Sorene stumbled into the kitchen, a wide yawn cracking her jaw.

No more weeknights out.

She shouldn’t have let Cat talk her into going to the Pump House last night. If she hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been a scene between her, Ash, and Leia. Not to mention, she’d kind of encouraged Bart, when she’d done a good job of keeping him at arm’s length all these years.

She came to a stop at seeing coffee already made, and glanced around.

No one beat her out of bed.

Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, she poured herself a cup, and reached for the handle to the fridge for the cream. There, anchored with a magnet, was a note from Jack:

Well, so much for prying information out of him about Quinn.

She thought about waking Zoe so that she wouldn’t be late for work. Lord knew it took her hours to get ready for the day, with all the hairstyling and face painting.

No. Zoe was nineteen. She needed to be responsible and that wouldn’t happen if Sorene continued to micromanage her. She’d come to that realization last night as she lay awake in bed staring at the tongue-and groove-ceiling.

Exhausted to the bone, and yet sleep had evaded her. The sheet was too sensitive as it brushed against her skin and she ached deep down in places she didn’t want to acknowledge needed attention. After hours of lying there, she’d tossed back the covers, grabbed her sketch pad, and doodled designs for the lake house.

She doubted Ash would make his demanded appointment, based on his condition last night. He’d be too hungover to work today, which would give her a much-needed break.

She filled a thermos with coffee, slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, and grabbed a banana for breakfast. Knowing she’d have the day without seeing Ash hanging over her head, had her excited to get to work.

A day wielding the chainsaw would do wonders for her frustration.

While she waited for her Jeep to warm up, she decided to catch Jack at the office, before heading to the lake house, and see what he knew about Quinn’s condition.

Ten minutes later, she parked the Jeep in front of the business building for Wilde Log Homes: a two-story, chink-style log home with a large front porch, showcasing the artistry of the business Jack had started thirty-five years ago.

Bells over the door announced her entrance when she walked in. She wasn’t surprised to find Colette at her desk, set up in the great room opposite the large stone fireplace. Couches invited home buyers to relax and take in the vaulted room with the diamond willow railed staircase while they went over their own house plans.

Colette did an amazing job balancing the business and keeping it homey and full of heart.

Today she wore high-waisted jeans and a button-down red, man’s style dress shirt, accessorized with a large chunky necklace and earrings right out of the eighties. Her platinum-streaked, honey-blond hair was teased and restrained with a Madonna lace scarf. Colette had been a staple at Wilde Log Homes since Sorene had crawled around on the wood floors as a toddler, though she didn’t look a day over forty.

“Good morning, Sorene,” she greeted in her harmonious voice. “Boy, did I miss you yesterday.”

“Zoe giving you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, though that sister of yours is a challenge.”

“She’s always been one for me.”

“You, my dear, are a saint.”

Not with the thoughts running through her head lately.

Sorene glanced around the open room. The double doors to her dad’s office stood open with the light off. “Is Dad here?”

“He called and said he’d be in the field today. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, I just needed to talk to him. I’ll try his cell phone.”

“Well, if he’s in the field, cell phone coverage is spotty. Want me to leave him a message in case he checks in?”

“That would be great, thanks.” She turned to leave and then added, “And no one is bleeding.” She didn’t want to worry Jack unnecessarily.

Colette chucked. “The day is young, yet. With your family, someone is always needing patched up.”

Truth. She couldn’t count the many times she’d rushed a sibling to the ER for stitches. It hadn’t taken her long to learn how to super glue cuts together herself to save on the drive.

The door opened just as she reached for the knob to leave, and Dare’s beloved husky Eska, with her black and silver painted face, preceded him inside. Dare never went anywhere without at least one of his dogs.

“Hey, sis,” he greeted with a wide grin.

In lieu of returning his greeting, Sorene bent to rub Eska’s ears and relished her friendly muzzle nudge.

“Never fails,” Dare said, “If I have this girl is with me, no one pays me any attention.”

“That isn’t true.” Sorene straightened and reached out and hugged Dare. She hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. He’d been out training his dogs for the upcoming Yukon Quest, which he’d won the year before. His dark beard had grown thicker, and his chestnut hair brushed his shoulders. It always amazed her the differences between her identical twin brothers. They were mirror images when they wanted to be, but left on their own, Ryder kept himself more GQ, while Dare embraced his sourdough side. His clothes were ratty and old, the blue of his jean washed white in places and downright threadbare in others. The gray hoodie he wore once read “The Dogfather,” but now it had missing letters in places where they had rubbed off.

“I heard you’re on Ryder’s bad side,” Dare said,

“Told you, did he?”

“Not much we don’t share with each other. He returned home last night pretty riled.”

“How serious are he and Leia?” She couldn’t help asking. Dread swirled in her stomach.

“You know Ry, it won’t last. His women never do.”

She hoped more than anything that Dare was right about that. The thought of sharing holiday dinners with Leia, family gatherings, and heaven forbid, nieces and nephews had the banana she choked down for breakfast threatening to resurface.

“Are you going to stick around?” Sorene asked. She never knew where Dare was these days. Even when he was younger, she’d had panic moments when she couldn’t locate him, only to find him traipsing around the wilderness. He preferred being alone and sought out solitude in nature. She envied him and the peace he seemed to find.

“I’m here for a bit. I stopped in to see my girl, Colette.”

“Aw, shucks, Dare.” Colette beamed and shook her finger at him. “If you were younger…”

“Hey, I’m plenty old enough now,” Dare returned with a cheeky grin.

“You’ll never be old enough as I helped change your diapers a time of two.”

Dare grimaced at that. “You always dash my bubble.”

Colette laughed, the sound resembling cheerful chimes.

“I’ll leave the two of you to whatever you have going on today,” Sorene said. “I’m off to the lake house.”

“I heard Dad gave you the project. Smart move on his part, as it’s basically been yours since you handed over the drawings. I can’t wait to see how you dress her up.”

“Thanks, Dare.” She gave him another hug in gratitude. “You stay warm out there.”

“You do the same,” he returned.

“Will do.” She gifted Eska another rubdown and headed out.

The lake house greeted her with sleepy silence. Snow blanketed the copper roof. She’d fought hard for the metal, even though it hadn’t come cheap, knowing that when it rained the sound would be nature’s symphony. Any lake house worthy of her name needed elements like that. Plus, it downright gave the cabin a fantastical appearance.

Sorene gathered her tools and brought them over to the bear she’d been working on yesterday. It felt more like a week instead of twenty-four hours since she’d first fired up her chainsaw and revealed the beginnings of the bear hidden inside the log.

Releasing the bungee cords that she’d used to anchor the tarp over the bear, she pulled it off, spreading it out like a blanket on the ground, and used the tarp as a palette to lay her tools on so they wouldn’t be in the snow and easier to find. Since she’d lost one of her treasured chisels in the snow once, she’d been more careful where she placed her tools.

Donning her earmuffs and safety glasses, she yanked on the pull cord of the chainsaw, getting a thrill of the buzzing and vibrations of the powerful artist’s weapon. Within minutes, she was lost in her art.

No thoughts of Ash, worry over Zoe and Ryder, or anger toward Leia intruded. The work colored her world, and she gladly entered, wishing she never had to leave.

Exhaustion from handling the saw would eventually wear her down and she’d have to take a break, but not for a while. Once she had the majority of the log cut away, she’d switch to the shorter blade chainsaw and then the chisels and blow torch. The torch is where the piece really came alive.

Just as in life, adding flames always cleansed or produced results, and she couldn’t wait to see what happened.