Eye twitching, I inhaled deeply. Was it too much to ask to buy milk, cereal, and a secret chocolate stash in peace?
But I kept my mouth shut because even Ellie had brightened a little and was now drooling over the display of fresh-baked bread.
Because carbs were one language even snarky tweens could understand.
“It’s my mom’s birfday,” Julian explained, having found his favorite, raspberry sorbet, in the freezer section.
Emma beamed at him, then me. “Then you’ll need a cake.”
After spending way too much money on artisanal pretzels, the best-looking strawberries I’d ever seen, a small chocolate cake, and several pints of ice cream, we hauled it all to the car.
As we walked, the kids happily chattered, discussingwhich snacks they wanted to try first. I, on the other hand, scanned the area for threats.
Old habits died slowly.
But the sunny streets were filled with tourists taking photos and parents pushing strollers and wrangling young children. Maybe this place was as charming as advertised. Regardless, I wasn’t ready to let my guard down.
On the way back to the farm, I found myself getting lost in the rolling green hills and the stacks of hay. Even if the place was safe, it wasn’t quiet. I’d been waved at no less than half a dozen times before I turned off Main Street. Apparently everyone wanted to speak to me.
In the back seat, Julian hummed as he played with a Rubix cube, ignoring Maggie as she coached him on what to do next.
Beside me, Ellie stared out the window silently. It gutted me to think that she might also be scanning for threats. God, I wished she could just be a kid. That she could let loose once in a while. She was only twelve, yet she behaved like a battle-hardened general.
And it was my fault. Maybe if I’d been stronger, tougher, smarter, we could have avoided this.
“Mom, look!” Maggie rolled down her window and stuck her head out as far as her seat belt would let her.
Josh stood outside the big red barn, leaning over a piece of equipment while Wayne the horse dog sat beside him like a statue.
“Hello,” Maggie trilled, waving madly.
“The horse dog,” Julian shouted. “Let’s go see the horse dog.”
Ellie slunk down in the front seat. “My God, can we not embarrass ourselves for five minutes?”
I slowed the car, deliberately ignoring the way Josh’s T-shirt hugged his thick arms. Arms that had, if I wasn’t mistaken, a small bit of ink? Not that I cared.
Josh straightened and lifted a hand in greeting.
“Can we have a tour now?” Maggie hollered out the window. “I wanna see the animals.”
Josh’s stoic face cracked into the tiniest smile. Then he focused on me. “Sure. Give me fifteen minutes.”
Already annoyed by his presence, I huffed. But my kids were begging, and what would it hurt?
“Okay, fine,” I said, hitting the gas pedal.
As I pulled up to the cottage, I discovered an unfamiliar woman standing on the porch with several Tupperware containers in her arms.
My muscles tensed up. Though she looked harmless enough, in her late sixties or early seventies, with long white hair, I’d learned firsthand that looks could be deceiving. My ex-mother-in-law looked like Betty White, but the woman would slit my throat if given half the chance.
“Hello, dear,” the stranger said, her long hair swishing as she smiled brightly and waved. Her earrings were long enough to touch her shoulders, and she wore one of those long, flowy skirts that short girls like myself could never hope to pull off.
The kids, accustomed to my paranoia, stayed in the car as I approached her.
“I’m Gail. Emma at the grocer texted and mentioned that it’s your birthday, so I brought some treats from the Maplewood welcome wagon.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to be gracious even as unease threaded through me. We’d been at the grocery store less than thirty minutes ago. “I’m Celine LeBlanc.” I nodded at the car. “And these are my children.”
