“And we were still moving shit in here up until yesterday. Calla worked her butt off to get it ready in time. You should have everything you need.” Jonah stomps the snow off his boots and then lugs two large suitcases, one in each hand. He hauls each onto the stands I ordered—that took two months to arrive—grunting under the weight. “Jesus, what’d you bring with you?”

“It’s Christmas. I wasn’t going to arrive empty-handed,” Astrid says matter-of-factly.

“You remember that we have stores here, right?”

She reaches up to rest her palm against her son’s cheek. “But not Norwegian stores, vennen.”

I don’t know what she called him, but it seems to strike a chord because Jonah’s stern expression softens. He ropes his arms around his mother’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

She responds instantly, curling her arms around his waist. “I forgot how big you are. Karl and Ivar are tiny by comparison.”

Those names I recognize as Björn’s sons, whom Jonah cares for about as much as he does Björn, though I’ve never received a solid reason why his annoyance extends that far. Sometimes I wonder if his dislike for his stepbrothers is rooted in jealousy. Jonah grew up an only child; he’s not used to sharing his mom. Worse, Karl and Ivar and their families live within a ten-minute drive of Astrid and Björn. They eat dinner together once a week and spend their holidays together.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“That’s because you haven’t seen me in—how long has it been again? Three years?”

He grins sheepishly. “Four.”

“Ah. Four years since you’ve seen your own mother. I’m surprised you even found me at the airport.” Her tone is soft, playful, her eyes twinkling as she chides her only son.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder if her words are laced with a hint of bitterness. Astrid may have two stepsons and five step-grandchildren to keep her occupied, but Jonah is her only biological child. Since leaving Las Vegas for Alaska when he was twenty-one, he has only seen his mother three times—once, to witness her marry a man he doesn’t care for. Three times in eleven years, and apparently the two trips to Oslo were riddled with bickering and shouting matches. The last time, he finished off his stay in a hotel.

The four-year gap since his last visit isn’t entirely his fault, though. Jonah was supposed to fly to Norway for Christmas last year, but he canceled after learning of my father’s terminal illness. Then again, my dad passed in September. Plenty of time to rebook, but Jonah chose to stay close for Agnes and Mabel’s sake, even before he made the surprise trip to Toronto to lure me back to the wild.

Still, four years since he’s held his mother.

Does she resent him for that? She did move all the way to Oslo. But before that, Jonah moved to Alaska.

It’s been one year since I last saw my mother, and almost every time we speak she likes to remind me that I chose to move thousands of miles away.

“I brought a bunch of wood in for the fire and there’s more on the side, but the Toyostove will keep you guys warm through the night,” Jonah explains, heading for the woodstove. He lit it before he left for the airport, but only hot embers glow now, the log long since burned.

“It’s toasty in here.” Astrid rubs her hands together, contradicting her words. “I forgot how cold it gets in Alaska. It was raining when we left Oslo.”

“It’s been colder than usual.” And the news is forecasting a bitter front trailing in behind the coming storm. “I’ve stocked the fridge with everything I thought you might need, but if there’s anything else, just let us know. There are plenty of blankets and towels and pillows. Everything.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Calla. Don’t worry yourself.”

“And let me know what you think about the bed.” I plan on listing the cabin on the rental site in January for weekend renters looking for a winter escape. Astrid and Björn are our guinea pigs.

“For what she paid, that mattress better come with servants that tuck you in at night and sing you lullabies,” Jonah grumbles, earning my exasperated eye roll.

Astrid chuckles. “I don’t think we’ll need any lullabies tonight. I’m half-asleep already.”

The toilet flushes and after a brief rush of the tap water, Björn emerges from the bathroom. “It feels like a coffin in there. How long have we been banished out here? The whole two weeks?”

Astrid rhymes off something in Norwegian that sounds musical but coupled with her sharp glare is clearly an admonishment. She switches back to English to say, “It’s fine. It’s perfect for us. Ignore him. He’s old and grumpy and doesn’t like to leave home.”

Jonah stoops to tuck a log into the woodstove, muttering, “He should have stayed there, then.”

“So, not only do you make your mother fly halfway across the world if she wants to see you, but now you want her to do it alone?” Björn snipes back.

“If you’re going to complain for the next two weeks, then yeah. And she’s more than capable of traveling on her own. She doesn’t need you.”

Björn stabs the air with his index finger. “If you knew what—”

“Enough!” Astrid’s hands raise in the air, her brow pinched with strain. “Don’t start already. Please. It’s been a very long day.”

I loop my arms around Jonah’s biceps and gently guide him toward the door. “We’ll let you get settled.” Though, from the sounds of it, I’m not sure Björn will be comfortable here. That’s a bit of a pinprick to my bubble of enthusiasm over this cabin’s completion.

Astrid dips her head to me. “Calla, thank you so much for making all these efforts for our comfort. Everything is perfect. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Come over whenever you’re up. The door’ll be unlocked.” Jonah dangles the key to the pickup truck before hanging it on the wall hook. “It’s all gassed up. I’ll plug in the block heater on our way out. Don’t forget to unplug it.”

Astrid smiles. “Oh, I forgot about those days.”

I remember as we reach the door. “Oh! If you happen to see two big dogs that look like wolves running around, don’t panic. They’re harmless.”

Björn’s bushy gray eyebrows arch. “Are they wolves or are they dogs?”

“A bit of both, probably, but the official answer is malamute.” That’s Roy’s bullshit answer, to keep the gossip at bay and officers off his back.

Björn nods slowly. “I’ve always liked malamutes.”

“There’s actually something he does like,” Jonah mutters under his breath.

I herd him out with a hand on his back before he can spark another argument.

Chapter Three

“It is really small, but I didn’t have a lot to work with. Do you think renters will mind?”

“People aren’t gonna rent that place so they can hang out in the bathroom.” Jonah’s words are garbled thanks to the toothbrush in his mouth.

“You’re right.” I study the draft listing on the Airbnb site. I’ve been working on it for weeks. “Still … maybe I should mention it?” But what would I say? Warning: Coffin-sized bathroom? I sigh. “Do you really think they’ll be comfortable over there? Because they can stay here. I know your mom insisted, but it doesn’t sound as if Björn—”