They reached Main Street, and she looked left, then right. Had the storefronts always been so grimy? When had the old video-rental store been boarded up? The store had been out of business for years, but now the windows were all broken. Nothing seemed as cheery as she remembered.

She linked arms with Jeremy, suddenly needing something solid to hold on to. “What do you want to see first?”

He gestured west, away from the mountain. They walked slowly.

“These buildings are old.” Jeremy pointed with his chin. “When was this town founded?”

“I’m not sure . . . 1897, I think? But they look older than they are. Things wear down fast out here.”

Including people. She thought of Grandpa Rand and the toll the ranch had taken on him. When she’d seen him last night, she was surprised at how old he looked for only seventy-one years. Old and tired. And his eyes had seemed sunken and troubled. She wished she could talk to her mom about how it bothered her.

She wished she could talk to her mom about a lot of things.

“Ms. Beatrice Jensen, is that you?”

Bea tightened her hold on Jeremy’s arm. She knew that voice. Spinning to face its source, she pasted on a smile. “Hey, Mr. Jamison. Why aren’t you in class?”

He wore his signature gray newsboy cap and matching tweed jacket. The same cap and jacket he’d been wearing to teach history at Moose Creek High for decades.

“I figured I had made sufficient contributions to society, and I retired.”

“Oh.” Bea’s eyebrows rose. It had seemed like he would be at the high school forever.

She glanced over at Jeremy and waved a hand in his direction. “Mr. Jamison, this is my husband, Jeremy.”

The old man reluctantly grabbed Jeremy’s hand but kept his eyes on Bea. “I heard a rumor you got married, but I didn’t want to believe it. I thought surely you were too smart to drop out of school for some boy. No offense, Mr. . . . ?”

Jeremy gave him an enigmatic look. “Michaels. And none taken.”

Bea felt her smile waver. Mr. Jamison had never been one to mince words. She stumbled over a response. “Well, I, uh, that’s not . . .”

“And now you’re back.” Mr. Jamison crossed his arms. “Temporarily, I hope?”

She knew he wasn’t saying that because he couldn’t wait to be rid of her again. It was just that he always encouraged his students to dream big. Shoot for the stars. Go away to college and make a name for themselves. Plus, he’d taken a special interest in her back then. All the teachers had felt sorry for her when her mom got sick.

“Yes. Temporarily.” The word sounded unconvincing in her own ears. She gave Jeremy a sidelong glance. “Mr. Jamison was one of my teachers.”

Jeremy nodded. “And what are you up to now that you’re retired?”