“Roy’s. We ran out of eggs and Simon’s cooking breakfast.”

“And you are more than welcome to join us,” Simon offers cordially.

Muriel waves him off. “That’s kind of you, but I ate hours ago. I can’t stay. I just wanted to bring this moose roast over.” She holds up the bulky, butcher-paper-wrapped package from under her arm. “Figured you folks probably don’t get moose too often and you might enjoy it one night for dinner.”

Jonah’s all smiles as he retrieves it from her. “You know I will. Thanks.”

Muriel dips her head. “That’s what neighbors do, isn’t it? We take care of each other.”

Astrid smiles warmly, watching the exchange. “Did you get that during this year’s hunt, Muriel?”

“Me? No. I don’t go moose hunting much anymore. Not since …” Her voice trails with her stern frown, and I know she’s thinking about her missing son. “No, this is from my cousin Eddie. He must have put his name in that lottery ten … fifteen years ago. I told him he’d never get the call but a couple weeks ago, he got the call and made a liar out of me. A fourteen-hundred-pound bull!” She shakes her head. “How that driver walked away from that wreck, I’ll never know.”

My mother frowns at the package in Jonah’s hand. “What do you mean? Is that—”

“Roadkill. We don’t waste good meat in Alaska. It all tastes the same. Don’t matter if it’s a bullet or a grill that took it down, does it?” If Muriel notices the disgust flitter across my mother’s face, she ignores it, turning her attention to me. “I heard you want Teddy to perform your wedding ceremony. Now, he’s more than happy to do it, no problem there, but if you want it done a hundred percent legal, you need to get down to the courthouse to apply for the marriage license today, because they make you wait three business days before they’ll issue it.”

I’m momentarily stunned. I didn’t expect to be blindsided like this. “I didn’t—”

“And with Christmas, everything’s going to be all messed up. ’Course, you can go through the motions while everyone’s here and then he’ll sign the license after the fact, if you can’t get it before they all have to fly home.”

I’m going to kill Toby.

“Calla? What on earth is she talking about?”

I face my wide-eyed mother who looks like she blinked and suddenly found herself in a stranger’s house. On another planet. “There was a suggestion made that we get married while you’re all here, to make it easier on everyone.”

“But you’re not considering it, are you?” Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Hell, I wish.” Jonah barks with laughter.

“Jonah!” Astrid admonishes softly, but her lips curl with a smile as if she’s struggling to hide her amusement.

“But you can’t get married before we leave. That’s … that’s … absurd. I mean, where will I find flowers for your bouquet? And a dress! In a week? Good luck! And what about the venue?”

“Already checked and the community center is available,” Muriel chirps, thinking she’s being helpful. “You could reuse all the decorations from Saturday night, too. I’ll tell Jamie to leave it up.”

“The community center!” My mother’s laugh is bordering on hysterical now. “Okay. Let’s say for a moment that we go with that. Who’s going to do the catering?”

“I’m sure I could get another roast or two out of Eddie,” Muriel counters, serious.

“So, my daughter will be serving roadkill to her wedding guests.”

“She’s just trying to help,” I snap, not appreciating the caustic tone my mother is taking with Muriel. “And this is my wedding, Mom! Not yours!”

But she’s barely listening, too wrapped up in her own head. “What does it matter. You won’t have any guests. Who could attend? This is crazy!” She looks first to Simon, then to Astrid. “Right? Our only children, eloping in some sort of backwoods Hee Haw celebration?”

Astrid shrugs. “I’ve always preferred a simple, low-key affair. And it’s far more practical financially. Right, Björn?”

“Huh?” He peels his attention from his book to peer at his wife. “I’ll have mine fried. I think they call it sunny-side up?”

“Way to stay on brand.” Jonah shakes his head at his stepfather. “She’s not a waitress asking for your fucking egg order.”

Björn scowls first at Jonah, then at his wife. “Some mouth on that son of yours, Astrid. If Karl or Ivar spoke to me like that …” His words drift, as if he need not say more.

“You’d what, Björn?” Jonah questions, a taunting gleam in his cold blue eyes. “What would you do, huh? Something that required you to get off your lazy ass?”

Björn utters something in Norwegian. He tosses his novel onto the side table, narrowly missing the full cup of coffee just delivered, and stands with surprising speed to face Jonah. “I was the reigning arm wrestling champion for six years, you pompous little shit!” He yanks up his shirt sleeves to show off substantial forearms.

“I like taking care of my husband, Jonah! Now, both of you. Stop this!” Astrid explodes, throwing her arms in the air as if to say “enough.” Her hand inadvertently catches the corner of her coffee mug. It topples over and hits the floor, the coffee splashing, the ceramic shattering.

While that commotion is happening, my mother has cast her reading glasses onto the pile of magazines. “Simon, would you talk some sense into our daughter? You’re the only one she seems to listen to.”

She pulled out the “our daughter” card.

Simon’s brow furrows, and I know he’s choosing his words wisely before he dares utter them, because there is no rationalizing with my mother when she’s this emotional.

Muriel tracks back to join me in the hall, watching the flurry of anger unfold. “Bit of a can of worms I might have opened there, huh?”

“You think?” I grab my mittens and keys, and head out the door.

Chapter Seven

This time when I roll up to Roy’s cabin, he emerges from the barn, shutting the door tightly behind him.

I take my time, pausing to scratch Oscar behind the ear and give Gus a pat. Really, I just need another moment to gather the courage I wasn’t able to find on the ride here, too busy battling this rising dread that I’ve finally pushed Roy too far.

“What do you want?” he calls out in his typical gruff style, his arms folded across his chest. He’s in his usual outfit—a faded, forest-green, quilted plaid jacket and worn jeans, dusted in wood shavings. I’m not sure they’ve ever been washed. There’s no washer or dryer anywhere on this property, and of the hand-washed things I’ve seen on the drying rack or clothesline, they’ve never been included.

There’s no point in attempting small talk, not that Roy’s ever been for it. “Jonah’s mom used all my eggs and didn’t tell me, and Simon’s in the middle of making breakfast. I was hoping I could grab a half dozen from you.” I brace myself for him to bark that he’s not a damn grocery store, to get the hell off his property, and out of his life once and for all.