I grab the key to the empty cabin from the hook inside my front door. I’m about to hand it over, when I remember the lock being stiff when I checked the place out when I first arrived. “Let me make sure you can get in.” I leap up the steps to the porch and put the key in the lock. It fits like a glove. “Yeah, it’s fine. It didn’t fit so great when I tried it the other day.”

I turn to find her at the top of the steps. “Thanks,” she says.

“Do you need anything?” I ask. I’m not by nature a hospitable person, but this woman is having a really bad day. Maybe it’s something about the air in this town, or maybe I’m overcompensating with kindness to lessen her fear of being axe-murdered.

“A new life?” she suggests. She gives me a half smile, and my breath catches in my throat. Her eyes kind of sparkle in the moonlight.

“New lives aren’t available until morning,” I say.

She gives me another small smile and for some reason it feels like the promise of something more. I shake it off. I don’t need to be reading meaning into a pretty stranger’s smile.

“This is great. Thank you,” she says.

“Heaters are electric. If you have any problems, need a cup of sugar, anything, I’m right next door.”

“Thank you, Byron.” She narrows her eyes.

I hold up the key, which is attached by a chain to an oak disk with Star Falls Cabins etched on it. “Welcome to Star Falls, Rosey,” I say, sounding like the head of tourism for this tiny town I’ve avoided for so long.

My insides twang at how warm and entirely genuine the smile she beams at me is. I love New York, but it’s full of fake smiles. My gut tells me there’s nothing fake about this woman.

I realize I’m staring at her, so I give her a two-fingered salute and head back to my cabin.

Inside, I busy myself, turn on the TV and grab a tub of leftover curry I have in the refrigerator. I can’t get Rosey’s smile out of my head. Nothing can stop the images of her flashing through my brain. Where did she come from? Who was she going to marry? Why did she run away? Her escape clearly wasn’t planned, since she had nothing with her but the clothes on her back. Her wedding clothes.

Shit, she’s got nothing to change into.

I slide the cold curry onto the counter and head into my bedroom, pulling out a couple of t-shirts and some joggers. They’ll be comically large on her, but at least she’ll have something other than her wedding dress to wear tomorrow.