Quinn felt it immediately. That small tightening in her midsection.

Chapter 10 - Mirage of Trust

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Sydney

The ship was already in view when Quinn stepped out of the car. It rose at the end of the pier, massive, steady in the water. Larger than she expected. A floating hotel. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She paused just long enough to take it in, then shifted her attention to the terminal. Signs, lines, movement. The system revealed itself quickly. Efficient. Quinn adjusted the strap on her bag to draw it close, more out of habit than need, and stepped into the flow.

Liz and Connie were there, waving as if she could miss them. Quinn lifted a hand in return, already scanning past them, tracking the lines, the signage, the flow of people. She fell in beside them, letting them lead, watching how it worked. The trio followed the signs for suite passengers, nodding at the terminal staff as they directed them forward, all with genuine smiles of welcome.

Quinn stopped.

“Robbie.”

Liz caught it first. Her hand closed around Connie’s arm, stopping her mid-step. Three lines over, Robbie stood in the general boarding line. She hadn’t seen them yet.

Quinn’s body reacted before her mind. Something in her posture gave way, just for a second. Then she straightened and stayed where she was, watching.

Robbie looked up, scanning the crowd. Then she saw Quinn.

She didn’t change.

No urgency. No surprise. No embarrassment at being found in a place she had not said she would be.

Quinn registered it before she knew what to do with it. Robbie had not come looking uncertain. She had come prepared.

Quinn glanced at Liz and Connie, a small shake of her head.

“I don’t have a clue.”

Robbie stepped out of her line and walked toward them, unhurried.

“Hi.” Like they’d known all along that she would be there. “I couldn’t stay away. Not when you were doing this without me. I’ve missed you so much. When you told me you were going and since we were able to resolve the issue at the resort, I told them I was going to finish our vacation.”

Quinn shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you came all the way back here for the cruise. You did leave rather hastily.”

Leaning in to kiss Quinn, Robbie murmured in her ear…

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Mirage of Trust

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Robbie

She read the message once, then again.

I may join Liz and Connie on a New Zealand cruise next week. Thought you should know.

She did not answer immediately.

Quinn rarely wrote anything without intent, even when she pretended she was only passing along information. I may join meant she had already decided. Liz and Connie meant Robbie was supposed to understand there were other people involved now. Thought you should know was the part that irritated her most. Not because it was rude. It wasn’t. That was Quinn’s specialty. She could place a boundary inside a perfectly reasonable sentence and then act as if nothing had happened.

Robbie held the comm in one hand and studied the message until the first response faded from her body.

No.

That was the only honest answer.

No, you are not going on a cruise with two women you barely know. No, you are not extending this trip. No, you are not using distance to practice being less available.

But honest answers were rarely useful.

Robbie opened the reply field.

That sounds perfect for you. I’m glad you’re getting out and enjoying the trip.

She read it once, changed good to perfect, then changed having fun to enjoying the trip. Fun sounded careless. Enjoying sounded generous. Perfect suggested approval without asking for anything in return.

The timing mattered too. Too fast would seem eager. Too slow would invite Quinn to wonder what Robbie was thinking.

Robbie waited another twelve seconds, then sent it.

The comm made the softest sound when the message left.

There. Supportive. Reasonable. Warm enough.

She set the comm on the counter and opened the linked travel screen on the wall panel.

Quinn’s itinerary appeared in its usual place. Sydney. Open dates. No onward booking yet.

Robbie stood still while she reviewed it.

Quinn was moving.

Not physically yet, but the movement had started. Robbie had seen it before. Quinn did not stay inside uncertainty. She moved toward action and called it clarity. She gathered facts, made plans, took a step, then another, and by the time she admitted something had changed, she had already built herself a new exit.

Robbie had learned to account for that.

She opened the settings menu, entered the secondary verification code, and waited for the panel to accept it. The screen shifted. She moved through the options without hesitation. Notifications. Shared access. Location permissions. Travel updates.

One setting had reverted after the last system update.

Robbie corrected it.

The change was small. A practical adjustment. Nothing Quinn would notice unless she went looking for it, and Quinn would not go looking. Not yet. She still believed their shared systems existed because they were convenient. She had always underestimated the usefulness of convenience.

Robbie closed the panel and checked the comm again.

No reply.

That was expected.

Quinn would read the message and feel relieved. She would tell herself Robbie was being gracious. She might even feel faintly guilty for assuming otherwise, which would help. Guilt had never been Quinn’s strongest lever, but it was not useless.

Robbie picked up her water glass from the counter. A faint ring had formed beneath it. She wiped it away with the side of her hand, then rinsed the glass and set it exactly on the drying rail.

A small disorder became a larger disorder when no one corrected it.

The comm lit again.

Not Quinn.

Robbie ignored the incoming message and reopened the travel screen, this time checking the cruise route. Sydney to Auckland. Twelve days. Multiple ports. Limited connectivity in some areas, according to the itinerary notes.

She did not like that.

Not the distance. Distance was manageable.

It was the women.

Liz and Connie had become a problem faster than Robbie expected. On paper, they were nothing. Retired. Ordinary. Socially harmless. But Quinn had been different after that day with them. Lighter in a way that made her less predictable. Less careful about Robbie’s expectations. More willing to let silence sit between them without rushing to repair it.

People misunderstood influence. They looked for dramatic persuasion, for speeches, for pressure. They missed the quieter danger of someone offering comfort without asking to be paid back.

Robbie understood that kind of interference.

She returned to Quinn’s message one more time.

Thought you should know.

Robbie almost smiled.

Yes. Quinn had thought she should know.

What Quinn had not considered was how much Robbie already knew. The accounts. The access points. The old documents Quinn never bothered to separate because practical women trusted practical arrangements. The shared address histories. The emergency files. The old answers people gave once and forgot they had given.

Quinn had spent thirty years understanding systems.

Robbie had spent years understanding Quinn.

That was different.

She closed the message thread and placed the comm face down on the counter.

For now, the answer would remain yes.

Yes, go on the cruise.

Yes, enjoy the trip.

Yes, believe this is your decision.

Robbie could be patient when patience served her. She had no interest in chasing Quinn across the Pacific like some abandoned lover with no discipline. That was not who she was. She would let Quinn move. She would let the cruise create its little illusion of freedom. She would let Liz and Connie believe they had offered something Quinn needed.

Then Robbie would arrive.

Not too soon. Not angrily. Not in a way Quinn could object to without seeming unreasonable.

A surprise.

That was better.

Quinn valued composure. She valued control. She valued the ability to prepare.

So Robbie would take preparation away from her.

She picked up the comm again and opened her own calendar.

There were flights to Sydney every day.

She did not book one yet. Booking too early indicated impulse, and impulse was for people who had not thought ahead. Robbie only checked availability, compared routes, and marked the cleanest option.

Then she closed the calendar.

Everything was still where it should be.

