Page 6 of Finding Home

Cole’s smile seemed genuine, but it was tinged with the wariness of someone who was being careful about what they said. “I hope the meeting answered some of your questions about the project.”

“It did.” After listening to his presentation, Julie wanted to understand what drove Cole to build a luxury resort in a small Montana town. But before she could ask a question that wouldn’t seem intrusive, Noah appeared at Cole’s elbow, murmuring something about another resident wanting to speak with him.

Cole excused himself politely, leaving Julie alone with the impression that there was far more to him than his polished presentation suggested.

She stayed another twenty minutes, making small talk with Susan and a few other women from the cooking class. But her mind kept returning to that moment when Cole’s voice had faltered, revealing vulnerability beneath the professional exterior.

After Julie had driven home to her rented cottage, she made a cup of Chamomile tea and sat in the living room.

Somewhere in Sapphire Bay, Cole was probably reviewing the meeting, planning his next steps, and preparing for whatever came next. She wondered if he was as alone as she felt. If he questioned whether building beautiful spaces for others was enough. If he went to bed in generic rentals, wondering if he’d made the right choices.

Julie sighed as she studied her grandmother’s recipe box sitting on the coffee table. Inside were index cards covered in faded handwriting, instructions for pot roast, apple pie, and the bread she was learning to bake.

Her grandmother had never questioned her value, never worried about being obsolete. She’d simply created, day after day, making a home for the people she loved.

Maybe that was the answer Julie needed. It wasn’t the bylines or breaking stories that made her life complete. It was creating something that nourished the soul instead of exposing corruption and half-truths.

She fell asleep thinking about bread dough rising in warm kitchens, the glow of a projector screen illuminating a tired man’s face, and the way Cole Morrison’s eyes had lingered on his resort renderings.

Maybe creating the resort was his answer to a new life.

Chapter 4

The Welcome Center kitchen smelled of vanilla and cinnamon when Julie arrived for her Thursday cooking class. She placed her canvas bag on an empty workspace and took out her notebook. It was already filling with recipes and small observations that had nothing to do with journalism and everything to do with the life she was trying to build.

“You’re early today.” Susan stepped out of the pantry holding two large bags of apples. Her silver hair was pulled back in a loose twist, and her apron was covered in pictures of kittens.

“I had some errands in town that didn’t take as long as I expected,” Julie said.

Susan’s face brightened with understanding. “You’ve got perfect timing. You can help me get everything ready for today’s class. We’re making apple galettes.”

Julie was grateful for the invitation. The alternative was returning to her cottage, where silence pressed against the walls and her laptop sat on the dining table. Instead of being a lifeline to her work, it was a constant reminder that she needed to find a job.

Julie joined Susan as she cut butter into the flour for rough puff pastry. When Julie mimicked the motions, the butter left her fingertips slick and cool.

“How are you settling in?” Susan asked. “I know Sapphire Bay can feel small after living in a city.”

“I’d lived in Seattle for most of my life,” Julie said, keeping her focus on the pastry dough forming beneath her palms. “So Sapphire Bay is definitely an adjustment.”

“What brought you here?” Susan asked.

Julie hesitated. The question was innocent enough, the kind any friendly acquaintance might ask. But answering meant remembering the parts of her life she’d sooner forget.

“My grandma grew up near Kalispell,” she said at last. “I spent the summers with her before she moved to Seattle to look after me when my mom died. I always remembered the lake and the mountains. When I needed a fresh start, this seemed as good a place as any.”

Susan’s hands stilled. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Julie focused on what she was doing. “I was eleven when she died. Thankfully, Grandma was happy to look after me.” She shaped her dough into a disc, wrapping it in plastic as Susan had shown her. “For a long time, she was the only steady person in my life. When things didn’t go to plan, it didn’t matter. She always made sure I had plenty of hugs to make me feel better.”

“She sounds like a lovely person.” Susan walked to the refrigerator and took out more butter. “I found some of your articles online. They were really good. I still don’t understand why the newspaper let you go.”

Julie sighed. Being laid off had hurt more than she wanted to admit. “It was because of budget cuts. I wasn’t the only person who had to leave. Three of my friends who’d been working at the paper for longer than me had to leave, too.”

Susan made a disappointing sound. “I would have expected more loyalty than that.”

“Loyalty is hard to find,” Julie said softly.

Before Susan could reply, Rachel and Maria came into the kitchen, their cheerful greetings filling the room with warmth. Beth followed minutes later, apologizing for running late. Laurel slipped in quietly, offering a shy smile as she claimed her usual corner station.