Kaneq had grown in the past years. The clapboard-fronted storefronts were painted bright colors, like pictures she’d seen of fjord-side towns in Scandinavia. The boardwalk that connected everything looked brand-new. Streetlamps stood like sentinels, planters full of geraniums and petunias hung from their iron arms. Off to her left was the General Store, expanded to twice its original size, with a new red door. The street boasted one shop after another: the Snackle Shop, the diner, the yarn shop, souvenir places, ice-cream stands, outfitters, guides, kayak rentals, and the new Malamute Saloon and Geneva Inn, which boasted a giant white rack of antlers above the door.
She remembered their first day here, with Mama in her new hiking boots and a frothy peasant blouse, saying, I’m a little suspicious of people who use dead animals in their decorating.
Leni couldn’t help smiling. Good Lord, they’d been unprepared.
Tourists mingled with locals （one still easily distinguishable from the other by clothing）。 Vehicles lined the street in front of the Malamute Saloon: a few ATVs, some dirt bikes, two pickup trucks, and a lime-green Pinto with a duct-taped fender.
Leni climbed into Large Marge’s old International Harvester. They drove past the General Store. A newly painted bridge （fishermen with lines in the water on either side） swept them over the crystal-clear river and deposited them on the gravel road that soon turned to dirt.
For the first half mile, there were new signs of civilization: A travel trailer was on blocks in the tall grass; beside it, a tractor was rusted through. A couple of new driveways. A mobile home. An old school bus parked near the ditch had no tires.
Leni noticed that Large Marge had a new sign at her place. It read KAYAK AND CANOE RENTALS HERE!
“I love exclamation marks,” Large Marge said.
Leni was going to say something, but then she saw the start of Walker land, where the arch welcomed guests to the adventure lodge and promised FISHING, KAYAKING, BEAR VIEWING, AND SIGHTSEEING FLIGHTS.
Large Marge eased up on the accelerator as they neared the driveway. She glanced at Leni. “You sure you’re ready to do this? We could wait.”
Leni heard the gentleness in Large Marge’s voice and knew that the woman was offering to give Leni time before she saw Matthew again. “I’m ready.”
They crossed beneath the Walker arch and rumbled along, the road evened out by gravel. To her left, eight new log cabins had been built among the trees, each one positioned to have a sweeping view of the bay. A twisting, handrailed trail led down to the beach.
Not much farther and they came to the Walker house, now Walker Lodge. Still a crown jewel; two stories of skinned logs, with a huge porch and windows that overlooked the bay and the mountains. There was no junk showing in the yard anymore; no rusting trucks or coils of wire or stacked pallets. Instead, there were wooden partitions here and there, freestanding walls to hide whatever was behind. Adirondack chairs populated the deck. The animal pens had been moved to the distant tree line.
Down at the dock, a float plane was tied up alongside three aluminum fishing boats. There were people walking along paths, fishing on the beach. Employees in brown uniforms and guests in color-coordinated rain gear and brand-new fleece vests. Leni got out of the truck, looked around.
MJ bolted out of the lodge, bounded across the deck, maneuvering around the chairs, and came at her, waving something in his hand.
Leni bent down and scooped him up, holding him so tightly he started to wiggle to get free. She didn’t realize until right then how afraid she’d been of losing him.
Tom Walker headed toward her. Beside him was a pretty, broad-shouldered Native woman with hip-length black hair that was going gray in a single wide streak. She wore a faded denim blouse tucked into khaki pants, with a knife sheathed at her belt and a pair of wire cutters sticking out of her breast pocket.
“Hey, Leni,” Mr. Walker said, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Atka.”
The woman held out her hand and smiled. “I have heard so much about you and your mother.”
Leni’s throat felt tight as she shook Atka’s rough hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you.” She looked at Mr. Walker. “Mama would be happy for you.” Leni’s voice cracked.
They fell silent after that.
MJ dropped to his knees in the grass, making his blue triceratops fight his red T. rex, with growling sound effects.
“I’d like to see him now,” Leni said. She knew instinctively that Mr. Walker was waiting for her to tell him she was ready. “Alone, I think. If that’s okay with you.”