“It’s not like I don’t have things I love to do. Like garden. And yes, I love working at the pizza place. But . . . I guess I always thought I should do something big, like my parents. And try as I might, I can’t hear God telling me what to do. Where to go. So here I sit, waiting, while people get married, build families and careers around me, and I get offered the job as pizza manager.”
“I never considered that God might have an opinion about where I live. What I do. I mean, I believe in God—enough Sunday school and it’s embedded in me. And I remember as a child wanting Jesus to ‘live in my heart.’” Ivy finger-quoted the words. “But as I got older, I kept looking for Him to show up in my life, even a little bit. I guess it’s easier to think that He’s not interested.”
Ivy didn’t look at Claire, instead watching a light on the water—some distant ship—carving out the horizon. “The spiritual detritus of growing up in the foster system. You never really feel like people are going to stick around. Or that you belong to anyone.”
“You can belong to God, if you want,” Claire said softly. “God may be silent, but He’s never absent.”
Ivy turned to Claire. “I’ve made it this far on my own. I guess I’ll keep it that way.”
“You’re never on your own, Ivy.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s grown up with family.” But she said it kindly, with a smile.
“I suppose,” Claire said. “Speaking of, how did it go with Darek the other night? He comes attached with a passel of family.”
Ivy stared at her. “How did you know?”
“I was there. With the band. I saw you buy him.”
Of course she was. The entire town seemed to be there. “It was so awful. Everyone was so . . . quiet. Why didn’t anyone bid on him?”
“Because . . . well, because he is still married in their minds.”
“He’s not really—”
“No. He’s a widower. Three years now. But he was married to this beautiful, strong woman. She was loved by everyone in town. When she died . . . a little bit of everyone else died too. Especially since she left behind Theo.”
“Theo?”
“Tiger. Sorry.” She checked her phone again. Sighed and put it beside her on the porch. “People probably just can’t forgive Darek for moving on.”
“Has he?”
She glanced at Ivy. “I don’t know; you tell me.”
“He invited me over for a campfire tomorrow night.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Really?”
Claire laughed. “The Christiansens are a force, for sure, but I think they’ll like you.”
There it was again, the feeling of being auditioned.
“How many are there?”
“Six siblings. There’s Darek, of course—he’s the oldest. The protector of the family. He used to fight fires with this hotshot team in Montana. Now I think he’ll probably end up taking over the resort. And then there’s Eden. She’s a journalist, or wants to be, although I think she’s writing obits for a Minneapolis newspaper. And then Grace, who works with me at Pierre’s. She’s an amazing chef and is saving up money to attend Le Cordon Bleu. The troublemaker of the bunch is Casper, who is attending college in Duluth. I think he wants to be an archeologist–slash–treasure hunter–slash–adventurer. I suppose they all do, in a way. And after him is Owen, who plays hockey—”
“For the Minnesota Wild. I heard about him that night at the auction.”
“Right. He was supposed to be the feature attraction.”
“Poor Darek.”
“Exactly. Owen is a bit of a legend in our town. Never went to college—he got drafted straight out of high school. He’s only twenty and playing in the big leagues. The youngest is Amelia. She just graduated from high school this year and is making a name for herself as a photographer. She did a number of the senior pictures, and occasionally her photos make the front page of the paper.”
“I think I saw Amelia and Grace at the hospital a couple weeks ago. They showed up, along with Casper. Lots of drama.”
Claire winced. “I should have been there.”
Ivy frowned. Why—?
“Darek’s wife was my best friend. It tears me up to see Theo without her. I know in my heart that he’s in good hands. Ingrid and John are wonderful grandparents, and they own Evergreen Resort, up on the lake. They go to church; John works as a volunteer EMT. Ingrid helps out at the senior center sometimes. They’re fourth-generation Deep Haven.”
Ivy swallowed, tried a smile. But oh, was she in over her head. These kind of family roots . . .