all, not a date I planned on celebrating on an annual basis.

I'd flown out for the memorial, reluctantly leaving Alice with Jasper in Atlanta. I had custody; he had visitation, two weekends a month and every other Christmas. I hadn't asked if Lauren would be there with them, living in our old house, sleeping in our old bed. I already knew the answer to that question and there was no point in pouring salt in wounds that were just starting to heal.

Renee and Phil had come from Florida, too and even though my mom could drive me crazy at times, she'd been a rock throughout the whole ordeal. She'd talked to the minister and picked out the hymns and arranged for the flowers to be delivered to the funeral home. The funeral had been standing room only and I'd lost count of the number of people who'd come up to me at the reception afterwards to tell me how much they'd admired Charlie and how much he was going to be missed.

For a man of few words, he'd touched a lot of lives, usually for the better.

I missed him terribly.

I opened the car door and looked at my daughter, sleeping in the backseat. She'd finally fallen asleep just outside of Port Angeles and now she was bent over, her slender neck canted at an impossible angle, her mouth open slightly as she snored.

"Sweetheart," I whispered, shaking her shoulder lightly. Alice's only response was a soft grunt. She was out like a light. I leaned in, struggling to undo the seatbelt, which was stretched tightly across her boneless, comatose body. I shook her again. "Alice? We're here. Wake up." She blinked and yawned wide, rubbing her eyes.

"Mom?"

"Come on, Ally," I said gently, helping her from the car. I picked up my purse and slung it over my shoulder. I locked the car and ferried her towards the house. She stumbled, her sandals catching in the gravel path. I caught her, barely.

Like mother, like daughter when it came to coordination.

She'd inherited my eyes, my dark hair, my pale complexion. My love of the written word. And my ability to fall on my face on a perfectly flat, perfectly solid surface. As a result, when her kindergarten class had been learning their telephone numbers as part of their "Me and My Community" unit, she'd been the only one in the class who'd also memorized the name and policy number of our health insurance provider.

We stood on the porch together, Alice swaying a little, groggy and a little bit cranky at being woken so unceremoniously. I scrambled in my purse, searching for the manila envelope Charlie's solicitors had mailed to me. I found it and ripped it open.

The keys dropped into my hand and more by feel than sight, since the porch lights were off and the streetlights' weak orange glow barely reached beneath the overhang, I slotted them into the deadbolt. It turned and we walked into the house.

It was musty, with that close, airless smell that houses get when they're locked up for any length of time. I switched on the light in the kitchen and we both blinked a little, our eyes adjusting.

There was a note on the counter. It was from Leah and Jacob Black, Billy's son and daughter-in-law. I scanned Leah's neat handwriting. They'd been by and stocked the fridge with perishables and made up the beds in anticipation of our arrival. They wanted me to call when we got in. Billy sent his love. Sue did, too. They'd stop by tomorrow and help us unpack. The note was cheerful and loving and full of unspoken concern for me and Alice. It made me tear up involuntarily.

I sighed. The moving truck was scheduled to arrive at 9am. It had travelled west ahead of us; we'd followed in the plane.

"Come on, sweetheart," I urged, leading Alice towards the stairs. She shuffled towards my old room with heavy feet. For once, I didn't insist on teeth or washing up. There are nights to do battle and there are nights when you just have to concede. Tonight was definitely one of the latter.

Alice kicked off her sandals and flopped into bed, her lashes dark against her cheeks. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, winnowing down into the bed like a small mole. Even as a baby, she'd slept like that, the blankets twisted around her like a strange, fabric burrow. I pulled the quilt over her, knowing that no matter how smoothly it lay now, it would be a tangled, chaotic mess by morning and slipped out of the room to the linen closet at the top of the stairs.

I gathered some sheets, a spare pillow and a blanket and headed back downstairs.

The house only had two bedrooms. My room – Alice's room, now – and Charlie's. Tomorrow, I'd have to figure out what to do with it, how I would handle moving his things out and my things in.

But not tonight.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was curl up on the sofa in the living room and snatch a few hours sleep, before I had to begin the gargantuan task of rebuilding my life from scratch.