Jake looked at her.
“And outside?”
“Quiet.”
“Not peaceful.”
“Quiet.”
He understood difference.
“How long?”
“Five years.”
“That’s a lot to leave.”
Sophia looked at him.
“Yes.”
Jake did not say good for you.
Leaving something after five years could be right and still hurt.
Sophia seemed grateful.
Then she asked:
“What did Maya tell you about me?”
Jake took a drink.
“You hate olives.”
Sophia stared.
“That’s all?”
“She said you were smart.”
“Funny.”
“Single.”
“Temporarily in town.”
Sophia raised eyebrow.
“That last one.”
Jake noticed.
“How temporary?”
She hesitated.
“Six weeks.”
Something small inside him stepped backward.
He told himself that was sensible.
He did not know her.
They were twenty minutes into a date.
Six weeks should not matter.
“What are you doing here?”
he asked.
“My grandmother died in October.”
“I’m handling her property.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“She lived here?”
“Most of the year.”
“Evelyn Lauron.”
Jake knew the name.
Everyone in Silverpine did.
Lauron Lodge sat above the valley on forty acres of pine, stone, and snow. It had once been a private mountain retreat and later a small inn. Closed now.
Jake looked at Sophia’s surname differently.
“Lauron.”
She saw recognition.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you realize my family owns things.”
Jake leaned back.
“I realized your family owns one thing.”
She laughed.
“Several.”
“How many?”
“Enough that this conversation usually becomes annoying.”
Jake nodded.
“Then don’t tell me.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“If you don’t want to talk about family money, don’t.”
Sophia studied him.
“Most people ask.”
“I fix cars.”
“Everyone’s rich when their transmission is working and poor when it isn’t.”
She laughed.
Jake smiled.
“I know Lauron Lodge.”
“My dad repaired their snowblower twenty years ago.”
“Seriously?”
“Probably.”
“Morrison Auto has been around?”
“My father started it.”
“I bought it from him.”
“Paid too much.”
“He says too little.”
“Family business.”
Sophia smiled.
“Mine too.”
For the first time, the difference between them felt less like a wall and more like a strange bridge.
They stayed until Maya turned the OPEN sign off.
Jake realized the café was empty only when Maya dropped a dish towel loudly onto counter.
“Some of us have homes.”
Sophia checked phone.
10:13.
Her eyes widened.
Jake looked equally surprised.
Maya smiled smugly.
Jake stood.
“Do not.”