For now.

~~~~~~~

Chapter 9 - Mirage of Trust

She can go anywhere she wants.
But her body still reaches for permission.

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Australia

Quinn closed the cottage door behind her and stood for a moment with her hand still resting on the handle. She did not move deeper into the room right away. Instead, she slowly scanned it from where she stood, as if she expected the cottage to announce what had changed. Nothing was disturbed. The chair near the window sat at the same angle. The glass she had left in the kitchen that morning was still beside the sink. Her bag from the day hung from her shoulder, heavier than it had felt an hour ago, but the room itself seemed lighter. Brighter. Quieter in a way that did not feel like absence anymore. She could hear the waves breaking out back, soft and regular beyond the lanai, and for once she did not listen for Robbie’s movements in the other room.

It felt almost like home.

The thought arrived so quietly she almost missed it. Then it stayed there, plain and unsettling. Quinn kept her hand on the door handle a moment longer, feeling the cool metal beneath her palm, waiting for the thought to correct itself. It didn’t. The cottage felt easier without Robbie in it, and that was not a conclusion Quinn wanted to reach while standing in the entry with her bag still on her shoulder. So she let go of the handle. She set the bag on the chair near the window and walked into the kitchen.

The freezer drawer slid open with a soft pull. Ice cubes sat in their tray, clear and solid, untouched. She twisted the tray once and dropped a handful into the glass. The sharp crack of ice breaking loose echoed in the quiet room, louder than it should have been, and she almost smiled at the sound. She poured the gin and breathed it in before adding the tonic, catching juniper first, then something herbal and sharp beneath it. Almost peppery. She added tonic, not too much, because she wanted to taste the gin. Then lime. She cut it cleanly, the scent hitting her before the knife had fully pressed through the rind.

Quinn carried the glass to the table on the lanai and sat. She took one deep swallow and set the glass down, letting the cold settle against her tongue and throat. The first sip was always the best. She looked out toward the harbor, where the water moved in slow patterns, ripples crossing each other without hurry. Boats rocked in place, held but not still. It was the kind of movement that could lull a person into a meditative state if she let it. Her shoulders dropped a fraction, and only then did she realize how tightly she had been holding them.

On the table beside her was a shell she had found on another beach. She had picked it up without thinking much about it, drawn by the color, then brought it back as if it had asked to come with her. Now she turned it slightly with her fingers, watching the light shift over its ridges before leaving it where it was. She took another sip. Cold. Clean. The bite of the gin was sharper than she expected the second time, but not unpleasant. It was something she could notice without having to explain.

For the first time since Robbie had left, Quinn let herself think past the next hour. Not far. Not in any practical way. She simply allowed the question to rise. What comes next? It did not land as pressure, not the way it had before, when every plan seemed to require an answer from someone else or permission she had not realized she was seeking. Sitting there with the harbor in front of her and the cottage quiet behind her, the question felt different. Less like a demand. More like a door standing open.

Possibilities.

The conversation from earlier drifted back. Liz’s laughter. Connie leaning forward, describing the coastline with both hands, as if she could shape the route in the air between them. A small ship. Easy stops. No schedule that mattered very much. At the time, Quinn had brushed it off as another plan, another suggestion, another thing she would have to respond to politely and then set aside. But now, alone on the lanai, she found herself picturing it. It would be like sitting here, she thought, only in motion. The horizon a clean line between sea and sky. The air changing every day. A room that moved forward without asking her to decide everything at once.

No expectations tied to her.

She took another sip, eyes still on the harbor. Melbourne, Tasmania, and something Connie had said about playing golf with kangaroos. Quinn had never played golf in her life, which somehow made the idea easier instead of harder. No history with it. No standard to meet. No version of herself she had to perform. Just a chance to relax and have fun. The thought surprised her with its simplicity. She felt comfortable with Liz and Connie, and that surprised her too. Comfortable was not a word she had used casually in recent years.

Quinn reached for her comm.

And stopped.

Her hand hovered just above it, fingers slightly curled, as if she had forgotten what she meant to do. Something tightened low in her chest, a small catch that arrived before thought. She stared at her own hand, annoyed by the hesitation and unsettled by it too. Wait. The word did not come fully formed, not exactly. It was more a feeling than a word, a quiet resistance inside her body before her mind had put any shape around it.

Then the thought followed. I should tell Robbie where I am.

Quinn frowned, her hand still suspended.

That didn’t make sense.

She let out a slow breath and leaned back in her chair. She was overthinking it. Robbie had left. That was the only fact that mattered. Robbie had packed her things, arranged her own departure, and gone without asking Quinn what would make the rest of the trip easier. Quinn put her feet up on the lanai railing, eyes still on the harbor, trying to let the obviousness of that settle inside her. She was retired. She could go wherever she wanted. No one was waiting for her. No one was keeping track. No one had any claim on this decision unless Quinn gave it to them.

She sat there a moment longer, letting that thought become steady enough to trust. Then she reached for her comm again and opened a new message to Liz.

If the offer still stands, I’ll take you up on that cruise. Tell me how to book my cabin.

She sent it before she could reconsider.

The reply came quickly.

We’d love that. It’s going to be fun. We’ve got a two-bedroom suite, so don’t worry about booking anything now. We’ll settle up on board. I’ll send you the details in a few minutes.

Quinn smiled, just slightly. There was no pressure in it. No negotiation hidden underneath. No careful management of someone else’s reaction. Just a yes, easy and warm, arriving without a hook attached. She set the comm down and picked up her glass, pleased with herself in a small, almost private way.

Then, without thinking, she reached for the comm again and opened a message.

Robbie’s name sat there at the top, unchanged.

Quinn set the comm down and lowered her hand slowly, letting it rest on the table.

That didn’t make sense either.

Robbie had left. Robbie had made that decision without asking. Robbie had moved on to the next part of her own trip as if Quinn were something already handled. Why would Quinn need to explain anything now?

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Chapter 8 - Mirage of Trust

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Australia (Flashback)

The next morning, Quinn carried her coffee out to the cottage’s lanai and stood there a moment before sitting. The harbor stretched wide in front of her, light moving across the surface in slow, shifting bands. A breeze came through the trees behind her, carrying salt and eucalyptus. It felt like a place she could breathe.

Her comm sat face down on the table next to her coffee.

When it chirped, Quinn turned and stared at it, not reaching for it right away. Her hand hovered just above it, the pause instinctive now, something she didn’t question anymore.

Then she turned it over.

Liz. The breath left her in a quiet rush.

“Hi, sleepyhead. What are you doing on this gorgeous day?”

“Hi, Liz.” She smiled, hearing the relief in her own voice and not trying to cover it. “And I’ve been up for hours, by the way. I’m just not all put together like you clearly are. I’m on vacation. Footloose and fancy free.”

Connie leaned into the frame, nudging Liz aside. “Want to go to the beach? We know the perfect spot. And there’s a café nearby that actually has good food.”

“That sounds perfect. Should I come to Sydney?”

“No need,” Liz said. “We’re catching the ferry from our side and switching over at Barangaroo. You’ll see us.”

“We’ll grab the river ferry down to Cabarita,” Connie added. “It’s worth the extra ride.”

“I’ll be there.”

The call ended. Quinn stood there a moment longer, looking out over the water, then moved inside.

She packed quickly, more decisively than she had in days. Swimsuit. Light dress. Sunscreen. The hat she’d bought and hadn’t worn.

In the mirror, she caught her reflection in passing.

Quinn groaned. “I look like I’ve been beaten up.”

She pinched her cheeks, bringing a little color back. “That will have to do.”

Barangaroo was busy when she arrived, ferries coming and going in a steady rhythm.

She saw Liz and Connie step off the ferry from Sydney, mid-conversation, moving easily beside each other. No hesitation in their pace, no need to check where the other was.

“Quinn!” Liz lifted her hand.

Connie followed, smiling as they crossed toward her.

“You made it,” Connie said.

“So did you.”

“We always do,” Liz said lightly. “Eventually.”

Another ferry was pulling in.

“That’s ours,” Connie said. “We’ll catch this one downriver.”

