Page 3 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

Chapter Two

On Thanksgiving night, Mariah Ellsworth ate chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Her mother, a gourmet before the word foodie was invented, had hated the holiday.

She’d said it was filled with overcooked meat, oversweetened everything, badly cooked vegetables, and sloppy potatoes.

She liked to skip it in protest, and whenever Mariah happened to be home, they’d spent it watching the rich historical dramas her mother loved.

She was making tea in her mother’s cavernous kitchen when her phone dinged with an email notification. It was on the table in the dining room, approximately fifty million steps away, so she’d just pick it up on her way through.

The house was freezing. It was always freezing, a fact she’d complained about before, and now was even worse. Her mother used to tell her to put on more clothes and stop complaining. For a snowboarder, you’re awfully sensitive to cold.

Her retort had always been that she had the right gear to stay warm on the slopes. A person shouldn’t have to wear insulated pants inside a house.

To counter the cold and the emptiness of the day, she’d built a fire in the sitting room. Now she hobbled through the hallway, leaning on her cane, tea in the other hand. All the lights downstairs still burned, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn them off.

Actually, the truth was, she never turned off most of the lights. Being alone in the house scared her. The noises; the dark rooms upstairs; her mother’s bedroom, barely touched since her death. A lamp burned beside the bed all the time, as if awaiting Rachel’s imminent return.

Now settled by the crackling fire, her bad leg facing the nourishing flames, she opened the email app. Her interest perked up when she saw that the subject line said LinkedIn .

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: LinkedIn Travel Companion

I saw your job opening on LinkedIn, and I would be very interested in the position.

I haven’t traveled extensively, but I am fluent in French, and I have degrees in history and women’s studies from CU, and I love research.

As for the physical requirements, while I’m not going to be running the Leadville 100 anytime soon (or ever), I keep up a regular walking and hiking habit.

Stairs are not a problem, and I’m well versed in the organizational challenges of packing.

I’m currently at a bit of a crossroads and would especially love to be out of the country at Christmas.

You can reach me at 303-555-7412 anytime.

Veronica

A little whip of excitement jolted her. She’d been sure she’d have to cancel the trip, that it would be impossible to find anyone on such short notice.

Originally, her aunt Jill had been planning to accompany Mariah, but three days ago, her husband had suffered a serious heart attack.

Understandably, Jill could not go. But understanding didn’t dampen Mariah’s devastation.

There was no way she could manage the trip herself.

Jill had been the one to suggest advertising on LinkedIn.

She texted immediately:

Hi, Veronica. Mariah here. I got your email. The trip starts soon, so I’d like to meet with you tomorrow, if you can. I don’t drive, so you’d have to come to me in Cherry Creek. Is that possible?

Yes! Name the time, and I’ll be there. I’m in Boulder, so I would rather set out after rush hour.

Mariah typed in the address, then: Awesome. I’ll see you around 11? You have a current passport?

Yep, already checked the expiration. See you then, thanks.

Mariah dropped the phone on the table, then picked it up and texted her aunt. I have a lead on a person to go with me. How do I make sure she’s right?

And then: How is uncle mike?

No response. Mariah sipped her mint tea, remembering when she and her mother had visited Morocco the first time. They’d drunk from small, beautiful glasses, in a riad that was covered ceiling to floor with blue tiles.

Mint tea in Marrakech, she thought. Maybe that would be a good title for the book.

Or not. Jill still hadn’t responded, so she would have to ask herself how she could feel comfortable with a stranger for more than a month of travel.

Was that even possible? As Jill had pointed out, she’d traveled plenty with people she didn’t know, sharing dorm space and rooms with other snowboarders at competitions and training camps since her earliest days.

But that was different. They were all similar ages, with a built-in language for life—snow, boards, times, training, diet. Sometimes girls or boys they liked, but who really had time for that? There was only the sport.

She rubbed her thigh, adrift for a moment in her longing for the taste of dry snow and sharp cold and fierce competition. Would she ever get that back?

This Veronica person didn’t sound anything like an athlete. What would she have in common with a history geek? Mariah imagined a skinny woman with big glasses and bad jeans, but that was a caricature of her mother, and not fair.

All she really had to be was not completely annoying, reasonably fit, and able to really help with the research bits Mariah didn’t know. If they got along too badly, she could just send her home.

A little pressure flowed out of her at that.

Her phone dinged. Jill. Trust your gut, kiddo. You have good instincts. What do you know about her?

Not a lot. Maybe a student? She lives in Boulder.

Get references, obviously.

Right. Like what counts as reliable?

People with verifiable contact info that you can look up and then call independently of her references

K

I’m so so so so sorry I can’t go after everything.

A well of emotion threatened to spill out. Blinking hard, Mariah typed, Don’t be. I get it 100%. How’s he doing today?

A little setback, but I think they’ll let him out in a few days. Just worry about your happiness. He’s gonna be fine.

Good. Take care of yourself, too, k? I need my auntie.

After she ended the conversation, she paused and texted the applicant .

Pls bring character references.