11
Robin knew she was overreacting. Or at least not making sense to anyone other than herself.
Their triumphant return to Larch Creek from the wilds of Alaska should have been a time of stories and laughter. Of sitting around that big table in the town’s only restaurant and recounting the saga of the Mighty Furrow of Death and Destruction. Perhaps turn it into a ballad that would be passed down through the generations.
Instead, she’d done the only thing she was capable of doing.
She’d walked through the town, leaving Mickey to return the kayaks and other gear. A few people greeted her, but she didn’t know anyone here so kept walking with only a nod of acknowledgment.
When she reached the oddly named B&B, the Bookish Bed and Breakfast, she looked at the shower. The one that she’d been
