Page 18

The black puffer jacket Nick had given me the night before was warm, but I only had a sweater underneath it.If I had my usual closet, I would have layered more. The next-to-zero temperature was the kind of cold Tennessee wasn’t used to. We had mild winters with random cold snaps, but it still only got below freezing at night more often than not. Now, it was twelve degrees.
“Before you go in—” Nick reached into the back and pulled out a black duffel. “—I got you this while you were showering.”
“A bag? Why?”
“In case it really does snow and you get trapped here.”
I rolled my eyes. “I won’t?—”
“Stella, do it for my sake. Itcouldsnow, and out here in the country, it might be worse.”
His voice was firm, which was unusual for him. While I knew there was no way it would happen like the weather people predicted, the worry in his eyes was obvious.
“Fine.” I took the bag from his outstretched hand. “But I’m telling you. We aren’t getting that much snow.”
“We could make a bet?” he asked.
“I thought you already had one.”
“This one is different. It won’t involve money.”
“Then what are the stakes?”
“Pride.”
I didn’t have much of that right now, but Nick’s worried glances on the way over told me I needed to pretend that I was okay.
“I’ll take those odds. If I win, I’ll never let you live it down that you were wrong.”
“More like I’ll never letyoulive it down.”
I got out of his warm car into the bitter elements. “Bye!” I called as I shut the door.
The wind blew right through my coat as I ran into Amma’s house. Her wooden porch creaked under my feet in a familiar way as I got to the old screen door.
Nick and I spent a lot of time here as kids in the summers when Mom and Dad didn’t have childcare. Amma was Mom’s mom, and had had a heavy hand in raising us all.
We both had good memories here. Amma always ensured we had fun, whether chasing the neighbor’s chickens or jumping into the lake half a mile from her house.
Walking into her small log farmhouse felt like a warm hug I desperately needed. It was a simple abode with a meager living room adorned with an ancient woodburning stove, keeping the house warm in the cooler months. Behind it was the kitchen, and two bedrooms sat on the left side.
Most of the curtains on the windows were closed, giving it a cozy, darkened feel. The air smelled like the burning wood in the stove, coupled with the warm scent of cinnamon.
“Amma!” I called when I got inside. “I’m here to help you clean off your porch!”
“I’m back in the kitchen,” she replied. I shrugged off my coat and went in search of her.
I nearly had a heart attack when I found herbalancing on a ladder, looking at something above the cabinets.
“Oh my God,” I hissed. “What are you doing up there?”
“Dusting,” she said. “It gets so bad up here over time.”
“Dusting? Before a snowstorm?”
“Well, I cleaned the insides of the windows and figured, why not do up here? I don’t have the time to clean in the spring. I’m too busy in the garden.”
“I’ll finish it,” I said. “Just get down.”