Page 71 of Valley Girls
Rilla swallowed. “Is Walker around? I’m Thea’s sister.”
The girl blinked and suddenly her face changed, warm and welcoming and smiling. “You’re Thea’s sister? Hey! Welcome to Yosemite.”
Rilla smiled, relieved as she came closer to the table. “Thank you.”
“I’ve seen you around. I didn’t know you were Thea’s sister.”
Rilla nodded. “Yeah, we’re half sisters.”
The girl nodded like she was thinkingclearly,but was trying to be polite.
Walker came from the direction of the road, back from a run and already sweating despite the cool morning air. He ran a hand through his hair and his eyes only met Rilla’s for a second.
Adrienne nodded hello.
Rilla waved hello and fought the urge to cringe. She didn’t belong here.
“West Virginia,” Walker said. “Have a seat.”
There was an empty chair beside him and Rilla sank into it, happy to be smaller, folded up and safe.
It was a different crowd, but the same circle in the dirt. A strange mixture of ranger, climber, and summer employee—they sat around a fire covered with a grate and a cast iron skillet and moved slowly as the sun crept through the trees.
“We almost ate your food,” a man said, picking up a plate. He wore a blue T-shirt and canvas pants, and his long white hair floated out from the bottom of his ball cap. He seemed much older than Walker—in that age where men’s ages become indecipherable beyond the modifierolder. He was attractive, or could be, if one squinted and tilted their head and imagined him cleaned up a bit and the wild man beard trimmed and put into regular clothes instead of whatever sweatpants and white socks with sandals thing he was wearing.
“Markalmost ate your food,” Walker said. “Want some coffee?”
Rilla accepted the plate burdened with little sausages, softly charred peppers, and onions—and a browned waffle—with a nervous smile.
“Who’s this?” a guy said, coming up. “One of Walker’s rope bunnies got invited to breakfast?”
Adrienne laughed and pressed her fingers to her mouth to keep from spilling out her food.
Rilla’s face burned.
“Nah, it’s Caroline’s gumby,” someone said.
Rilla smiled politely, as if she was in on the joke and knew why they were talking about Caroline. She took a bite of her waffle. It was delicious and crunchy and tasted faintly of golden wheat and fire, and she forgot to wonder if they knew what a rope bunnyactuallywas.
Walker handed her a blue speckled mug of steaming coffee and sank back into his chair. “Caroline should be here any minute. I won’t make you climb with me again,” he said with a wry smile. “She’s a million times better of a climber than you or I will ever be, even if we are reincarnated into better climbers forty more times.”
Rilla kept chewing, but her stomach twisted and her mouth immediately dried. She was going climbing with Caroline? The sleek,professional, amazing Caroline.
She stared at her plate, too panicked to eat.
“Speaking of Caroline, did she hear Celine Moreau is coming in July?” the white-haired guy said, leaning over his chair for the coffee. “Did you get some of this?” He offered the carafe to Rilla.
She nodded and lifted the mug still in her hand.
“Why July?” Adrienne said with a frown. “It’s maybe the worst time. So hot. So crowded.”
He shrugged. “I just heard it from a buddy.”
Walker leaned over. “Celine is a famous French climber.”
“As famous as a climber gets, anyway,” Adrienne said.
“She was on the cover ofNational Geographiclast year,” Walker explained.
