Page 8 of Worth the Trip

I tried to remember the last time I’d sat on that porch without reaching for my phone.

Nothing came.

Nyla’s voice softened. “Go see Nana.”

I traced my thumb across the edge of the card. “How long?”

Her expression immediately brightened. “Thursday through Monday.”

“That’s four nights.”

“It’s an extended weekend.”

“It’s captivity.”

“At Nana’s house? Please.”

“Sunday evening.”

“Monday morning.”

“Sunday.”

“Nana will have breakfast ready Monday.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve discussed logistics with her.”

“Extensively.”

“That’s conspiracy.”

“That’s family.”

We stared at each other.

“Monday after breakfast,” I said.

“Accepted.”

“You negotiated that too fast.”

“Because that’s what I wanted.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m effective.”

A hint of anticipation moved through me before I could examine it too closely. Not excitement exactly. More like space opening where there hadn’t been any.

Thursday evening.

Nana’s porch.

Four nights without opening the shop.

The thought should’ve bothered me more than it did.

Nyla stood and retrieved my keys from her apron.