Meg raises on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before a glance at the clock behind the register has her rushing next door for the start of her shift. The store is quiet, and for a full minute, it stays that way.

“Do you need to take a break?” Duke asks mildly.

“I’m good,” I bite back.

“I can cover if you need to go for a little jog.”

“Thanks, I’m fine.”

“Did Meg get a new cartilage cuff?” he asks, gesturing to the tip of his ear. “Right here? I swear I haven’t seen that one before.”

“Fuck you.”

Duke barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Does she know about your earring fetish?”

“It’s not a fetish.”

“It’s something.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a tour?”

“Canceled due to the snow.”

I look outside to the dry street. “What snow?”

Duke pulls an outlandish orange down coat off the hanger and slips it over his shoulders. “The cold front that’s supposed to start this afternoon. Don’t you watch the weather?”

“I haven’t gotten an alert yet.” I pull out my phone and glance at the screen. I have weather alerts set up as notifications. Part of the deal post-graduation from search-and-rescue training is being on call at all times and part of that deal is always knowing what the weather is doing.

“Wait. You’re right. There’s a weather watch. I put my phone on silent.” Last night. My mom and Brian asked me to babysit for them, and Meg and I were texting all night.

I also have a call from an unknown number and a voice mail. Leaving Duke in charge of the counter, I head to the back before pressing Play. I listen three times through before I can comprehend it, and each time, I feel a little differently about it, cycling through fury, annoyance, and a little bit of curiosity. I walk to the front, and Duke is still arranging coats. Business has been slow all afternoon, likely due to the coming snow. Fat flurries are beginning to fall on the street.

“Anything wrong?” Duke’s stopped with his fussing and is watching me with a speculative stare.

I slump onto a stool behind the checkout counter. “I don’t know. The weirdest thing happened. I got a phone call for an interview from a guy who writes for a progressive Christian magazine.”

“Progressive how?”

“Progressive like they seem to genuinely want to interview me about the aftermath of my dad’s downfall, about how our church abandoned us and left us to rot. They aren’t afraid to represent all sides of a story. They’re definitely talking about church corruption here but also want to give us a chance to talk about our experience.”

Duke whistles low. “That’s good, right?”

I scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t know.”