Footsteps thudded on the porch.
Krista glanced at the clock. Walt and Joe were still out by the lake. The knock that followed was brisk, familiar in a way that made her stomach drop.
The door opened and for a second, the whole room seemed to shift, or maybe it was more like the temperature dropped two degrees just from who had entered.
Her mother stepped in first, dressed as if she’d been invited to a luncheon with her tailored slacks and pressed blouse instead of driving straight through for hours. Her hair was pinned back in a smooth, no-nonsense twist that didn’t allow for fly-aways or excuses. She smelled faintly of expensive perfume and air-conditioned car.
Behind her came Krista’s father in a charcoal business suit that looked as if it had never met a wrinkle. His tie was perfectly knotted, his shoes polished, his expression reserved in that careful way that suggested he’d already decided what he was going to say and when. He paused just long enough to take in the room, his gaze sweeping from the table to the couch to Krista, calm and assessing.
They didn’t look like they belonged in Maple Falls.
They looked like they belonged in a hotel lobby where people lowered their voices without being asked.
“Hey, Mom,” Robyn said, sitting up straighter. “Dad.”
Krista’s heart stuttered. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too,” her mom said, but there was an edge under the words. “We drove straight through. Your father hit every red light between Chicago and here.”
Her dad gave a weak smile. “Traffic was fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Krista asked, wiping her palms on her shorts.
“We needed to talk,” her mom said. “In person.”
Krista’s gaze flicked automatically to Robyn, who suddenly found the pattern on her mug very interesting.
Oh, no.
Robyn refused to make eye contact, giving away her guilt. Krista could only imagine how much her parents already knew.
Her mother’s eyes scanned the table. Krista watched her take in the brochures, her laptop, and a printed copy of the Hideaway listing. Heather reached out, picked up the listing, and read the headline.
“Charming lakeside café with established clientele and strong seasonal revenue,” she read aloud. “For sale.”
Krista’s mouth went dry.
Her mom’s gaze snapped up. “So it’s true.”
“Okay,” Krista said carefully. “Before you?—”
“When were you planning on telling us?” her mom demanded. “When the sign went up? When some stranger was handing out ‘Hot Honey Margaritas’ in your place?”
“Mom,” Robyn said quietly. “I told you?—”
“Yes,” her mom said, pinning her with a look. “You did. After we asked why your tenure plans suddenly involved ‘maybe’ and ‘we’ll see’ and ‘there’s this apartment above a bookshop in Maple Falls.’”
Krista stared at her sister. “You’re staying in Maple Falls?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure…I’m still figuring things out,” Robyn tried to explain. “I just wanted to take abriefacademic break.” She directed the word to her parents. “And one thing led to another, and I might stay here for a semester. It’s not a big deal. Please don’t make it one.”
Her dad lifted a placating hand. “We’re not here to attack you.”
Her mom snorted. “No, we’re here because you tipped us off to your sister’s mistake.” Her attention snapped back to Krista. “Why do you do this? Not tell us things until it’s too late to stop the fallout?”
The words hit Krista’s chest so sharply that it was as if her mother had a voodoo doll and a pin.
“Fallout?” Krista repeated. “I’m not detonating a bomb; I’m selling a business I can’t sustain. For Grandma. For Gramps. For their care.”
