The more I stare at it, the more I disagree. “It doesn’t do it justice. At all. None of them do.”

She tips her head as she ponders it. “Maybe it has a story to it that I can’t see?”

“Maybe.” On the screen, it is a pretty enough view, I’ll admit. Not the barren wasteland my mother insisted was waiting for me. But it’s just another picture from a plane, high up in the sky. You wouldn’t know why we went—that it’s where the little girl with asthma who needed the ventilator lives with her family and two hundred other villagers, on what feels like the very edge of the earth when you’re landing.

You wouldn’t know that Jonah pounded on my door and practically forced me out that day. Jonah, the broody bush pilot who started off as my enemy and has somehow evolved into something far more important to me than a friend.

Agnes settles down onto the edge of the wicker love seat where there’s room. I sense that she wants to talk, as her gaze roams the porch, stalling on the lights dangling above. “Christmas in summer.”

“Welcome to my life. My mom has lights up in our backyard all year round.” Tiny, white lights that weave around the lilac bushes and Japanese maples and the trunk of the massive century-old oak tree that Simon has had to pay arborists tens of thousands to maintain over the years. This is kitschy by comparison, but it’s still cozy.

“All this old stuff you dragged out . . .” She looks around us at the transformation. “I’ll bet it’s nice out here at night.”

“It is, actually. We were out here last night after the sunset.”

“You and Jonah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

I ignore her curious murmur and keep scrolling. The pictures of Jonah cutting firewood appear and my finger stalls, my eyes caught momentarily on his hard flesh and his statuesque form, his olive-skinned complexion all the more so next to the misty fog.

“Now there’s a fashionable look for your website.” Agnes -chuckles.

I keep flipping, pretending that my cheeks aren’t red. I’ll admire the rest of those later, in private.

“Marie was by the house on Saturday night, looking for Jonah. Forgot to mention that to him,” she says casually.

“Big surprise.” My tone is more clipped than I intend, a reaction to the way my stomach tightens instantly, despite what Jonah told me about their platonic relationship. Marie’s not going anywhere. She’s in Alaska for the long haul. Will he change his mind down the road and decide he can give her what she wants?

The very idea of Jonah with her—or anyone else—makes my chest burn. “Did you tell her we were stuck at the checkpoint for the night?”

“I did.”

Good. I can’t help the jealous little voice inside my head.

I feel Agnes’s watchful gaze on me as I scroll through the rest of the cabin trip pictures, and I’m pretty sure the shrewd little woman somehow heard that. But, as always, she keeps those thoughts—and all thoughts about Jonah and me and whatever is going on between us—to herself.

“Listen, I was hoping you could help me and Mabel. Sharon and Max are leaving next week and we’ve been talking about throwing a little party for them at Wild.”

“A party?”

“Yeah. Sort of a combo baby shower and farewell.”

I hesitate. “I just . . . Do you think it’s right to throw a party now?” I drop my voice. “With everything that’s going on?” I mean, my dad’s got a meeting with the guys from Aro later this week, to start the sale process. And he just got out of the hospital. It’s going to take time for him to recover from that complication.

Plus, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s in shock over his news.

“If not now, then when?” Her black gaze drifts out to the wide expanse, to a regional airline descending from the sky. “They’ll be long gone by the time Wren . . .” Her voice fades. She swallows. “Life will keep moving and changing, whether we want it to or not, Calla. There will be days to mourn, when it’s time. But Sharon and Max are leaving us, and their baby will be born, and we need to celebrate the time we have with them while we have them here. That’s all we can do with anyone.” Her face slowly splits into a wide smile, even as her eyes shimmer. “Besides, it’ll make Wren happy, to see everyone come together like that. He’s always liked a good party.”

I sigh. She’s right. “Of course I’ll help.”

“Good. I ordered a bunch of cake mixes and some decorations and things a while back. They should be here any day now.”

“I guess there’s no such thing as Amazon Prime around here?” I say, wryly.

She gives me a look. “That is Amazon Prime.”

We share a soft laugh.

But then her brow pulls tight. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for coming.” She reaches forward to clasp my forearm. “It feels right, having you here with us. I can’t imagine doing it any other way.”

My throat begins to prickle for the tiny woman, whose own heart has, however unintentionally, also been broken by my father in the past. And still she stands stoically beside him, offering her friendship and unrequited love.

How many hearts have been pained or broken because my dad decided to sit down next to my mom at the bar that night? I wonder. Would knowing what the future held have made either of them stand and walk out?