Chapter 168: Chapter 168

"You're family, Marcus," Talon said, his voice turning warm and steady as he slowed the truck to turn down the Gables' long, snow-cleared driveway. "Mr. Gable and Martha have been asking us to bring you over for months. Just sit down, eat some food, and let them take care of you for a few hours." The Gables' homestead sat at the bottom of the south ridge, surrounded by towering white pines and old wooden barns that had stood for seventy years. The main farmhouse was built of thick fieldstone and dark timber, its wide front porch wrapped in glowing yellow holiday lights that cast a soft, welcoming light across the pristine snow. Smoke curled steadily from the massive stone chimney, carrying the unmistakable scent of burning hickory and roasting meat.

Before Talon even shifted the truck into park near the side porch, the heavy front door swung open and Mr. Gable stepped out onto the porch, wearing a red plaid shirt and heavy woolen trousers, waving a hand to usher us inside out of the biting wind. Behind him Martha was already pulling off her apron, her face lighting up with a radiant, grandmotherly warmth the second she saw us through the glass door.

"Get in here before you freeze!" Mr. Gable called out, his deep, gravelly voice cutting right through the cold air.

Talon killed the engine, and we all climbed out of the warm cab. Talon reached into the back to unclip Leo's carrier, lifting the entire seat easily in one hand while using his other arm to steady me as we walked up the salted wooden steps of the porch. Marcus followed right behind us, holding the covered glass dish like it was made of fragile crystal. The second we stepped inside the mudroom, the wall of heat and incredible smells hit us. The house smelled like slow-roasted beef, garlic, baked apples, and old cedar wood.

"Oh, bring that sweet baby in here!" Martha said , bustling forward in her floral sweater and soft slippers. She completely bypassed the rest of us, going straight for Leo's carrier as Talon set it down on the wide wooden bench near the door. Talon unzipped the fleece bunting, and Martha gently lifted Leo out, cradling his small, sleep-dazed body against her chest. Leo let out a tiny, lazy yawn, his dark eyes blinking open to look up at her before he gave her a big, toothless smile.

"Look at you, little man!" Martha cooed, her eyes crinkling with absolute affection as she held him close. "You've grown an inch since we saw you two weeks ago! Arthur, look at his hair!"

Mr. Gable walked over, setting a large, calloused hand gently on top of Leo's head. "He's getting heavy, Martha. Looks like Talon's feeding him right."

While Martha fussed over Leo, Mr. Gable turned to Marcus, who was still standing near the coat rack holding the warm baking dish.

"Marcus," Mr. Gable said, stepping up and clapping a heavy hand onto Marcus's shoulder. "Glad you finally made it down the hill, son. Hand that dish over to Martha before your arms fall off."

"Evening, Mr. Gable. Mrs. Gable," Marcus said politely, passing the casserole dish over to Martha with extreme care. "The temperature on the dish held right at one hundred and sixty degrees during transit." Martha let out a loud, delighted laugh, holding Leo comfortably in one arm while taking the dish with the other. "Oh, Marcus, you're a hoot! Operational temperature for sweet potatoes! Come on into the living room, all of you. Dinner's almost ready, but Arthur's got the fire roaring."

We kicked off our heavy boots and hung our coats on the hand-carved brass hooks lining the entry hall. The Gables' living room was the absolute definition of cozy. A massive stone fireplace took up the entire far wall, holding a crackling fire of oak logs that threw long amber light across the wide-plank hardwood floors. Deep, comfortable armchairs covered in warm plaid fabric were arranged around a thick braided rug, and a large dining table in the adjoining room was already set with mismatched china, heavy cloth napkins, and a flickering centerpiece candle.

Ben from the town hardware store was already sitting near the fire, holding a mug of hot cider. He stood up with a wide smile as we walked in.

"Talon! Kira!" Ben called out, coming over to shake Talon's hand. "Good to see you folks out of the cold."

"Good to see you, Ben," Talon said, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing toward Marcus. "You know Marcus, our head of property ops."

"Sure do," Ben grinned, nodding to Marcus. "Marcus came down to the store last week and bought out my entire stock of heavy-duty ice melt. Saving my inventory numbers for the month."

"It was a necessary preventative measure for the lower driveway incline," Marcus explained seriously, stepping up to shake Ben's hand.

Mr. Gable chuckled, walking over to a small wooden sideboard and pouring four glasses of spiced cider. He handed one to Talon, one to me, and walked over to hand the third straight to Marcus.

"Drink that, Marcus," Mr. Gable ordered gently, forcing Marcus to take the heavy glass. "And sit your butt down in that armchair right there. No perimeter checks, no inventory reports, and no monitoring the weather radio. You're off the clock." Marcus looked at the plush, comfortable armchair, then at the glass of cider in his hand, looking slightly out of his element. He looked over at Talon for confirmation. Talon took a sip of his cider, leaning his shoulder casually against the mantlepiece, a relaxed, easy smile on his face. "You heard the man, Marcus. Direct orders from the property owner. Sit down." Talon said.

Marcus let out a quiet breath, the tension finally draining out of his broad shoulders. "Yes, boss."

"Arthur," Mr. Gable corrected with a dry smile as he sat down in his own rocking chair across the hearth. "In this house, it's Arthur."

Marcus sat down in the heavy armchair, taking a slow sip of the warm cider. As the heat from the hearth washed over him and the easy, low conversation filled the room, the stiff, hyper-vigilant posture he had carried for years began to completely melt away.

Martha sat on the couch nearby, happily rocking Leo on her lap while she chatted with me about the winter garden prep and her favorite recipes for canned preserves.

"I left three jars of my stewed tomatoes on the hall table for you to take back up the hill, Kira," Martha said, smiling over at me as Leo grabbed playfully at the button on her sleeve. "They'll make a wonderful base for chili when the cold wind comes back through on Monday."

"Thank you, Martha," I said, leaning back against the couch cushions, feeling completely warm and settled. "We'll definitely use them."

Across the fire, Mr. Gable, Ben, and Talon were talking about the valley timber lines and the upcoming spring repair on the creek bridge down by the main road.