They moved with the small group boarding, stepping onto the narrower, flat river ferry that would take them toward Cabarita.

The seats lined the edges, leaving them close together. Liz settled on one side of Quinn, Connie on the other, as if it had been decided without saying anything.

“This is the better part of the ride,” Liz said. “Once we’re out of the harbor, everything slows down.”

The ferry pushed off, the engine low beneath them. They fell into conversation without effort.

“We tried to find this place yesterday by car,” Connie said. “Liz insisted we turn left.”

“It was the correct turn.”

“It absolutely was not.”

“We arrived.”

“After going in a full circle.”

Liz shrugged. “A scenic adjustment.”

Quinn laughed, the sound coming easily. It took her a moment to recognize what felt different.

She wasn’t tracking anyone.

The beach was small, tucked into a quiet curve of land. There was no need to rush anywhere. By unspoken agreement, they swam first, the water warmer than Quinn expected, the waves steady and predictable. For a while, she let herself move with it, not thinking ahead, not replaying last week’s events.

Later, they sat in the sand, towels wrapped loosely around their shoulders, watching the waves lap up onto the shore as the tide went out.

At the café, they found a table near the edge of the deck. Service was quick, and their drinks were in their hands in a moment.

Their conversation began with easy questions, each answer opening another small door. Quinn gave them the condensed version of her life. Moving every few years as a child with Air Force parents. Starting employment with Homeland Security, meeting Robbie and later, after moving to Vermont, Riley. And this trip, her first time in Australia.

Liz and Connie filled in their own pieces without hesitation.

“Seattle, originally,” Liz said. “A long time ago.”

“Fifteen years here now,” Connie added. “We said we’d try it for a year.”

“We’re still trying it,” Liz said.

Quinn smiled. “Seems like it stuck. How long have you two been together?”

Liz and Connie exchanged a glance.

“Twenty-five years,” Connie said.

“We’re giving it a bit more time,” Liz added.

“Still undecided,” Connie said.

Quinn laughed, and this time it stayed with her.

“So Homeland Security?” Liz asked without a complete question.

Quinn leaned back slightly.

“Yes, Homeland Security.”

Connie raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a casual profession.”

“It was never a casual job.”

“What kind of work?”

Quinn hesitated, then answered.

“Identity protection. Border work. A lot of pattern recognition.”

“Tiring?” Liz asked.

“In the end, yes.” Quinn paused, then added, “But I was good at it.”

They didn’t ask her to explain it further. The conversation shifted easily.

“We lived in Hawaii for a while,” Quinn said, looking past them toward the water. “Years ago. When things were… better.”

“With Robbie?” Liz asked.

Quinn nodded.

“We met there. Both working. It was good.” She let out a small breath. “We were together about three years before everything moved.”

“Work?” Connie asked.

“Yes. I went to Vermont. She went to Japan.”

“And that was the end of it?”

“For a long time.”

Quinn rested her hands lightly on the table, fingers still. “Seven years,” she said. “We didn’t see each other. Then she reached out.”

Liz didn’t interrupt.

“We talked for months. VID calls. A lot of them.” Quinn gave a small, almost amused shake of her head. “It felt… real again. Or close enough that I wanted to believe it was.”

“And you decided to try again,” Connie said.

Quinn nodded. “I took early retirement. Went back to Hawaii. The plan was to go back and forth with her to Japan.”

“How was that?” Liz asked.

Quinn considered the question.

“Lonelier than I expected,” she said. “Japan wasn’t… what I thought it would be. Not that way.”

She paused.

“I found myself alone more than I thought I’d be.”

“And then?” Connie asked.

“I went back to Hawaii. To the house we had before.”

The word house didn’t quite land right.

“Our place,” she corrected. “The hale.”

Liz nodded once.

“And after that?” she asked.

“I called Riley,” Quinn said. “Asked her to pick me up at the airport.”

“Riley?”

Quinn smiled. “My best friend. I met her soon after I moved to Vermont.”

“I stayed in Echo Canyon with her for a while,” Quinn continued. “Then Robbie called again.”

She looked out toward the water.

“She wanted me to meet her here. In Australia. Said we needed time together. Just us.”

“And you came,” Connie said.

Quinn nodded. “Of course I did.” The words settled between them. Quinn looked down at her glass.

She sat with them for a moment, then added, “By then I knew more than I had the first time.”

Liz waited.

“But I still wanted…” Quinn stopped, then tried again. “I thought if we had the time again, like we did in Hawaii, it would come back.”

“The way it was,” Connie said.

“Yes.”

Quinn let out a breath.

“It didn’t feel like that.”

Silence settled at the table. The two women didn’t take it any further. They stayed longer than they meant to.

The conversation drifted back toward lighter things. Travel stories. Food. Places that surprised them.

At one point, Liz said, “We’re heading down the coast next week. We do a small cruise down to Tanzania.”

“Every year,” Connie added. “It’s our reset.”

Quinn looked at them, but let it go for the moment. “That sounds good,” Quinn said.

“It is,” Liz said. “No decisions to make. Just show up.”

Connie smiled. “You’d like it. You could come.”

Quinn’s nod was almost imperceptible. But she didn’t answer. She didn’t dismiss it either.

They took the same ferries back. This time, they sat in the sun, the energy quieter, the day settling around them. Connie pointed out something along the shoreline. Liz responded. Their conversation moved in small, easy rhythms.

Quinn leaned back, letting the warmth settle into her shoulders. She listened without needing to follow every thread. No one asked anything more of her. That was something she wasn’t used to.

At Barangaroo, they stepped off together and moved with the crowd before slowing near the edge of the dock.

“This was a good call,” Connie said.

“It was,” Quinn said.

Liz looked at her. “We’ll be around a few more days.”

Quinn met her eyes. “I’d love to see you again.”

Liz smiled. “Good.”

They stood there a moment longer than necessary, then, with a hug, separated, each heading in their own direction. Quinn watched as Connie and Liz reached for each other’s hands, their heads leaning together as they walked away, already laughing.

Back at the cottage, Quinn set her things down and stepped out onto the lanai again.

The harbor looked the same. Nothing had changed. But something inside her had shifted. Only then did she realize her shoulders had dropped.

For the first time since everything had started to come apart, she wasn’t holding all of it alone.

—-———

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Chapter 8 is open to everyone in the Veranda Open House.

To always have a seat on the veranda, I invite you to…

Come inside

Chapter 7 - Mirage of Trust

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Echo Canyon

Raven’s ranch rested where the canyon softened into green. Below it, the land opened into a lush subtropical basin fed by underground springs. Above it, the canyon walls rose toward the harsher middle-desert mountains.

Every morning Raven rode this ridge.

Spirit carried her easily along the narrow trail as the eastern sky shifted from deep indigo to pale gold. The air still held the coolness of night. Soon the sun would burn it away.

This was her quiet hour.

No trainees.

No visitors.

No conversations.

Just horse, land, and the long memory of those who had walked this ridge before her.

Today marked a small anniversary.

Six months since the Centennial Celebration.

Six months since Echo Canyon had stood together and declared the land protected.

Six months since Raven had opened the equestrian training center she had dreamed about for years.

It was also six months since her life had slowed.

For decades she had traveled constantly. Horse owners from across the country and often across the world had asked for her help. Airports, hotels, unfamiliar barns. She had spent years going to them.

Now they came here.

Raven rode the ridge between the green basin below and the harsher middle-desert slopes above.

Spirit slowed as they reached the overlook where Raven always stopped.

The canyon stretched below them, quiet and waiting for the first light.

The sun rose slowly over the far ridge, spilling gold across the stone.

Spirit lifted his head as the first edge of sunlight touched the canyon walls. Raven rested her hand against his neck.

“You see it too.”

The stallion shifted beneath her, eager to head home.

She smiled and loosened the reins.

Spirit knew the way.

By the time they reached the ranch cabins, the sun had climbed above the ridge and the gardens were already alive with movement.

Val knelt in the medicinal herb beds beside one of the interns, her hands deep in the soil.

Even from horseback Raven could see the careful rows of plants Val had spent months cultivating. Lavender, echinacea, desert sage, calendula. A blend of traditions, some learned in hospitals, others passed quietly through generations.

Raven guided Spirit closer.

“Good morning, Val.”

Val stood and brushed the dirt from her knees. She stepped forward and greeted Spirit with a gentle nuzzle.

The stallion immediately began searching her pockets.

Val laughed.

“You are shameless.”

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a carrot. Spirit took it delicately, crunching with obvious satisfaction.

Raven watched the familiar exchange.

“You spoil him.”

“He deserves it,” Val said.

Spirit finished the carrot and looked hopeful.

