“There’s a full carton inside.” He waves a hand toward his cabin, a signal that I should go and get them myself.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll just …” I begin moving for the front door before he can change his mind.

“Did that garden basket fetch any money for the auction?” he hollers after me, stalling my feet.

“Yeah.” I hesitate. “Some might say too much. You know, because of that faulty handle.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “How are things going over at your place, with the big meet and greet and all that?”

He’s actually making an effort to have a conversation. That’s a good sign. “Well …” I find myself wandering back closer. “My mom thinks Jonah and I are having a shotgun wedding next week and serving everyone roadkill at the reception, so she’s having a coronary, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Björn and Jonah are arm wrestling when I get back.” Agnes and Mabel arrive today, and it’s a blessing they’re staying in the cabin across the lake. At least they have somewhere to escape.

Which reminds me—I need to get out there to prepare it. George and Bobbie said they’d be dropping them off around one, on their way to their cabin up near Fairbanks.

Roy’s brow pinches with curious amusement. “And why does your mother think you two are getting married next week?”

“Because Muriel told everyone that we are.” I explain Astrid’s health condition and Toby’s suggestion, in as few words as possible because Roy gets impatient with too many details.

By the time I’m done, he’s shaking his head. “The day that woman stops meddling in people’s lives is the day she stops breathing.”

“She meant well,” I defend half-heartedly. “And Astrid probably shouldn’t be flying back and forth from Oslo like this. It is risky. I’d feel terrible if something happened to her.” A reality that’s weighing more on me as time passes. “It’s just not what I was picturing for myself. It’s definitely not what my mother pictured.”

Roy leans back against the barn’s frame and folds his arms across his chest. “So, you gonna go through with it next week, then?”

“I don’t know?” Without much thought, I add, “Should I?”

Roy’s bushy eyebrows pop with a flash of surprise. “You askin’ me? For wedding advice?”

“I don’t know. Sure.” I chuckle. “Why not?” Roy was the first one to find out about our engagement, before my mom and Simon, even before Diana. He was the first to offer congratulations.

And, of all the people who waited with me for news of Jonah’s whereabouts on that dreaded night, it was Roy who I found myself leaning on for support.

“You must be lost, then.” His thoughts seem to wander as his gaze drifts over the tidy woodpiles beside his truck. “Nicole’s parents never wanted her to marry me. At first, they refused to pay for the wedding, but when they realized she was hellbent on doin’ it no matter what, even if it meant standin’ in front of a judge with a stranger to sign on the witness line, they changed their tune. They gave their daughter the wedding she deserved, even if it was to a guy who didn’t deserve her.” He drops his eyes to his work boots. “All that money they poured into that fancy affair, and what did it get her? Not happiness, I can tell you that much. At least not with me.” He snorts. “Jim … that was the guy. I knew she’d end up back with him.”

“She did get a beautiful daughter because of you,” I remind him gently. “And then two grandchildren.”

He glowers, pulling away from his relaxed stance. “I don’t give a shit what other people want, and you shouldn’t, either. Marry Jonah while you’re standin’ in an empty barn wearin’ your woolens and surrounded by goat shit, or marry him next year in some big, expensive dog-and-pony show with a bunch of strangers lookin’ on. It shouldn’t matter to anyone who means anything to you. It sure as hell won’t make a stitch of difference to your marriage, ’specially not when the ‘for better or worse’ hits those ‘worse’ parts.” He reaches for the barn-door handle. “And, for what it’s worth, if anyone could pull a wedding out of their ass in a week and make it not suck, it’d be you.”

I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Take it however you want.” The barn door rolls open with his tug.

“Hey, why don’t you come for dinner tonight?”

“And deal with that shit show you got goin’ on over there? No, thanks.” The door slides shut with a soft thud behind him.

I take this opportunity to grab the wrapped gifts from my back seat. Inside Roy’s cabin, I set them on the floor beside the trunk where the Christmas tree still sits, despite Roy’s vehement complaints. Only now, the card from Delyla is propped next to it, and tucked in the corner of the old framed picture of Nicole and Delyla is the four-by-six of her and her children.

“And yet you’re not going to call her, are you, you old bugger?” I shake my head as I collect the dozen eggs from the counter where Roy said they’d be.

I take my time on Roy’s lengthy driveway and then the road, not in a rush to return to whatever mess is waiting for me. But the entire ride, I’m thinking about Roy and the daughter he won’t contact, no matter how badly I suspect he wants to.

I spot the blue snowmachine parked at the hangar when I coast up our driveway. Jonah must have escaped “that shit show” as Roy so aptly described it. As much as I need to get these eggs back to Simon, I divert from my path.

Inside, I find Jonah rifling through the emergency kit stored in Archie. He looks up at the sound of the door slamming shut. “Roy give you some eggs?”

“A dozen.”

“Should be enough.”

I shudder against the chilly air. Even with the heating system in place, it’s never truly warm in here. Jonah is accustomed and unbothered by it. I am not. “What are you doing?”

“Replacing all the granola bars I had in here. I was hungry the other day, so I pulled one out and it tasted like cardboard.”

I close the distance and rest my cheek against his shoulder. “What happened after I left?”

“You mean after you abandoned me?” He smirks as he tosses two stale bars into the nearby trash bin before pivoting to lean against the table, facing me. “Let’s see … Björn started chirping at me in Norwegian because he knows it pisses me off, so I told him I’d be more than happy to drive him back to the airport. My mother told me to stop being an asshole. I probably deserved that.”

“And what about my mom?”

Jonah chuckles. “Muriel promised her that the plumbing issue in the community center usually doesn’t act up in extremely cold weather, and that everyone would be more than willing to bring food if we held the reception there.”

“Oh my God. A potluck wedding in a community center.” I groan. “So basically my mother’s worst nightmare.”

“Sounds pretty good if you ask me, but that vein on her forehead was pulsing. That’s when I left.”

I fall against Jonah’s broad chest, welcoming his comforting arms around me. “Why did Muriel have to do that?”