Feeling her face warm, she pointed to their cars and started walking toward them. “We’ll be at my place in two minutes.”
“DID YOUR FAMILY own this place before you moved in?” he asked, scanning the room.
She smiled. “Nope. I chose it after Lyle bought me out of my share of our house. I could have found a larger home for the same money, but I traded all those possibilities for this cottage with a view of the lake and empty space on each side of me.”
She beckoned him farther inside and pointed to the cushioned window seat as an invitation to sit. “The location meant much more to me than the size of the rooms.”
A sleek wooden desk sat angled so her office chair looked out the window at the lake. High bookcases lined the wall next to it and three tall file cabinets provided a boundary where the living room and dining area ended and the office began.
The main room housed a short couch and a couple of reading chairs and lamps, but left no space available for more shelves or even a TV.
As if reading his mind, she said, “We have three tiny bedrooms, and the smallest is our TV and game room, more or less. Evan regularly grumbles about being cramped in there. His father’s place—our old house—is about four times the size. We have joint custody, so Evan spends a lot of time there, too. But this place is big enough for him to bring friends around, especially in the summer, when we grill on the patio at the side of the house.”
Miles stared at the whitecaps rippling over the gray water. “Don’t worry, one day Evan will tell stories about the great little cottage he grew up in.”
“Promise?” she said with a laugh. “Somehow, we do manage to make it work. His room has a good view, and he has his space, small as it is, fixed up exactly the way he wants it—and it’s that way at his dad’s, too.”
He recognized something in her voice. The same wistfulness that came over him from time to time. Lark, too, had been forced to accept a family arrangement that bore no resemblance to the one she’d imagined on the day she’d married this Lyle guy. Miles well understood the back-and-forth shuffle common for divorced parents—if they were lucky and managed to work out an arrangement with their ex.
“Brooke’s life is like your son’s. She has a set of things in her room in my house, more stuff at her mother’s and a few belongings she carries from one place to the other in her backpack.”
Wanting to change the subject, he pointed to piles of files, clippings and a laptop. “So, what are you working on now?”
“A series on various types of migraines.” She tapped three file folders in turn. “Plus, I’m a contributing editor for an online monthly for parents of kids with disabilities.” She picked up a file from another stack. “Research abstracts. Seems like almost everything I do these days circles back to autism.”
Her expression darkened.
“What is it?”
“I see—or rather hear and read about—so much pain,” she said, wincing. “Parents hurting because their kids struggle. They’re constantly hoping for an autism breakthrough. Something that gives their kids a chance at a so-called normal life. I’ve been so lucky with Evan. It makes all the hard times as a parent pale in comparison to what other people go through.”
She tapped her temple. “It just occurred to me that if Perrie Lynn is the one, then we truly are among the luckiest people I know.”
“Because we’re pretty sure she’s okay? Is that what you’re saying?” He extended his hands toward her. “Well, better than okay—she has dreams, a passion.”
Nodding, she added, “And she’s pursuing those dreams and making them come true. I’ve so hoped she was happy and healthy.” She cast a pointed look his way. “I imagine you’ve had the same thought.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d assumed everything was fine. He didn’t know how to explain that detachment or his lack of worry. Sometimes, what he and Lark had been through barely seemed real. But he wasn’t going to admit to that now. Instead, he smiled and nodded.
He turned to the window. “Not much separates you from the park. Some maples and birches, and a few rows of cedars.”
She moved to his side. “I love those trees. They frame my view. And for about eight months of the year I walk the beach almost every day. I head over to the stony beach way beyond the downtown park. Even when tourist season peaks in the summer few people venture that far. Fall is the best season of all.”
“The water is a little rough today. And it looks cold.”
She grinned. “But you should see it when the moon is out on a still, clear night. No wonder someone thought to name this town Two Moon Bay. The moon is reflected so perfectly it’s easy to believe you could swim out and lift it right out of the water.”
“And take a bite out of it, too, I imagine.”
“Right you are. And it’s not cheese. I like to think of it as a big sugar cookie.”
Miles grinned. He was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off her. When Lark had come to mind these past few years, he’d thought of her as taller. But the top of her head reached just above his shoulder. Her hair matched his memory, though. Thick and wavy, it brushed her shoulders. His mother used the word extravagant to describe hair like Lark’s. Her delicate features were a stark contrast to his sharply angled face.
“This is what I propose,” Lark said, backing away from the window and resting her hip on the corner of her desk. “Let’s start by investigating the adoption and disclosure laws in Michigan. I can check back with the adoption agency in Minnesota to see how this works across state agencies.”
“According to what Brooke told me, and that came by way of her babysitter, Mamie, Perrie Lynn and her mother are in Ann Arbor only to work with a specific coach,” Miles explained. “Her father stayed in Minneapolis, where he runs a business. Their home is still there.”
“Are you sure about that? The website mentioned Michigan.”
“I know, but apparently, uprooting part of the family isn’t unusual for these skaters. They accept that they’ll be living in two places for a time. The commentators talked about it yesterday. Perrie Lynn and her mother made the move by themselves and her dad visits and goes to the competitions.”
“I get it. That happens in gymnastics, as well.” Lark laughed. “Your little Brooke is becoming a walking encyclopedia of figure skating. Mamie must be quite a babysitter.”
“She is, and Brooke likes her a lot. By the way, from what the commentators said, Perrie Lynn’s new coach is the main reason for her fast rise in the standings.” Miles paused and searched his memory. “I caught his name. I think, no, I’m sure it’s Declan Rivers. He’s coached a few International medalists and world champions.”
“You picked up a lot of information in one afternoon,” Lark said, grinning.
“Hey, I’m on a first-name basis with Katie and Allen, the commentators. They fed me all kinds of random facts.”
“Okay, then,” she said, “let’s start with what we know and see if we can figure out a way to reach her.”
“No, at the most, we could reach her parents,” he said, enunciating each word. He needed confirmation they were of one mind on this.
Lark’s hand flew up in a defensive gesture. “Yes, of course. I meant to say her parents.”
He