Page 1 of Friends are Forever (Teton Mountain #6)
R eva Nygard sat at her desk, sipping lukewarm coffee and staring at a framed photo of Lucan. Who knew a three-year-old could run you ragged? And all before eight o’clock in the morning?
Every morning, before the sun crested over the Tetons, little Lucan climbed out of his bed and into hers, his warm, wiggly body tucking against her side, his tiny fingers tracing the curve of her face as he whispered, “ Mama, wake up .”
Before she could answer, a strong arm would wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, Kellen’s deep, sleepy voice murmuring, “ Give your mama a few more minutes, buddy.” But Lucan, all boundless energy and bright curiosity, never did.
He was up and running, calling for pancakes or his favorite dinosaur pajamas.
Kellen would sigh with exaggerated defeat before tossing the covers back and rolling out of bed to chase after their son.
Reva lay there for a moment longer, listening to their laughter—her boys—before slipping into the kitchen where Kellen was already flipping pancakes, Lucan on his shoulders, giggling at every little movement.
Smiling at the memory, Reva stood and made her way to the coffee pot on the other side of her office, remembering how Kellen would pull her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “ I love this life we’ve built .
” And so did she. Because for all the years she had spent being strong for everyone else, it turned out love—true, deep, unconditional love—was what had made her stronger than ever.
After filling her cup with hot coffee, she wandered to the window and gazed out.
Thunder Mountain was waking up. The crisp fall morning air carried the scent of pine, the town’s heartbeat already pulsing as shopkeepers flipped over “Open” signs and ranch trucks rumbled down Main Street.
A couple of early risers strolled along the wooden-planked sidewalk, waving as they passed.
This town. Her town.
Before she was a wife and mother, she’d spent years pouring herself into Thunder Mountain, the tiny community nestled at the base of the Teton Mountains in Wyoming—first as an attorney, and then as mayor.
She knew every pothole, every business owner, and every resident who needed a little extra grace but wouldn’t dare ask for it—and she gave it freely.
When Merck Taylor, the county assessor, got a little heavy-handed with property valuations, she didn’t scold him.
Instead, she invited him for coffee, gently steering the conversation toward the town’s hardworking families and the burden of rising costs until he sighed, adjusted his numbers, and left with a clearer conscience.
She knew exactly when Fleet Southcott, the town’s longtime sheriff, made his rounds and how often he lingered in the Rustic Pine, sipping coffee and swapping stories with Pastor Pete and Annie.
She also knew that lately, he’d been forgetting small things—where he left his keys, the name of a longtime resident, a detail from an old case.
So, when he paused too long in a conversation or struggled to recall a routine procedure, Reva was quick to step in with a steady hand, a quiet reminder, or a well-placed joke to keep things moving.
She never embarrassed him, never called attention to the moments that might sting.
Instead, she covered for him when she could, and when she couldn’t, she made sure the right people were watching out for him, just like he’d done for the town all these years.
And then there was Larry York, who often got carried away with his conspiracy theories after too many hours online. Rather than dismiss him, Reva listened—really listened—then skillfully redirected him to a community project, making him feel heard while keeping him grounded.
She didn’t demand respect. She earned it, one quiet act of grace at a time. And in return—not that she needed any—her own heart was brimming with contentment.
A soft knock on her office door made her jump.
Verna Billingsley, her ever-efficient and always tightly wound assistant, poked her head in.
“Your ten o’clock with Mark Dawson to go over the budget for emergency services got moved to eleven, and Fleet just called—something about misplacing an incident file.
” She sniffed. “He says it’s no big deal, but it is a big deal. We don’t want city records misplaced.”
Reva closed her eyes for a brief second, not wanting to deal with Fleet and his forgetfulness this early in the morning. Instead, she forced a smile. “Anything else?”
“Yes, the girls are waiting for you at the Rustic Pine.”
Reva blinked. “Why?”
Verna sighed as though she had better things to do than remind Reva of her own plans. “Because it’s Wednesday, and it’s what you do. Meet your girlfriends. Drink too much coffee. Solve the world’s problems.”
Apparently, Fleet wasn’t the only one with memory issues this morning. If only she’d had a bit more sleep.
Reva let out a breath and nodded. Right.
Wednesday. Their weekly morning coffee at the Rustic Pine, a long-held tradition—that and regular cocktail evenings.
Lately, life had been pulling them all in different directions—Charlie Grace with her expanding guest ranch, Capri caught up in returning to work after a protracted recovery and rehab from her accident on the mountain last spring, and Lila balancing the veterinary clinic with a daughter who had found herself facing an unplanned pregnancy.
Reva grabbed her purse and shut down her computer. She turned for the door when her phone buzzed with a text from Charlie Grace. “ We’re here. Don’t make us come get you .”
Reva let out a quiet chuckle, tossed her phone in her purse, and with squared shoulders followed Verna out of her office.
Some things in life could wait but Wednesday coffee with the same friends who had been by her side since high school wasn’t one of them. Besides, if she stalled too long, Charlie Grace would probably send a search party—or worse, Capri.
The last thing she needed was Capri storming into Town Hall—because Capri didn’t do subtle. Even when she was newly off crutches.