“That’s all you get,” she told him.

Val turned back to Raven, still seated easily in the saddle.

“Beautiful morning. Did you have a good ride?”

“An exceptionally good one.”

Raven swung down from the saddle with the ease of someone who had spent most of her life there.

“One of the wild mares is close to foaling. I’ll have Sam keep an eye on her today.”

She nodded toward the intern still working in the herb patch.

“How is Wainiha settling in?”

Val’s expression brightened.

“She’s wonderful. Honestly, she’s teaching me more than I’ve taught her.”

Raven smiled.

“Shikáni knows her people well.”

“She does,” Val agreed. “And Wainiha knows every bird in the canyon. She whistles their calls while she works. I catch myself stopping just to listen.”

Raven followed Val’s gaze across the gardens.

The morning light had turned the leaves silver-green.

“It’s an extraordinary place,” Val said quietly.

Raven studied her friend for a moment.

“You seem happy here.”

Val’s voice softened.

“This is my life now. My home.” She looked back at the gardens. “You helped me find my way back to myself.”

Raven touched her shoulder briefly, then gathered Spirit’s lead.

“I’ll take him to pasture.”

“Oh Raven,” Val called after her. “Have you heard from Riley? How Quinn is enjoying Australia?”

“No,” Raven said. “But Riley will probably be here this week. We can call her at lunch.”

She paused.

“Better yet. Send her a message and invite her and Ben to join us today. Skylar will probably wander through as well.”

Val smiled.

“I’ll do that.”

“The more the merrier,” Raven said. “I’ll tell Cook to add a few more places.”

Val waved as Raven led Spirit toward the pasture.

As she returned to the herb bed she murmured to herself, almost amused.

“I’m not the only one who has gone through a transformation.”

After turning Spirit loose in the pasture, Raven crossed the ranch toward the training ring.

Sam stood just outside the fence, holding the reins of the morning’s first horse.

“Ready when you are,” Sam said.

Shikáni sat easily on the top rail of the fence, watching the horse with the quiet patience she seemed to bring to everything.

The session moved smoothly.

Horse, rider, and trainer settled quickly into rhythm. When the work was finished, Shikáni slid off the fence rail and took the horse’s lead rope before Sam could reach it.

That was when Raven noticed a familiar vehicle turning into the ranch road.

Skylar stepped out, stretching after the drive.

“You’re back already,” Raven called.

Skylar lifted a hand in greeting.

“Barely.”

They walked together toward the ranch house porch. Raven disappeared inside for a moment and returned with two tall glasses of lemonade.

Skylar settled into one of the wooden chairs.

“Well,” Raven said, sitting across from her, “how is life in the world of bestselling authors?”

Skylar laughed softly.

“Busy. I just finished another book tour.”

She took a long drink.

“Thankfully it was a short one. I’m getting too old for that kind of travel.”

Raven raised an eyebrow.

“You?”

Skylar leaned back.

“I’m tired of spending six months writing a book and the next six months talking about it. That’s actually why I came to talk to you.”

Raven waited.

“You used to travel constantly,” Skylar said. “Now people come here.”

She gestured toward the ranch.

“I know our work is completely different. But you must have figured out a way to build this without living on airplanes.”

Raven smiled slightly.

“The canyon helps.”

Skylar looked intrigued.

“How?”

“People are curious about places that still feel real.”

Raven set her glass down.

“And technology makes distance less important than it used to be.”

She nodded toward the training ring.

“We run holographic training sessions for some clients now. Virtual workshops too. But the serious ones still come here.”

Skylar glanced across the land.

“That’s the difference,” she said.

“Rooted work.”

Raven simply nodded.

🌄Echo Canyon is at its best when everyone starts drifting in.

A friend stops by. Someone pulls up a chair. Lunch stretches longer than planned.

Pull up a chair and join Raven, Val, Riley, Ben, and Skylar.

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Alone in Sydney, Quinn finally hears from Robbie. The relief she feels arrives faster than the questions she isn’t ready to ask

Chapter 6 - Mirage of Trust

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Australia

Quinn was back in the cottage, unsure if she could stay there.

She turned on all of the lights, making the rooms feel less empty. A suitcase lay on the bed, half unpacked. She didn’t remember pulling it out. Had Robbie done that, thinking Quinn would go with her to Japan?

She hadn’t even asked.

In the kitchen, Quinn pulled an open bottle of wine from the refrigerator. White, not red, which she preferred. She set it in the sink, then changed her mind, uncorked it, and poured it down the drain.

Instead, she took out a tall glass and filled it with ice. A lime sat in the fruit bowl on the counter. She cut it into generous slices. The sharp fragrance hit her nose, waking her from the fog she’d been moving through. She reached up to the high shelf and pulled down a bottle of Hendrick’s gin. For a second she paused.

She realized she was tall enough to reach it. Robbie always had to ask her to get things down. Quinn filled the glass halfway, dropped in a slice of lime, and carried it out onto the lanai.

She stepped back inside long enough to switch off the light so she could see the harbor better. The city opened in front of her. Lights along the water. Boats moving slowly through the dark. The silence felt unfinished, as though the argument was still sitting somewhere in the cottage waiting for them to return.

Quinn had just settled into the chair when her comm chirped.

She glanced at her watch.

A message from Robbie.

The first she had heard from her.

I hate that we ended our vacation like that. I was overwhelmed. I’m sorry if you feel hurt. I think we both got carried away.

Quinn felt the first release of the tension she’d been holding since morning. She took a long swallow of gin and felt her shoulders drop.

Maybe she should reply.

She stood and went back inside to retrieve her comm from the bedroom, trying to decide what she would even say. Did she forgive her? Did she understand? Had Robbie even explained why she needed to leave so suddenly?

The comm rang in her hand. Robbie was on the VID.

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Come inside

Chapter 5 - Mirage of Trust

Australia Flashback - Quinn, Part 1

The restaurant was louder than usual that night.

Robbie barely touched her food.

“You’re quiet,” Quinn said.

“Just tired.” But Robbie’s eyes kept drifting to the comm on the table.

The next morning, Robbie slipped out of bed early.

“I’m going for a run,” she said. “I’ll grab breakfast for us on the way back.”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Robbie handed her a mug of coffee. “Stay in bed and relax. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Quinn didn’t argue. Maybe a little alone time would be good.

After Robbie left, Quinn took a quick shower and poured herself another mug of coffee. She grabbed a banana from the kitchen and stepped out onto the porch. She was looking forward to today. They had no special plans, but Quinn hoped they could explore another area of the city. Maybe The Rocks. The market would be open on the weekend, and Quinn had read about the different vendors. There were loads of restaurants, shops and galleries there too. She smiled when she thought about some shopping R&R.

Quinn glanced at the clock, surprised to see that almost two hours had passed.

Well, it’s Sunday. Maybe the café was crowded.

Another forty-five minutes passed.

Now Quinn was uneasy. She tried calling Robbie. The VID call went straight to messages.

Her stomach tightened. What if something happened to her? No one even knows where we’re staying.

Quinn began pacing the small cottage, her mind running through possibilities. Robbie could have run into someone she knew. Maybe she lost track of time.

Or maybe a car hit her. People drove on the wrong side of the road here. She kept pacing, peering out the window and opening the door to see if she was coming down the street.

At noon, four hours after Robbie had left, the door opened. Robbie strolled in as if she had only stepped out for a walk. Quinn ran to her and grabbed her, tears already spilling down her face.

“Where have you been? I was ready to call emergency services to see if there had been an accident.”

Robbie pushed Quinn gently away and held up her comm.

“I messaged you two hours ago.” Quinn’s head jerked up, searching Robbie’s eyes. For some sign. “I told you I was on a call with work.”

Quinn broke her gaze and searched her comm, thumbing from screen to screen. No message. She checked deleted messages. Checked spam. Nothing. There was no reason why she would have missed it.

“I never got it,” she said carefully. “Wait. It’s the weekend. A call from work? You’re on vacation in another country.” Quinn’s emotions started bubbling over again.

Robbie shrugged. “Well, I sent it.”

The certainty in Robbie’s voice made Quinn start to doubt herself. She stared at her phone. Had she deleted it somehow in her frenzy? Was she going crazy? Her heart sank. She never missed details such as this. Her training wouldn’t tolerate it.

She looked at Robbie and realized she was done with the conversation. Drained, she sat down on a kitchen chair and looked at Robbie.

Robbie opened the refrigerator and began searching for something to eat.

“There’s a problem with the resort,” she said casually. “Something about a guest identity issue. I’m going to have to go back early.”

