But she didn’t say any of it. She never did.
They hadn’t been on a vacation in years. Hadn’t been on a date in nearly as long. He was already walking away, checking his watch, silently declaring that handling this situation was just another box to tick in a day full of needed checkmarks. Meanwhile her mother could be dead in a ditch.
Leanne lingered on the porch, breathing in the scent of summer and possibilities, trying to quell the pounding of her heart behind her ribs. She refused to indulge in bitter thoughts about her husband or terrifying thoughts of her mother. Not when she was about to embark on a cross-country road trip with her daughter. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Dean was right. This was an opportunity. Maybe it was her last real chance to close the growing gap between her andNora. And, they were going to find her mother in one piece. Resolute on those two things, she went to stand beside, but not really next to, her husband and the car.
The front door swung open, and Nora bounded out and down the porch steps, suitcase in hand, canvas backpack slung over a shoulder. She looked up at her parents, her smile flickering as she sensed the tension in the air.
Were they really that obvious?
Leanne slid toward her husband, slipping her arm through his and resting her head lightly on his shoulder. The gesture felt stiff and performative, like something from a magazine ad: “Perfect Family Sends Daughter Off in Style.”
“Do you have to do that out here?” Nora muttered, rolling her eyes and stuffing her suitcase into the trunk.
As she tossed her backpack onto the front seat, Dean stepped away from Leanne and held out his arms. “Come here, kiddo.”
Nora sank into the embrace automatically, the way she had since she was small. Her cheek pressed against his lapel, her eyes softening, the mask slipping ever so slightly. Leanne saw the trust there. The simplicity. For better or worse, Dean loved their daughter.
“Be safe,” Dean said over their daughter’s shoulder before letting go of Nora. “Call me as soon as you arrive at the first hotel. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do. I’ve got a full map in the glove box and a list of approved hotel stops. All organized.”
Leanne nodded. She was quietly grateful Dean had asked his secretary to pull everything together, because she just didn’t have it in her.
In a practiced move that came with nearly two decades of marriage, she reached up and smoothed a hand over Dean’s sharply tailored shoulder. His ever-present suit jacket was pressed to perfection, buttoned high, collar crisp, tie knotted with surgical precision. Dean worehis clothes like armor—always had.
What would happen if he loosened his tie? Would the man beneath all that structure unravel?
Then she glanced down at herself—nipped-in waist, pale linen dress, the familiar cool weight of pearls against her collarbone. She was no better. Buttoned-up in her own way. Contained.
Maybe this trip wasn’t just about finding her mother.
Maybe it was about finding herself.
Dean dangled the keys before her, the metal glinting in the early sun. “Remember to go easy on the clutch,” he said. “And if you want to put the top down, take a look at the manual—I highlighted the pages with pictures.”
Leanne nodded. “We probably won’t take the top down,” she replied, shaking her head with a rueful laugh.
The top of the car, she suspected, would stay just as tightly fastened as her belt. As buttoned-up as her marriage.
Nora tapped the roof of the Lincoln with her palm. “Don’t worry, Dad. I fully plan to make Mom drive with the top down all the way through the Midwest. I want to feel that sun on my skin. If I’m going to be trapped in a car, I’m coming back with a tan.”
Leanne laughed—her voice a little too high, a little too forced. She could already feel the arguments waiting to unfold like road maps across the plains. Nora had agreed to go on this trip with her, but Leanne knew what her daughter was giving up—one last summer with her friends.
Maybe Leanne needed to start making concessions now, in gratitude for her daughter’s sacrifice.
“I might be persuaded to let you put it down,” she said, smoothing her skirt with a small smile. “Once or twice.”
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I’ll believe that when I see it.” She climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door withpurpose.
Dean leaned in for a goodbye kiss. Leanne offered him a polite peck—brief, closed-mouth, practiced.
When was the last time they’d kissed like they meant it? Probably sometime around the Eisenhower administration. Or was it Truman? She couldn’t remember. Maybe not since Nora was conceived.
Dean stepped back with a smile that was more habit than heat. “Enjoy the trip. I hear Nora’s packedThe Godfatherfor the road.”
“Yes, I packed a book too,” Leanne said, mildly amused.
“I trust you’re packing something more…refined.”
Leanne turned her back to him, slipping into the driver’s seat. She didn’t bother answering. Let him believe she packedGood Housekeepingif it helped him sleep better at night.
