In this warmhearted and witty debut, a mysterious gift spurs a widow to take a cross-country journey to find its sender and along the way, she rediscovers herself.

Evie Walters has lived most of her seventy-one years according to others’ expectations. But on the day of her husband’s funeral, she receives an anonymous delivery: an egret orchid. The same flower a Montana ranch hand once gave her decades ago, Novel Daniels, the boy who thought she could do anything.

So now, she does.

Defying her children’s plans to move her into a retirement home, Evie buys a camper van and leaves life in North Carolina abruptly behind. Accompanied by her devoted rescue dog, she heads west to find her cowboy, befriending an unlikely cast of characters along the way. Free-spirited young vanlifers, roadside waitresses, eccentric billionaires, and kindhearted widowers all show Evie a side of life worth living.

But Evie’s drive toward the future takes her back to the past, to memories of the family ranch and childhood dreams. Now, with a second chance as open as the road before her, there’s no telling who Evie Walters will become.

Excerpt

Evelyn Walters longed to stay under the soft covers, close her eyes, and wake to the predictable world she knew before cancer stole her husband. But the thought of her daughter Melony dragging her out of bed propelled Evelyn’s feet over the edge of the mattress and onto the floor. After taking a minute to steady herself, she headed toward the bathroom.

The warm washcloth she pressed to her face provided her a moment of calm. “Thank you for coming . . . Royce did enjoy golf . . . Yes, he had a reputation for being a bulldog in the courtroom . . . That’s right, married for fifty-two years.” Evie whispered into the mirror, practicing what she’d tell guests. She dragged a brush through her tangled hair, pinning back a few strands with a gold-and-pearl barrette—a birthday gift from Royce, though Evie couldn’t recall what year.

How will you do this without me, Evelyn?

Her husband’s voice lingered in her head.

A week before, the funeral staff had come to collect him. His body draped under a fresh white cloth with toes shooting up toward the ceiling like crocuses announcing the end of a long winter.

Evie took a deep breath and gripped the wooden banister as she went downstairs. The aroma of coffee welcomed her into the kitchen. Thank heavens for Shea. Ever since her granddaughter showed her how to use an app to start the fancy coffee machine, Evie felt a little more tech savvy.

On my way, pinged the text from Melony. Evie’s jaw tightened in a familiar way.

She gulped her coffee and placed the cup in the dishwasher. The glossy brochure for the Haven Senior Living Community sat on the counter. Evie jammed it into a drawer and headed back upstairs.

The black dress hung over the closet door. She slipped it on.

Pulling out a muted gray scarf, she twisted the lightweight wool around her neck as Shea had shown her. Evie recalled her granddaughter’s words.

“The knot is the old-lady way, Grammy.”

“But I am an old lady.”

“Only if you want to be.” Wise words from a sixteen-year-old.

She reached for her lipstick, carefully keeping her shaking hands from sliding the rose color off her lips.

Slipping her feet into her black pumps, Evie observed the widow looking back at her from the full-length mirror.

She was seventy-one, and her once-brown hair was mostly silver. The sharp facial features she had always prided herself on had softened. But while her friends were shrinking, Evie remained a staunch five foot nine. She claimed to have a strong back from riding horses, though she hadn’t ridden in fifty years.

The doorbell brought her back to the moment. Melony and her catering team had arrived. Mel gave them last-minute orders. “Main buffet in the dining room, all desserts in the kitchen, and everything gets a trivet or coaster.” Then she guided Evie out to the running car in the driveway and buckled her into her seat like a toddler.

“Hi, Grammy,” Shea said, turning from the passenger seat before Melony made it around to the driver’s side. “Mom’s in frenzy mode. Stick with me, and we’ll get through this.” She grabbed Evie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Evie squeezed it back.

At the funeral, Evie held tightly to her son’s arm as Royce’s body was lowered into the ground.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the pastor preached.

Evie sprinkled the moist soil over the coffin, the earthy scent lingering on her palms. She wrapped her heart around this moment before Wells led her away and she was back in the black Cadillac, looking out the window, the winter sunshine warming her sorrow-lined face.

Back at the house, everything for the reception had been meticulously set out on Royce’s grandmother’s china. Deviled eggs, crudités, roast beef, cakes, and a full bar.

“For a man whose motto was I’m not here to make friends, Dad sure had a lot of friends,” Wells joked.

Royce’s coworkers and associates were here mostly to network. A handful had been at the prestigious Charlotte law firm since Royce started it thirty years ago.

“He would have been pleased with the turnout.” Evie left her son’s side and wove through the living room. “Thank you for coming,” she said repeatedly. She approached two of Royce’s longtime partners, who had turned away from the crowd. They were huddled in a deep exchange. As Evelyn politely waited at a distance for them to disengage, she overheard their conversation.

“Evie’s spent fifty years letting Royce call all the shots. Good thing she has those kids to look after her.” The partner said it lightly but not kindly.

“Maybe she’ll surprise us.”

The partner tried to contain his laugh. “Don’t bet on it.”

Evie shrank back from their laughter and hid her hurt. She steadied herself on the dark dining room table. Her reflection gleamed even gloomier than the day the table had arrived from her mother-in-law.

An orchid on the buffet captured Evie’s attention. Its white blooms were so strikingly odd that it gave Evie a jolt. Bouquets of flowers had started arriving a week ago, so many that she had stashed several arrangements in the upstairs bathroom. But this rare flower nudged at her brain.

Evie tapped Melony on the arm.

“Who sent that orchid?”

Melony gave the flower a passing glance. “It arrived while we were at the funeral. I put the card on your nightstand so it wouldn’t get lost. Mom, some people are leaving. You’ll want to say goodbye.” Melony guided Evie away from the orchid.

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About the Author

Kathleen Fox is a wanderer, happiest when her van is packed, her dogs are snoring in the passenger seat, and the road ahead promises at least three good stories and one questionable decision. An explorer of back roads, small towns, and the wonderfully weird corners of the world, Kathleen grounds her fictional work in underrepresented rural voices and unexpected moments that only “van life” brings.

When she’s not chasing horizons or trading puns with her husband, Kathleen calls the coast of South Carolina home. She is the author of two children’s books, and this is her first novel.