“Work?” Quinn stared at her, her face reddened. “Now? Why?”

Robbie didn’t answer. She took a container from the refrigerator and began eating.

“Did you eat?” she asked.

Quinn stood so suddenly the kitchen chair nearly tipped.

“Did I eat?” Quinn glared at her. “I’ve been climbing the walls for four hours thinking you were dead.”

Robbie was already walking toward the bedroom.

“And what are you doing now?” Quinn asked.

“What does it look like? I’m packing. They sent me a ticket to fly to Japan tonight.”

Quinn stood frozen in the doorway.

Robbie noticed her moving toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” Robbie asked, her voice soft now. Almost innocent.

“I’m going out,” Quinn said. “Anywhere to get away from you.”

She grabbed her bag and comm, slammed the door behind her, and ordered a car.

Quinn stared out the window as the cottage disappeared behind them.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

She hesitated.

“Sydney Harbor.”

She had no plan.

She just knew she couldn’t go back.

When she stepped off the ferry dock, she heard someone call her name.

“Quinn?”

She turned.

Liz and Connie were sitting at a small table overlooking the water, glasses of wine already in their hands.

“Well, look at that,” Liz said. “You made it after all.”

“Where’s Robbie?” Connie asked.

Quinn shrugged.

“Work emergency. Japan.”

Liz and Connie exchanged a glance but didn’t press.

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Chapter 4 - Mirage of Trust

Earlier that year

Quinn pulled up the ticket Robbie had sent her.

The cheapest fare.

Three flights to Sydney. Thirty-two hours door to door. Premium coach, not first.

That’s not going to work. Not with her long legs.

She logged into the system she had used for thirty years with Homeland Security. Her tenure gave her lifetime upgrades to first class. The familiar Global Aircraft Services screen appeared.

Within minutes, she had rebooked.

Sabáka to Honolulu, where she could shower, stretch her legs, and get a proper meal in the lounge. Then on to Sydney. Even with the layover, it cut the travel time almost in half.

She glanced at the clock.

Four hours until departure.

She’d better move.

Quinn didn’t tell Robbie she had changed the ticket and would be arriving early.

On the plane, a glass of sparkling wine chilled her hand as she looked out the window. The desert below stretched endlessly and pale beneath the wing.

Life had seemed so different just a week ago. Simpler. Friends pitching in to help Raven prepare for the Centennial.

I’m so sorry I missed that.

Just today. Robbie couldn’t wait one more day.

Instead, she had sent Quinn two terrible itineraries and told her to pick one.

Am I looking forward to seeing her?

Robbie had promised a real vacation.

If that’s true, then maybe.

But trust was harder than it used to be.

Quinn studied the directions Robbie had sent for the cottage. Thirty minutes outside Sydney. Not on the harbor.

She says it’s near a ferry stop. Maybe that will be fine. And not a hotel. A rental with a kitchen. I wonder who’s cooking on this “vacation.”

Before drifting off to sleep, Quinn made a quiet mental adjustment.

I’d better change my tune before I see Robbie.

Hope for the best.

The landing in Sydney was smooth. The sun was dropping toward the harbor, turning the water copper and gold.

Quinn ordered an Uber.

Since she had not told Robbie she was arriving early, she did not expect to see her at the airport.

From the car, she sent a quick VID message.

Hi! Guess what. I got in early, and I’m on my way to the cottage. See you soon.

A few minutes later, her comm pinged.

I wasn’t expecting you yet. I’m in a meeting. I’ll see you at the cottage in a couple of hours. I’ve messaged the agent to let you in. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Love you.

A meeting?

Who has a meeting in Australia when they’re supposed to be on vacation?

The story continues for Story Insiders. Stay with the story.

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By the fire pit, Quinn tells enough of the truth to sound honest. And hides enough to keep the shame alive.

Chapter 3 - Mirage of Trust

She had told Riley everything was fine.

It wasn’t.

A drone crossing the canyon valley wasn’t fine either. It was a large one, probably delivering groceries to someone in the lower flatlands. Drones weren’t supposed to deliver anything to the residents of Echo Canyon. She’d make sure she told Riley.

This was the first morning she had been up before Riley. Quinn stood on her veranda, coffee cooling in her hand, the early sun painting streaks of gold across the desert floor. She continued scanning the canyon sky. When she was satisfied that everything was quiet again, she relaxed back into her chair. Holding the mug between both hands, she ran her fingers slowly around the rim, lost in thought.

I’m not fine.

Quinn was already on her second cup of coffee when she heard her friend moving inside with the rhythm of someone who trusted mornings.

Quinn used to move like that, too. Certain and decisive. These days, she wasn’t so sure.

The truth was, she didn’t know why she kept rushing back to Robbie. Or maybe she did. But knowing wasn’t the same as admitting it.

Growing up as an Air Force brat, Quinn had always felt safe no matter where they lived. She spent as much time outside as possible, running through grassy fields and jumping from rock to rock in streambeds, always moving, always independent.

She loved the flowers in Hawaii when her mother was stationed there. Even in Germany, the summers were short but slow and comfortable.

Her favorite memory, though, was in southern Arizona. What was she? Maybe five or six?

Her father warned her not to waste her allowance on flowers. The intense sun would kill them. But Quinn’s fascination with plants had started early. She begged her parents for a small place to grow something, anything. They compromised with window boxes on the stoop.

She planted marigolds from seed and saved her allowance for geraniums. When the heat grew too intense, she convinced her father to borrow a wagon from the base so she could cart the planters to the shade of a mesquite tree. Her mother gave her a bucket to carry water to them.

She cried when they had to move again. She had named every flower.

Years later, that same independence carried her into a career that moved her across the world. It was during one of those assignments in Hawaii that she met Robbie.

Quinn met Robbie more than twenty years ago while stationed in Hawaii. From their first conversation, something clicked, like a door opening neither of them knew existed.

They spent evenings going out to dinner and exploring new places. Long conversations often turned into friendly debates as they stretched each other’s thinking and deepened their understanding of one another. That was one of the things Quinn liked most about Robbie. She wasn’t afraid to express her opinion. She did it directly, instead of flirting the way so many women Quinn dated had.

Within months, Robbie invited Quinn to move in with her at the elegant Big Island home.

Barefoot and sun-warmed, the women dreamed of a future that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead.

In the early days of their relationship, they raced from the house to the beach, challenging each other to be the first into the water. When they surfaced, they fell into each other’s arms, laughing.

“I won,” Robbie shouted above the crashing waves.

“No, I did. By an arm’s length.” Quinn raised her long arms in the air to prove her point.

But five years later, life intervened.

Quinn was offered a critical post in Vermont. She had only a month to relocate. At the same time, Robbie was being transferred to Japan to oversee a major resort development, one of the few women leading projects of that scale. It was a prestigious move for her.

Their timelines split like tectonic plates.

They tried to imagine making a long-distance relationship work, but the reality was sharp and unforgiving. With aching hearts, they parted.

That day had been horrific.

Robbie kept pleading with Quinn to stay. But with tears streaming down her face, Quinn shook her head.

“I don’t want to leave you. But I have to.”

Quinn had always been the practical one. Both careers demanded everything. As painful as it was, she boarded the plane and forced herself not to look back.

Years passed, and Quinn rose steadily through the ranks. Life became busy and complicated. Their paths diverged, yet the memory of that time together never fully faded.

At first, they VID-called often, the conversations usually ending with one of them in tears.

Eventually, Quinn decided she could no longer live inside that hope. There was no future for them together.

Hating that she had to be the one to say it aloud, she finally told Robbie.

“What are you saying?” Robbie shouted through her tears. “You don’t love me anymore? You probably never loved me. If you did, you never would have left.”

Quinn tried to explain, but Robbie couldn’t hear her through the tears. There was a crash. Robbie must have thrown the comm. The last thing Quinn heard was a scream before the line went dead.

Movement pulled Quinn out of her thoughts as Riley stepped onto the veranda.

“Well, look at this,” Riley said. “I can’t believe you’re up before me. What’s it been, five days now?”

She gave Quinn a friendly punch on the arm.

“I just wanted to say how glad I am you’re here. Do you have any ideas about what you’d like to do today?”

“I was just thinking about the past.”

Riley chuckled. “Well, that could be a long story, considering your advanced years.”

