Chapter Five

On Tuesday, Sage packed up her car with what little she had. Bea would be buried tomorrow, and she intended to be in Aspen Cove in time to say goodbye.

All her worldly possessions fit into the back of her silver SUV. As she shut the hatch, she reflected on how sad it was that her life could be contained in a couple of duffel bags and a few boxes.

Lydia stood in the doorway, sipping coffee, while Otis sat at her feet with a have-you-lost-your-mind expression. The truth was, Sage wasn’t positive she hadn’t lost her marbles. She lost everything else. Her job. Her focus. Why not her mind?

“Come on, Otis,” Sage said. “It’s time for an adventure.” The dog teetered back and forth on his hind leg and looked up at Lydia with pleading puppy-dog eyes.

She lifted her chin toward the car as if to say, Go on.

Otis lumbered down the front steps and over to the SUV where Sage helped him climb into the passenger seat. He curled up, and Sage tucked his stuffed bunny into the curve of his body. Otis might be her comfort, but that bunny with its soft fur and floppy ears was his. He’d had it since she’d adopted him from the shelter.

A quick goodbye hug with Lydia turned into one that she never wanted to end. Sage reluctantly pushed away. It wasn’t like she was leaving forever, just a few days at most. Something about that thought comforted and depressed her equally. Her status quo was anything but exciting. She had few friends, and no lovers. It was a sad day to admit that her best buddy was a three-legged golden retriever in love with a stuffed rabbit named Phineas.

“Call me as soon as you get there.” Lydia gave her a final squeeze. “It will be different. Don’t decide if you love it or hate it on the first day.”

“Right,” Sage said with little conviction. “Bea loved it. How bad could it be?”

Lydia raised her coffee cup. “You need to look at things from a glass-half-full perspective.”

Sage snatched the cup and drank the remaining coffee. “Fine, but your glass is now empty.” She pressed the “I’m a physician not a magician” mug back into her sister’s hand and gave her a weak smile before she walked down the steps, climbed inside her SUV, and backed out of the driveway.

Too bad Lydia wasn’t a magician. She could use a little magic in her life right now.

As the flats of Denver grew distant in her rearview mirror, Sage focused on the landscape in front of her. A stray pine tree or two turned into a forest. Small rocky outcroppings turned into mountains. She wound through the pass and broke through the thick cloud cover that had blanketed the city and her life for days. She caught her first glimpse of the sun. Did its appearance after days of gray mean something? Was the darkness behind her? Were brighter days ahead? Sage hoped so and drove toward the light.

Almost three hours later, she arrived at her destination. Tucked between Longs Peak and Mount Meeker was the tiny town of Aspen Cove. She pulled onto Main Street and took a deep breath, hoping the air filled her lungs enough to keep her sinking heart in place.

The metropolis of Aspen Cove wasn’t even the length of a full city block. Trade the few visible cars for horses, and it would be perfect for the set of an old spaghetti western.

Sage pulled her car into an empty slot at the end of the street, intent on exploring. She wanted to give Bea’s town a chance before she offered her personal diagnosis. With the way some of the windows were whitewashed and others boarded up, she feared the town had flatlined years ago. The deserted block confirmed that Aspen Cove had less life pumping through its veins than the patients in the geriatric ward.

Seeing as Otis was sound asleep, she rolled down the window and set out to explore the town Bea had once called home. The air was crisp and clear, and the scent of pine hung like perfume around her.

There was no one in sight. She crossed the street to stand in front of the Corner Store, aptly named for its location. It was the kind of place she’d stop to get a soda but never produce. Next in line, a tailor, a hairdresser, and a dry goods store sat clustered together, but sadly alone in their abandonment. Just past the dry goods store was Maisey’s Diner. It still had life, but not today because it was after two o’clock on a Tuesday, which was closing time for the diner whose door sign said it opened two days a week.

Across the street sat a building with the word Sheriff etched into the frosted glass window. The only thing missing was a man in a cowboy hat with a star pinned to his chest.

She’d made it halfway through the town’s meager offerings. There was no way she’d be able to stay. Aspen Cove had no Starbucks. No Safeway. No Target. No Sephora. There wasn’t a McDonald’s, a Taco Bell, or a Dunkin’ Donuts. Nothing here offered the comforts of the life she had in Denver.

