The cabin felt small and safe, tucked into winter like a puppy curled up on a blanket. Not scary or lonely, just quiet. She brought the quilt up to her chin and closed her eyes. Having three days to herself might not be such a bad thing after all. She went back to sleep.

Later in the morning, she showered and made coffee. Standing at the kitchen window, she considered spending the day doing something other than reading and walking (like getting back to Ran, whose last text she hadn’t answered yet, or writing a couple of emails to Shayna and Jen, or even throwing on the wheel). She was smiling at this last possibility, when a rumble broke the silence.

A car pulled into Wren’s driveway. It was Caleb’s.

Maggie clumsily set down her mug, then jerked away from the window. Her hands flew to her throat. Against her warm fingertips, her pulse galloped.

What was he doing here? What did he want?

When she realized what she was thinking, she exhaled a laugh, a tremulous sound pitched high with hysteria. Christ, Maggie, calm down. It’s just Caleb.

She lowered her shoulders and smoothed back her hair with trembling hands.

The porch steps creaked under Caleb’s weight. He knocked.

She shook her head, impatient with herself, with her instinct to panic (over Caleb, of all people!). Pinning on a smile, she opened the door. “Hey, good morning.” Her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“How’s it going?” He shut the door behind him, stepped out of his damp boots, and crammed his gloves into his pockets. “Wren leave already?” he asked, shrugging off his coat.

“Before I got up.”

“She should be fine. The storm passed through by midnight.” He hung his coat, then pulled an envelope out of one of its pockets. “I heard the snowplows early this morning.”

“You were awake?” She folded her arms across her chest, realizing she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Working on a paper.”

Her hoodie was dangling from one of the hooks by the door. While he said something about his geopolitical class, she grabbed the sweatshirt and pulled it on. “Where’s Fluffster?” She freed her hair from the neckline.

“Back at the house, sleeping. I probably should be doing the same. That essay kicked my ass.”

He did look exhausted. Smudges hung under his eyes.

Feeling calmer, Maggie managed a friendly “How about some coffee?”

“Sounds great.” He collapsed into a chair at the table.

After pouring him a cup, Maggie indicated the envelope with a lift of her chin. “What’s that?”

“Linnie’s letter.”

She sat opposite him. “What are you going to do with it?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping you might have a suggestion.”