Quinn shot her a sideways glance. “Hey. I’m only a couple of years older than you.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Riley didn’t press further. Quinn had spent thirty years protecting secrets. She would talk when she was ready.

“So,” Riley asked gently, “what’s on your mind?”

“Remember when you came to my retirement party in Vermont, and I told you I was going back to Robbie? You were pretty mad at me.”

“You mean the girlfriend who convinced you to retire early?” Riley said. “Yes. I questioned the rush. I barely knew her, and you rarely talked about her. Sorry, but you shut me down with one look.”

“I know,” Quinn said quietly. “And I’m the one who should apologize. Looking back now, I think the doubts were already there. I just refused to listen.”

“You tried to tell me,” Quinn said quietly. “At my retirement party. You said I was rushing.”

Riley started to speak, but Quinn lifted her hand.

“You were right. I gave up thirty years of work, walked away from everything I’d built, because Robbie said she wanted me to.”

She looked down at her coffee.

“I’m that woman. The one who abandons her whole life for someone who…” She couldn’t finish.

Riley reached across and took her hand.

“You’re not ‘that woman,” she said firmly. “You’re the woman who had the guts to leave when it wasn’t working. That’s different.”

Quinn wanted to believe her.

“Years back, when Robbie and I were first together in Hawaii, everything felt idyllic. We explored the island, built a home together, and imagined what our lives might become.”

“When the job opportunities came up, we both knew what we had to do. Going our separate ways was the only real option.”

Riley studied her friend carefully.

“When you visited Echo Canyon last summer,” she said softly, “I felt like you were saying all the right things. You admired the canyon. My house. Even my life here. But something in your eyes didn’t match your words.”

“I know,” Quinn admitted. “And honestly, I’m glad you didn’t say anything then. I wasn’t ready to face the possibility that things with Robbie might already be over.”

Riley waited.

“So,” Quinn said quietly, “I think I’m ready to tell you what happened. Can we get some more coffee and sit out here? I need some open air for this.”

They settled back into their chairs with fresh coffee. Riley quickly put together a small plate of croissants, cheese, and fruit.

Quinn took a deep breath.

“First, I need to be honest with you,” she said. “When I called you from Hawaii and asked you to pick me up in Sabáka, I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

Riley stiffened.

“I’m glad you called,” she said carefully. “But what did you lie about?”

“I left Australia early and went back to Hawaii.”

Seeing Riley’s expression darken, Quinn lifted her hand.

“I know. Just… let me start from the beginning.”

“Okay,” Riley said, shifting slightly.

“After my retirement party, I flew to Tokyo to meet Robbie.”

Riley nodded but said nothing.

“I arrived on a Thursday and spent a day recovering from the long flights. That weekend, we explored the area around Robbie’s apartment and talked about traveling around Japan whenever she could get away from work.

“We talked about everything. The years apart. How much we had both changed. How we would have to get to know each other again.”

“It was beautiful,” Quinn said quietly.

“We explored the city and took a trip into the countryside. At one point, we got lost and stopped to ask a woman for directions. She didn’t speak English, and we didn’t speak Japanese.”

“She showed us her geo-map, but of course, that didn’t help. Eventually, she brought out her daughter, who spoke excellent English. The daughter launched a drone and told us to follow it back to the main road.”

Riley laughed.

“You never told me that story.”

“Don’t give Channing any ideas,” Quinn said with a faint smile. “She’ll be running drone-led canyon tours.”

They both laughed briefly.

Then Quinn’s expression shifted.

“Within a few weeks, Robbie’s job began taking more and more of her time. Suddenly, she had meetings on days we had planned to do things together. I started going out on my own.

“Now you know me,” Quinn continued. “I can travel independently.”

She stared into her coffee.

“But after a while it started to feel different.”

“Different how?” Riley asked.

“It felt like I had become a burden,” Quinn said quietly. “Like Robbie didn’t want me there.”

Riley stayed silent.

“There were nights when Robbie called to say I shouldn’t wait up. I’d sit in the apartment looking out over Tokyo while dinner grew cold on the table. Eventually, I would throw it away and go to bed.

“The next morning Robbie acted as if nothing had happened.”

“You both discussed expectations, though?”

“Yes. She promised she would make time. She said the project was just intense at the beginning.”

Quinn shook her head.

“One night, I waited all night. Robbie never came home.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Tokyo was supposed to be the easy part,” Quinn said.

She could still smell the sea air from the bay that first morning. Robbie laughing. The sound of gulls fighting over scraps.

Quinn blinked and returned to Riley’s veranda.

“That’s when things started shifting,” she said. “Eventually, I told Robbie I was going back to Hawaii.”

“And?” Riley asked.

“She barely reacted.”

“When I arrived in Hawaii, it was hard. I thought maybe I just needed time to settle again.”

“I tried to go back to my routines. I worked in the garden. You remember the place. The bougainvillea had taken over the back wall.”

Riley smiled faintly.

“I started hiking again, too. I thought the trails might clear my head.”

She paused. “I even began fixing things around the house. The lanai door had been sticking for months.”

Riley waited.

Quinn slowly shook her head.

“But everything felt hollow.”

“It was like the house had emptied out while I was gone. Same walls. Same view. But none of it felt like my life anymore.”

“Where was Robbie?” Riley asked quietly.

“Tokyo.”

“And you talked?”

“Not really.”

Quinn looked down at her hands.

“For thirty years, I protected identities. Now I’m not sure what my own looks like without my badge.”

“I was sitting in a beautiful house in Hawaii,” she continued, “and I had never felt more alone.”

Riley reached across the space separating them and squeezed her hand.

“That’s when I booked the flight to Sabáka.”

“I wanted to come back to Echo Canyon. I knew you would be here.”

“I took the first available flight. I even spent the night at the airport because I didn’t want to stay where I wasn’t wanted.”

Riley squeezed her hand again.

“I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

She paused.

“Quinn… how can I help?”

Quinn shrugged.

“I don’t even know yet. It just feels good to be here. To have space to figure things out.”

Riley nodded. “And you can stay here as long as you need.”

Quinn relaxed slightly.

“I’m really unsure about Robbie and the house in Hawaii. I don’t even know who I am right now or what I’m going to do next.”

She gave a small shrug.

“But this isn’t like me. I didn’t create this situation, so I’ll figure out how to move forward.”

Her voice hardened slightly.

“I’ve sent text after text over the past few weeks and haven’t received a single answer.”

She exhaled sharply.

“That’s not how you treat someone you supposedly love.”

Riley remained quiet.

“Part of me wants to call Joe, the house manager in Hawaii, and have him ship the few things I left there. But that feels like running away.”

“And I don’t run.”

Riley nodded slowly.

“You deserve so much better, Quinn. Does Robbie have any idea you might not be going back?”

Quinn went still.

“Well… I still haven’t told you the other half of the story.”

She looked out across the canyon.

Then she turned back to Riley.

“Because Robbie didn’t just stop answering me.”

Riley frowned.

Quinn stood suddenly.

“She abandoned me in Australia.”

Riley blinked.

“Quinn… what in the world happened?”

Since you’ve made it this far, you’re already at the front door.

Story Insiders sit with the women of Echo Canyon on the veranda, as the story continues.

You Don’t Have to Leave

“She called. Then the line went dead.”

Read it Here

Quinn returns to Echo Canyon on a red-eye, asking Riley for a ride from the airport with very little explanation.

Something has shifted in her life. She doesn’t say what it is. Riley doesn’t ask. The canyon welcomes her back.

But the silence between them says more than either of them is ready to admit.

Chapter 2 Mirage of Trust

She didn’t want to VID-call. They would see the worry on her face. The garden circle had always been Quinn’s backup family, and Riley sent a quick message instead

Hi gang. Quinn came in yesterday. She’s exhausted. Once she’s rested I’m sure she’ll want to see everyone.

The responses arrived almost immediately.

Is everything okay? I can make her some restorative tea, Val wrote.

Bring her by the stables when she’s ready. A quiet ride might help, Raven added.

Skylar’s message came next. I’ll be back by the end of the week. Jim’s in town if you need anything.

Riley thanked them and said she would be in touch soon.

Putting her comm down, she started her routine with her potted plants. It had been a hot summer, with rain only coming this past week. Many of her annual flowers were barely hanging on, but the kumquat tree and Mexican honeysuckle were doing well. The giant pine trees on the west side of her property provided shade for the pots by four o’clock, helping them escape the sun’s intensity as it built through the morning.

Riley carefully inspected her garden, noting how her summer snaps had transformed into tall, vibrant beauties since the recent rain. The vinca were doing well too.

