Page 7 of Penalties and Proposals

As the foursome trot ahead of me to the lobby exit, I turn around one last time, trying to catch a last glimpse of Willa. I don’t see her, which is probably just as well. Gives me more time to think about what I will say when we’re together the next time, because let’s face it: she’s got to take my pictures and the town is only so big.

CHAPTER 4

WILLA

My morning routineis like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup: it consists of two great things that go together. Nothing starts my morning better than a hot cup of coffee and a good, brisk walk. My mother got me into this habit on one of my trips back to Harper’s Ferry.

She likes getting her coffee and sitting on the porch first, watching the birds, then she hops up and goes on a loop near her house, getting her steps in. I wasn’t there for a day before she had me convinced we could solve all of the world’s problems together on that porch, sipping our coffee and watching the birds go by and then putting our thoughts into action once our feet hit the ground.

Only today, I’m in Maple Falls so coffee was in my room, but when I realized I had some free time this morning, I decided to devote an hour to hunting down the Blue Rock Thrush. This bird has only been seen once in the US, leading scientists and conservationists at the Smithsonian Museum to believe that it should be on the endangered list. When Mom read in one of her birding magazines that a reward was being offered for any photos taken of this bird, she’d called me and made sure I knew all about it before my trip.

When I asked at reception where the best birdwatching spots were, I was treated to a look of shock—probably because the whole town is literally bursting with people talking about ice hockey and only ice hockey. Luckily, the concierge at The Regent’s Hotel had kindly pointed out a park area he knew of where I’d find plenty of wildlife, and it was accessible from our location downtown.

The trail near The Regent’s is a serene escape. It winds gently through the park, bordered by large oak and maple trees bursting with autumnal colors like burnt orange, flaming reds, and bright yellow hues. Benches made of weathered wood are strategically placed along the way, inviting you to pause and take in the natural beauty around you.

But even all of this gorgeous outdoor space can’t stop the repetition of “he’s here” that is going around and around in my mind. It’s not that I’ve wasted my time thinking about Noah every day for the last few years. Okay, I may have had some thoughts here and there, but I’m not a woman obsessed. Of course, I heard that he was dealing with addiction, and I truly feel bad for him. I’ll never know what it’s like to walk in his shoes, but if he was busy doing his steps in the program, shouldn’t he have reached out and apologized to me?

Wow. I can’t help but laugh out loud at that thought. Thinking that someone like me, the girl on the other side of the camera, would make so much of a difference in someone’s journey to sobriety that they’d want to get in touch to clear the air is ridiculous, as much as my thinking he needed to include me in his program steps. Maybe I’m the narcissist here, but seriously. I can’t help it; the man makes my hair stand on end.

I’d like to scream and ask the heavens above “What are the odds?” But, seeing that I chose to stay in the field of sports photography and he’s an ice hockey player, the odds are pretty good. I’ve managed for over two years not to run into Noah, and the irony is not escaping me that when I finally do I’m not onlynot prepared, but he’s actually been thrown in front of me to work with.

It’s like forced proximity, but my job is at stake. A job I need to take so I can help my mother out. That last visit home, sitting on her porch, she’d revealed that the bank had threatened to foreclose her antiques shop. It’s attached to our family home, a business she’d started with my father years ago. Under normal circumstances, I might have encouraged her to let it happen. Close the shop, sell the house, dump her responsibility. Then I could move her closer to wherever I end up, but that’s not what we’re dealing with. She’s more independent than that and I know she’d wither up like a wilted flower if she lost the shop.

Cutting down one of the paths, I spot a bridge crossing over a little stream. I walk over slowly, splashing in the water catching my attention. When I get to the bridge and look down, finding a pair of otters holding hands and swimming together, my kind-of-icy heart warms slightly. Snapping a few pictures, I make a mental note to send some to my mother later. They’ll make her smile.

“Willa? Is that you?”

Spinning around, I’m surprised and also elated to see Harlow Lemieux, an old friend from college.

Grabbing her into a hug, I pull her close. “Harlow, I am genuinely happy and shocked to see you.” Stepping away, we both clutch one another’s arms and laugh.

“I have so much to tell you, but I’m in a hurry. Short version, I won a weekend away and so ta-da, I’m here!”

“That’s so cool, congrats on the win.”

“Very unexpected, but the timing was right. Hey, randomly, are you going to the Harrisons’ party tonight?” she asks, tilting her head inquisitively.

“Those are the owners of the local bookstore, right?” I ask and she nods. Shaking my head, I sling my camera over my shoulder. “They were kind enough to reach out through themagazine and ask if I’d like to come, but to be honest with you, I need to sneak in as much solace as I can while I’m here.”

Harlow crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Things good with your mom?”

Of course she’d remember everything my family had been through. Harlow is one of the kindest, sweetest humans on planet Earth, despite her tough exterior.

“She’s doing okay, but this time it’s more about me.” I cast my eyes around the park to make sure no one is nearby to overhear us. I know, I’m not a CIA agent meeting a contact, but I am in a small town and we all know that in small towns, things get around. “Remember when we spoke a few years back at that impromptu college reunion and I’d just had that horrible experience on one of my photoshoots?”

“That was a good weekend.” She snorts before turning serious. Harlow, eyes wide, nods her head. “But, yes, I do remember that. You were wavering back and forth between upset and really mad.”

“Well, the guy who caused the upset and really mad? He’s here and the magazine I’m repping wants me to spend some ‘quality time’ with him, taking photos over the next month for a feature.”

“No!” Harlow gasps, grabbing both of my arms and pulling me close. “Do I know him?”

“Maybe?” I shrug. “His name is Noah—”

“Noah Beaumont? From The River City Renegades?”

Yes. I have someone on my side. I nod slowly, but what happens next makes my head spin.

A smile breaks across Harlow’s face, her lips curling upward as she says his name again. “Noah. What a sweetheart. I met him after Teddy’s practice the other night. He joined the guys late, so a few of them were taking him out to dinner for some bonding.”

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