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.“Why do you care?”He opened his mouth to answer.and then found he had no answer other than that unwelcome protective sense looming again.Scowling, he brooded over it until they chugged up the hill to the cabins.When Brett braked, he jumped out.Ryan opened his door, intending to follow, then glanced back at Poppy, still glued in place.On a sigh, he turned back to her, unable to resist her and her worried face.“Come on,” he said, releasing her seat belt then pulling her out by the hand.“You’ll see, it’ll work out.”Though clearly she knew her siblings better than he did.While Brett grudgingly remarked on Poppy’s painting efforts of the two refurbished cabins, Mackenzie didn’t hesitate to proclaim “What a mess,” while surveying the damaged mudroom roof.The fallen limb was cleared, though; the wood chopped, split and stacked for future fireplace use.Ryan pushed his hands in his pockets and studied the surroundings.“I think you Walkers are seeing the place through the wrong lens.I spent over a week here and couldn’t get enough of the view.If there were skiing and snowboarding.” He tilted his head to take in the mountain that loomed over the cabins, the summit still covered with snow.“It could be a great little winter escape.”“We don’t have exclusive rights to the mountain,” Brett said, and the four siblings looked at each other, then spit in the dirt, used the toes of their shoes to rub it into the ground and crossed their hearts.Having seen the ritual before, Ryan didn’t flinch.“There’s no way around it?”Brett shrugged.“Even if there was, there’s also the small question of—what is it again?” He snapped his fingers.“Oh, yeah, money.”“You can find investors.Maybe someone like me—”“God, no.” Though it was Mac who spoke, all four Walkers stared at him with identical horrified expressions.“Flatlander money would only bring more bad luck to a place already cursed,” Brett said.“That’s where our father went wrong,” Poppy continued.“Dad had big ideas for this place but no ready money to sink into it.So he sold an interest to Victor Fremont—” here she paused so they could do the whole spit and heart-cross thing again “—and after the fire took everything you-know-who wouldn’t invest any more cash.”“And he says he won’t give us permission to redevelop the mountain even if we win the lottery and come up with the scratch ourselves,” Mac added, her face stony.“Dad gave him that power.”“But we can fix up the cabins on our own,” Poppy said, then looked at her siblings.“I can fix them up.Just don’t actively oppose me, okay?”Her earnestness made Ryan’s chest ache.To avoid it, he studied the clearing, the cabins ringing it, and remembered the more remote ones he’d run across on his hikes in the woods.Everything looked different now.The snow-covered landscape had been spectacular, but without the white stuff and without the rain, he could see the potential of other seasons.The sun-heated pine needles would smell pungent and clean.Moonlight would edge the foliage with a silver light.“You have something special here,” he said, hardly aware he was talking aloud.“Think of summertime.Open windows.Quiet voices in the darkness.”Brett groaned.“Not another one.You’ve been hanging around Poppy too much.”She glared at her brother.“Come on, Brett.Can’t you keep an open mind?” Then she turned her gaze on her youngest sister.“What do you say, Shay? Will you give me the go-ahead to finish what I started?”The woman shrugged.“Since I’m not an actual blood Walker, I go with the majority.”“Shay,” the other siblings said together.But though they were unanimous in their reproach of their sister, the jury stayed out on the resort property.Not one of the three gave Poppy the words she wanted to hear.After a few minutes, they all climbed back in their respective vehicles, with Mac muttering about getting an appraisal on the value of the part of the acreage they were legally able to sell and Brett sharing the observation that Poppy had always been the family’s crazy, cock-eyed optimist.Clearly he didn’t consider it high praise.Frustrated, Ryan stared out the window as they returned to Blue Arrow Lake.He glanced over at Poppy, noting her preoccupied expression and the way she was once again worrying her sweater hem.“Maybe your brother and sisters will change their minds.Be more cooperative.”Her big gray eyes turned his way, their expression puzzled.“What? Oh.Don’t mind them.I’ll figure something out.”It was the offhand way she said it that made him realize the cabins weren’t the sole source of her tension.She’d mentally moved on to other trouble and damn, it bothered him that she wouldn’t open up about whatever that was.He went back to staring out the window and began formulating plans to woo the truth from her.Maybe he’d get one of the boats in the water and take her onto the lake.The relaxation might do the trick.Or perhaps he’d build up a big fire and sweat the truth from her.She’d strip out of that sweater and then.And then his mind went in the entirely wrong direction.Yanking it back, his gaze finally took in what he’d been staring at for miles of winding highway.“Whoa,” he said.Clusters of long-stemmed, vibrant yellow blooms marched along both sides of the road, their brightness a sudden shock to his system.“Daffodils.”Poppy glanced over.“Pretty, right?” And then she smiled.The power of that startled him, too.Its warmth slayed him.She slayed him.Impulse overcame him once more, and a deep need moved in his chest.He wanted to make things right for her.To make her happy.In four years he’d never felt the need to do anything in fucking March but escape himself.So he might not know what was going on with Poppy, but what was going on with him was something entirely new.And it bothered the hell out of him, because the man he’d been since his son’s death didn’t have the chops to do any good for anyone.* * *FROM YOU SEND ME, a screenplay by Linus Hamilton:INT.POST OFFICE—DAYCHARLIE’s at the counter, helping a customer.One person awaits service, and now two, as LINUS steps up to the back of the line.The patron in front of him is an old man clutching a handful of letters.He glances at LINUS.OLD MANAre you lost?On a sigh, LINUS shakes his head.CHARLIENext.LINUS’s attention wanders as he waits his turn.CHARLIENext.LINUS steps up to the counter.CHARLIEI thought you were already on your way back to L.A.She’s struggling to maintain her stoicism.LINUSI need to mail this.He tosses a picture postcard onto the counter.It’s a glossy photo of a mountain setting.Across the top it reads Mountain Greetings!LINUSA souvenir of my stay.CHARLIE flips it over.Her gaze lifts to LINUS.CHARLIEYou’re mailing it to yourself?LINUSWith a message from you.I hope.He produces a pen, tosses it down, too.A challenge.CHARLIE retrieves the ballpoint, clasps it a moment, then bends over the postcard.LINUS holds his breath.When she puts down the pen, the camera focuses on what she’s written.“Glad you were here.” And then, “Goodbye
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