There was a small pharmacy, not the kind where she could get a prescription refilled, but the kind she imagined was stocked with expired cough syrup and last month’s Penthouse Forum. In the window, “The Doctor Is In” blinked in bright neon red. Sage moved quickly past.

Beside the tiny pharmacy sat a storefront with crystal clear windows and a big wooden sign that read “Bishop’s Brewhouse.” Despite the town’s rundown look, this place appeared taken care of from its neatly lined up liquor bottles to the jukebox glowing in the corner. How could a small town support a bar but not a full-time diner?

She hurried past the closed Bishop Bait and Tackle store and ended her tour of Aspen Cove standing in front of a bakery called B’s. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Sage pressed her nose against the glass. Black and white checkered floor tiles supported white café tables. Pinstriped wallpaper was the backdrop for the cross-stitched pictures that hung on the wall. A glass display case stood empty next to an old-fashioned black cash register. On the other side of the bakery, a woman slumped over a café table. Her hands cradled her face, and her shoulders shook.

Could she be a relative of Bea? A recipient of the pink stationery Sage had replenished for Bea with regularity?

She rapped against the cool glass several times before the young blonde lifted her head.

“The bakery is closed.” Although muffled by the door, her voice nearly broke with each word, and Sage could practically feel her grief.

“Can you let me in for a moment? I just want to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to offer you.” The woman looked behind her at the empty display case. “Can’t you see there’s nothing here?”

“You’re here, and I’m not asking for anything except that you open the door. I’d like to talk to you about Bea.”

At the mention of Bea’s name, the woman’s features softened. She rose from her chair and walked to the door. The lock turned, and the door opened.

Sage wasted no time in pulling the woman in for a hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” With each death she’d experienced, those words had comforted others.

The woman cried while Sage lent her shoulder for tears and a hug for support. When the racking sobs transitioned to a warbling whimper, she led the woman back to the table, where they each took a seat.

“I’m Sage Nichols.” She reached across the table and offered a touch of comfort.

The young woman, whose eyes were a deep ocean blue, took a breath and shook Sage’s hand. “I’m Katie Middleton.” A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Not that Katie Middleton.”

Sage giggled. “No? And I was excited that I’d finally met a royal.”

Katie let go of Sage, pulled the sleeve of her sweater over her hand, and brushed the tears from her eyes. “Well, I’m a royal pain in the butt.” Her voice drawled with a twang. “If I were that Katie, I’d be knee-deep in crown jewels and philanthropy. Not to mention her rather dreamy husband. Dreamy if you like designer suits and polo ponies.” She bobbed her pageant-worthy hair. Sage thought Katie a southern girl, but couldn’t quite place the accent. Texas? Louisiana? She looked past the voice to the woman.

“Some girls have all the luck.”

“I’ve got luck, but it’s mostly bad.” Katie ran her fingers through blonde hair streaked with a caramel-strawberry that could only come from nature. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you, and here I am blubberin’ like an idiot and talking about Prince Charming. You must think I’m crazy.” She sat back in the chair. “I’d offer you some sweet tea or somethin’ else if I had it, but I was being honest when I said I had nothing to offer.”

Sage didn’t want Katie to start a flood of tears again, but she did want to offer her condolences. “I don’t need anything. I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Katie waved away her comment. “Just having a moment. I’m okay, really.”

“It’s such an enormous loss.”

Katie sat up taller—taller than Sage could ever sit, being just five-foot-two. “Did you know her?”

“Yes. I got to know her pretty well.” Did she tell Katie that Bea was sweeter than the coffee she drank? That she watched game shows for hours and ate cheese puffs by the bagful? That she smelled like maple syrup and cinnamon? Sage was pretty sure Katie would know those things. Instead, she told of their association. “I was one of her nurses.”

“Oh.” Sadness clouded Katie’s voice. “Did she suffer?”

Suffering was such a broad term. There were many ways a person could suffer, but not once did Bea succumb to pain, anguish, or fear. “No,” Sage said. “She was one tough lady.” She was the light of every shift Sage pulled. “Bea spent hours talking about Aspen Cove.” Sage looked out the window at the ghost of a town. Never once did Bea mention the whitewashed windows or closed-down shops. This town had died long before Bea. “She shared a lot. And yet, I’m not sure she told me much of anything. All I know is this town and its people were her life.”

Katie sighed as if Sage had finished reciting a love story. “I’m glad she had a good life.”

“What about you? How does Bea fit into yours?”

Katie’s expression turned flat. “I have no idea. I never met her.”