“Mom, it’s me. John. I brought you some pie.”
Mom looks away. “I know it’s you, John.”
I reach out a hand for her to take, and after a pause, she takes it and smiles. “Come on. Let’s go have some pie. And by the time we have a piece, the bathroom will be warm.”
“Thank you,” she says stiffly. “This woman wants to freeze me out all the time, and I’m sick of it.”
The two of us eat a slice of pie while Carmel putters around tidying and preparing for Mom’s shower. When we’re done, I help Mom wash our dishes—a task she still loves to do, even if she struggles with exactly how to make it happen.
“Mom, I want to stay longer, but I have to get back before the road’s flood.”
“You’re going already? You haven’t visited for months. The military keeps you too busy.”
I give her a hug without correcting her. “I’m on leave. I’ll be back tomorrow. Save some of that pie for me.” Mom moves closer to me, shooting a glance at Carmel, who’s standing nearby, ready to take over. “That woman might have eaten it by then. She eats all my food.”
I kiss Mom on the head. “I’ll bring another pie, then.”
Carmel follows me to the door. “She’s sundowning hard this evening. I’m glad you came to visit. We needed a diversion.”
“Make sure you take some pie home with you. You’re a gem, Carmel.”
“I know it, Mr. Fox.” She smiles. “Be careful out there. Sounds like it’s a bad one.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A storm chases behind me from the pizzeria, where I pick up a pizza, all the way to Ned’s. I’m kicking myself because I didn’task Ned what cottage Wren’s in, and he’s not answering his cell. Hopefully he’s back by the time I drive past his house, and I can run in and ask.
I keep thinking about Wren, and not just because looking at her does all kinds of things to my body that I haven’t felt in years. I opened her flip phone. Yeah, I looked. Maybe it was none of my business. No contacts, no saved recent phone calls. No texts. It’s like she just got the phone and hasn’t ever used it.
And the bruises on her face. Could Ava be right?
Emma and Danni are in Ned’s kitchen, sitting at the table with their laptops open. Presh, Emma’s dog, is lying on the floor. She wags her tail desultorily when I walk in.
“What kind of welcome is that?” I ask her, bending down to rub at her soft ears.
“She’s got storm anxiety,” Emma offers. “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“Poor girl. This is not a good place to have storm anxiety.”
“You’re telling me.” Emma snorts.
I snatch some hard candy from Ned’s candy bowl, slip the wrapper off one, and pop it in my mouth.
“You just stopping in to steal some of GrandNed’s candy?” Danni asks, hopping up and pouring me a mug of coffee. “Or did you want to take a seat and help us?”
“Wren forgot her phone in my truck. I was going to give it back to her. What cottage is she in?”
Danni studies me. “Wren was in your pickup?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Her bike tire split, nosy. I happened to be going past, and I gave her a ride.”
Danni and Emma exchange a look.
“What’s that look about?”