Her hands slowed in the pot. Ben would have noticed this right away. She wouldn’t have met so many people so easily, and she certainly wouldn’t have her garden. Ben had an easy way of showing people the path by introducing them to others. He could teach everything himself, but he didn’t.

As she thought about Ben, Riley lifted her head and peered through the back doors, as if expecting something. Her expression shifted to sadness as she remembered what Quinn had looked like at the airport, and when she had gone into the bedroom to rest.

Riley realized her hands were still hovering over the pot, clutching the pruners. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the plant and delicately pruned the longest branches of the vinca deep inside the foliage, knowing this would encourage new growth and result in a fuller, more robust plant. As she worked, she noticed the first signs of fresh shoots emerging from within, a reward for attentive care.

Satisfied, Riley gathered the best cuttings of summer snaps and vinca blooms to arrange in a vase. Intrigued, she added a few branches of Mexican honeysuckle, curious to see how they would fare in water. With a sense of contentment, she went back inside to brew a pot of coffee, hopeful that Quinn would wake soon and feel somewhat refreshed.

I’ve never seen Quinn like this. Her shoulders rounded, diminishing her height by inches. So reluctant to say anything. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, she always does. But God, I hope she’s okay.

Riley’s thoughts broke off at the sound of the guest room door opening.

“Hi! You’re up! Did you have a good rest? I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

“That’s nice, Riley. It smells good. Don’t get up. I can get it.”

Quinn opened the kitchen cabinet door and saw her favorite mug. Reaching for it, she added, “Yes, I’m starting to feel better. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. Can I top off your coffee? Maybe I’ll have one of these bananas.”

“Yes, please help yourself.” Riley held up her cup for a refill. How long has it been since you slept a full night?”

Quinn shrugged, not tasting her coffee. “Days without sleep. Weeks with poor sleep.”

Quinn pulled the comm from her pocket, glanced at it, and set it face down on the counter.

She hated that she wanted it to light up.

She hated that it didn’t.

Riley noticed but chose to slide past it.

“Well, now that you’re here, I’m sure you’ll sleep like a baby. I messaged the women to let them know you arrived.”

Quinn looked up, startled.

“You didn’t say anything, did you?”

Riley lifted her hand in reassurance. “No. I just said you came in and were really tired. I told them we’d be in touch when you’re ready to see everyone. They all sent their best.”

Quinn seemed satisfied and turned toward the veranda, leaving her mug on the counter.

The next morning started quietly.

Quinn did not come into the kitchen until nine. She poured herself some coffee and took a long drink, looking out toward the veranda. Riley sat in a deck chair, staring into the canyon. She didn’t seem to notice Quinn behind her.

“Good morning.”

Riley shifted in her chair and looked up. A quick smile replaced the blank expression on her face.

“Hi! Sorry. I didn’t hear you come out. I guess I was lost in thought. Did you get some sleep?”

“Yes. In fits and starts. My best sleep was actually from seven until now.”

“Well, you look a shade better. I’ve been up since six. You know me. Up with the sun. I baked some blueberry muffins, and there are still bananas if you’re ready for something to eat. It’s such a lovely morning here on the veranda, I decided to enjoy it.”

“Thanks, but not yet. I want to see your garden. Did you cut those flowers this morning?”

“Not today. Yesterday I was cutting flowers back, and there was no need to put them all into the compost. We’re fortunate the heat has pulled back. We’re finally out of the hundreds.”

“I didn’t even notice, Riley.”

Quinn looked down at her coffee. She used to notice everything. It had been her job. Now the days slipped past like they belonged to someone else.

Riley could see she was holding back tears.

Quinn stood and moved to the top of the stairs, hesitating as if she wasn’t sure she could go down. Riley moved over next to Quinn and took her hand, leading her down the veranda steps into the morning light, shadows stretching across the garden.

She’d spent the summer creating small naturalized areas. Pots tucked between boulders and ground plantings, succulents catching the long eastern sun.

They wandered through the garden and Quinn paused beside a gray vase filled with aloe.

“I love what you’ve done,” she said quietly. “It feels… settled.”

Riley caught the weight in that word.

“Thanks Quinn. It’s a labor of love. Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get some food.”

Riley leaned toward Quinn, Riley stayed close as they climbed the steps.

They took their sandwiches into the great room and snuggled amidst the pillows on the couch. Quinn’s message alert sounded and she froze, then glanced at her watch like time could protect her. She looked up with tears in her eyes.

Cautiously, Riley asked, “Are you up to telling me what’s happening?”

The words came fast, tangled with tears. “How did I end up here? I’m supposed to be living the life, fully retired and traveling the world with my soulmate.

“Now I’m lost, alone, and devastated.”

Riley quickly set her plate down, moved closer, and drew Quinn in while she sobbed. She rubbed her back and whispered slow, soothing words until Quinn’s heaving stopped and she could push back into the sofa. Riley offered the box of tissues she always kept handy.

“I’m sorry, Riley. I thought I was done crying.”

“Oh, Quinn. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re here and not alone. You know I’m always here for you. I would have come anywhere if I knew what you were going through.”

“I know, Riley. And I’m sorry I’m keeping you in the dark. I just can’t get into it yet.” Feeling a little guilty, Quinn gave Riley’s hand a squeeze. “Soon, I promise.”

After lunch, Quinn went back to her room. Riley was surprised that her usually energetic friend was taking another rest, but whatever had happened had taken its toll on her. She suspected Quinn was using the naps as an escape but hopefully it would work and restore Quinn to her normal self.

Riley puttered around the house, checking her auto-payments and online accounts, then emailing a few architecture clients about upcoming meetings. She wasn’t used to staying in so much, but there was no way she was going to leave Quinn alone now. She wished she could talk to Raven but she would not betray her trust. She was relieved when her friend came out several hours later.

“Hi! I’m glad you’re up.” Riley looked carefully at her friend to see signs of rejuvenation. She surged on. “Ben called while you were asleep and invited us over for happy hour. I said maybe you’d prefer he comes here, if you’re up for it.”

“I think I’d like that. I enjoy Ben. And I appreciate you letting me stay with you. How about I make something for his visit? We’ll sit outside?”

“Of course. I’ll call Ben and let him know to come over. Is an hour too soon? I had some more fresh blueberries, so I made a tart, and maybe we can get some cheese ready. I’m sure he’ll bring something over.”

Laughing slightly, Quinn rubbed her stomach. “You’re making me hungry again.”

“Well, I was just going to have a G&T, if you’d like one.”

Quinn sat at the breakfast bar, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t believe I slept again. I was out. Sure, the drink sounds refreshing. The tart smells really good.”

Riley made the drinks and brought them to the stools at the breakfast bar. The view through the back window stretched over the expansive backyard and the wooded area beyond. “I think we’re all set. Ben will be here shortly, so you woke up at the right time.”

Quinn shifted, wanting the conversation to stay on lighter topics, trying to distract herself. “What’s up with the gang? I haven’t been very reliable in staying in touch with our friends.”

Riley looked away for a moment. Not even me.

“They have been busy. Raven..” She glanced toward the back door. That’s got to be Ben knocking. He never knocks. Must be all proper for you. He’s just in time for the blueberry tart.”

Ben arrived with two cloth bags in hand. He set them on the counter, glanced at Riley, and at her subtle nod stepped toward Quinn with his arms out.

Quinn paused, not knowing if she was ready for a hug, even from someone who cared deeply. She took one step forward as Ben erased the distance between them and pulled her in tightly.

“Welcome back, Quinn. We’re glad you found your way home.”

Quinn slumped, and Riley was quick to shift the moment.

“Quinn, look what Ben brought. Loads of goodies. And Quinn, this one must be for you, the red Zinfandel you always ask for. What a spread we’re going to have.” She smiled. “For just the three of us.”

While Riley was displaying the food, Quinn and Ben had both turned toward her and, being the same height, draped an arm around each other’s shoulders. Quinn leaned gently against Ben, steadier now after his emotion-filled greeting.

They each grabbed what they could and settled on the veranda. Riley refreshed her and Quinn’s drinks and brought a fresh G&T out for Ben.

“I thought we could save the wine for the tart. They’ll complement each other well.”

The conversation stayed relaxed, local happenings, the garden tour Riley had attended, plans for shopping with Val and Skylar over the weekend.

Finishing her drink and setting the glass down, Quinn glanced at her watch before asking, “What happened to Whitman after he was ousted from the Centennial?”

Ben picked up the story first. “You heard that Eleanor, his wife and chair of the event, basically laid him out in front of the entire community, right?”

