Mitch inched down Second Street at the end of the day, his mind on his mother and his daughter instead of the road. As he sang the melancholy words of “Desperado” along with Clint Black, he couldn’t help but think of Marge, as well. He was convinced he was fine on his own. Didn’t need anyone else in his life after losing the only person who was everything.

But that was what the desperado thought, too, and old Clint didn’t seem to think that was going to turn out so well.

A flash of movement caught Mitch’s eye, and he slammed on the brakes. A deer darted in front of his truck, pausing on the side of the road to stare at him a moment before bounding out of sight. His heart pounded. Deer wandered through town a lot this time of year, snitching apples that had fallen to the ground and leaving scat in everyone’s backyards. He needed to pay more attention. That was too close.

On full alert now, he noticed a Suburban parked in front of his house. He eyed it as he pulled the truck into the alley. Frank. What was he doing here?

Dusk softened the edges of the mountain as Mitch walked around the outside of the house. After Caroline died, the distance from the carport to the front door had grown with the distance between him and the last time she’d been here waiting for him. But as he reached the door this time, it struck him that the distance had shortened the past few weeks, not lengthened. Was it because his eyes had moved somewhat toward the future instead of just the past?

Frank was in the living room, sitting on the couch with his fingers laced behind his head.

“Who let you in?” Mitch tried to put a growl in his voice, but Frank was unfazed.

“Bea and Jeremy went for a walk. None of us knew how late you’d be working.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“I could’ve.”

Mitch hung up his jacket and keys and kicked off his boots. “You eat yet?”

“No.” Frank let his arms down and moved his hands to his knees. “But Dorothy would kill me if I had dinner with you. She’s waiting for me.”

“Then you better say whatever you came here to say so you can get home to her.” Mitch wanted to add something about how Frank didn’t know how lucky he was to have someone to go home to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And he had a feeling Frank did know.

Frank indicated the empty space next to him on the couch, and Mitch huffed. He chose the recliner across from the couch instead.

“Dorothy said that Barbara said that Ralph and MacGregor were talking about you and Marge at the store this afternoon.”

Mitch groaned. “I knew it. It’s all Jeremy’s fault.”