A category that, upon investigation, included mainly the wind. You're good at this, Sophie said, packing snow with her mittened hands. I haven't built a snow fort in about 20 years, Riley said. Sophie found this incomprehensible. Why not?
I got busy. With what? Riley looked at the mountain ridge above the town, sharp against the blue sky. Work, mostly. Dad works a lot, too, Sophie said, but he still builds snow forts.
She paused. He built me this one last year. The walls weren't as good as yours. Don't tell him I said that. Your secret is safe.
Sophie nodded, satisfied, and went back to packing the south wall. Over the next two weeks, Riley Hargrove built a snow fort, learned to adjust a carburetor, burned a batch of pancakes, and then successfully made a second batch, watched three episodes of a nature documentary about Arctic foxes with Sophie, lost four games of Go Fish in a row, and helped Daniel hang new shelving in the garage on a Saturday afternoon that somehow extended into dinner, and then into the two of them sitting on the porch steps in the cold watching the stars come out over the mountains. She was not fixing anything. She was not optimizing anything. She was not producing any result that could be measured or reported.
She was, without fully realizing it, becoming happy. She hadn't told him who she was. Not exactly. He knew her name. He knew she had a company in Denver.
He hadn't asked for more, and she hadn't offered it. And in the space of his not asking, she had found something she hadn't known she needed. The experience of being known as a person rather than a net worth. She called Marcus once, kept it short. The company was fine.
There were decisions that needed her attention, but nothing that couldn't wait. She stayed. It was a Tuesday evening in the third week when Daniel told her about Lauren. Sophie was asleep. They were at the kitchen table, which was covered in the evidence of the evening, Sophie's homework.
Two empty mugs, a deck of cards from the Go Fish game. Riley was looking at a photograph on the refrigerator that she hadn't asked about. A woman with dark hair and Daniel's same direct eyes, laughing, standing in snow. That's Lauren, Daniel said. Not a question.
She looks happy, Riley said. She usually was. He was quiet for a moment. She was sick for about 18 months before she died. Cancer.