Quinn nodded, and Ben continued. “Well, if the land were the law, their divorce would have been final right then. Between that and the loss of community support for, well, anything, he’s gone, and good riddance.”

“That must be a relief for Eleanor. I can’t imagine living under the thumb of a person like him,” Quinn added, sinking further into her deck chair’s deep cushion.

Riley and Ben exchanged a glance, catching the potential meaning behind what Quinn had just said.

Riley added, “We’re all better without him.”

“Well, ladies, even though we haven’t opened the wine yet, I think I’m going to call it a night,” Ben said. “I’m going to the upper ranch tomorrow for the weekend. Donnie needs some help mending the fences, and I told him I’d come up. Maybe we can make a date with everyone at my house when I get back, if you’ll still be here, that is.”

Quinn looked away.

Catching herself and wanting to move away from Ben’s comment, she asked Riley, “What’s that structure out on the tree line? I hadn’t noticed that before.”

Riley glanced at Ben at Quinn’s rapid change of subject and quickly brightened. “Oh! I didn’t show you that. We, well, I mean Ben’s crew built a pagoda for al fresco dining and evening moon watching. It faces east so we have a great view, especially on full moon nights. Hey Ben, how about we check for the next full moon for happy hour? Depending on what time it rises,” she finished, chuckling.

Quinn leaned back in her chair as Riley spoke. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Quinn, why don’t you sit still while I walk Ben out to his gate. I’ll be right back.”

“As lovely as it is out here, Riley, I’ll start taking these things inside. I’m ready to call it a night too.”

Ben quickly grabbed the glasses and a tray. “Eh, we’ll make short work of this right now. Charlotte taught me better than this, to leave dishes on a table. Then you two won’t be left with the cleanup, just the leftovers,” he added, chuckling. “The best part of a get-together.”

Riley and Quinn made short work of the final cleanup. As Riley washed the last glass, looking out the window, she said softly, “Quinn, you know you don’t have to do this alone.”

Quinn opened her mouth as if to speak, then shook her head no. She turned quickly and ran to her room.

The last thing Riley heard was the creak of the old floorboard right outside the guest room door.

Then the door closed firmly.

Riley stood still in the quiet kitchen.

Quinn’s comm was still sitting on the counter.

Face down.

There are things Quinn hasn’t said yet.

And questions Riley is choosing not to ask.

If you feel that pull to stay a little longer,

to sit in these moments with them…

you don’t have to leave.

Stay Inside

Five women in their sixties and seventies standing at life’s crossroads, refusing to let their best years be behind them.

Step Inside

Mirage of Trust is Book 2 of the Women of the Canyon Series.

You can start here without reading Book 1, Whispers of Echo Canyon or find the beginning Chapters of Book 1 Here.

But if you want to read the entire story of the women from the beginning, you can find it on Amazon.

Or, become a Story Insider and stay inside Echo Canyon through all of the stories.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Quinn is home, but something has changed. Riley sees it and chooses to wait.

Chapter 2

Riley senses Quinn is hiding something and chooses not to push.

Chapter 4 Begins the Story Insider Experience

Free subscribers continue receiving chapter excerpts and weekly visits to Echo Canyon.

Story Insiders receive every complete chapter of Mirage of Trust as I write them, along with a permanent seat on the veranda with the women of the canyon.

If you’ve made it this far, you’re already inside.

You Don’t Have to Leave

Chapter 1

After throwing a few groceries into Quinn’s condo refrigerator, Riley headed north toward Sabáka airport. She had stocked the fridge automatically, as if Quinn would walk into her own kitchen later that morning. As if nothing were wrong.

Quinn had switched the vid off before she spoke.

“Riley. I’m coming in on the red-eye tomorrow morning. Could you pick me up?”

Her voice had been tight. Controlled. As though each word had to pass inspection before leaving her mouth.

Riley didn’t sleep much after that.

The sun rose to her right as she drove. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, even on the horizon. A normal desert morning. It always struck her when she left the canyon. The sharp contrast between the temperate climate in Echo Canyon and the barren stretch of road in the desert leading to Sabáka.

She tried to focus on the road, on the steady rhythm of tires against pavement, on anything other than the hesitation before Quinn had said goodbye.

She put on a podcast. Turned it off thirty seconds later.

Ben had told her not to fret.

“You’ll know soon enough.”

Riley didn’t want soon enough. She wanted now.

A message buzzed as she pulled into arrivals.

We landed early. I’ll meet you at the curb.

Riley eased into the first open space.

When Quinn stepped through the automatic doors, swiping her palm past the biometric reader, Riley felt something drop inside her.

Her friend looked smaller. Tensed. As if she were holding herself together from the inside.

Riley lifted the hatch, set the suitcase inside, and pulled Quinn into her arms.

“I’ve got you. Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

Quinn pressed her face briefly into Riley’s shoulder. Then she stepped away and slid into the passenger seat without speaking.

They drove in silence.

Halfway home, Riley glanced over.

Tears streamed down Quinn’s face. No sound. Just steady.

Riley reached across the console and rested her hand on Quinn’s forearm.

Quinn did not pull away.

The guilt sat heavily in her chest. Not for what had happened. For the silence. For not calling. For not telling Riley the truth.

She tried to steady herself. Tried to take something from the warmth of Riley’s hand. Something familiar. Something she could still trust.

They climbed toward Echo Canyon as the sun cleared the peaks. Wind nudged the SUV as they rounded the bend.

“That’s odd,” Riley said quietly.

“What is?” Quinn’s voice sounded thin.

“Clear sky and a push like that.”

Quinn looked at her. “Since when does land push back?”

Riley almost smiled. “Often. When we pay attention.”

They drove the rest of the way without speaking.

Instead of turning toward Quinn’s condo, Riley continued up the road.

Quinn noticed. “This isn’t my turn.”

“I made an executive decision,” Riley said. “The guest room’s ready. You always sleep better there. I’ll make something warm. We’ll decide the rest later.”

Quinn studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“You traveled light,” Riley said as she lifted the suitcase.

Another nod.

Inside the old house, a familiarity passed through Quinn. She was in her comfort zone. She desperately wanted to sit down on Riley’s comfortable couch and tell her everything. Quinn paused at the bedroom door.

“I think I’ll lie down,” she said. “See if I can find a human somewhere inside this body.”

Riley swallowed. “There’s water on the nightstand. And an apple.”

Quinn gave the faintest smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime.”

The door closed softly.

Riley stood in the hallway for a moment, listening. The house felt different. Even the refrigerator hum seemed louder.

She stepped outside.

The canyon was bright now. The wind moved through the mesquite. Not strong. Just present. It lifted a dry leaf and spun it once before dropping it.

Smiling, Riley pulled out her comm and typed two words.

She’s here.

Ben replied almost immediately.

Good.

Riley slipped the comm back into her pocket and looked across the valley.

Whatever had followed Quinn home was here now.

And Echo Canyon does not ignore what enters it.

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I’ve been quiet since December.

Not because I stopped writing. Because I stopped talking about it. I had good reason. I was preparing Whispers of Echo Canyon for release.

That took everything. And it’s only been 12 days since it started selling. I can’t immediately rev back up to the pace I held while editing Whispers. That kind of push isn’t sustainable.

Today I’m saying it clearly: I’m drafting Book 2.

Mirage of Trust is Quinn’s story. You met her in Whispers.

For thirty years she worked in Homeland Security. Identity protection. Border security. Espionage cases. Controlled. Precise. Unshakeable.

Until she wasn’t.

When I finished Whispers of Echo Canyon, I knew Quinn’s steadiness had a crack in it. She called Riley from Hawaii, after returning there from Australia, and asked to be picked up at the airport. The line went dead.

That was the moment the canyon stood still.

For the next six weeks, I’m focused. Drafting. Tightening. Locking in the first arc. No wandering into side projects. No marketing rabbit holes. Just writing.

Here’s how April will work.

Chapters 1–3, published weekly starting in April, will be fully free. Anyone can read them and settle into the story. Subscribers, followers, the casually curious.

Beginning with Chapter 4, the door closes. The rest moves inside Story Insiders, my paid subscribers.

Readers told me they want to hold my book in their hands, not skim past it. That’s what I’m building.

If you haven’t met these women yet, Whispers of Echo Canyon is where it begins. https://mybook.to/WhispersofEchoCanyon

For free subscribers: To come inside, see the private journals from these strong five women, hear bits about my writing process and read the chapters first, upgrade to Story Insiders today.

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