“He should at least be on Facebook or something. He could post pictures of each piece as he finishes it.”

Bea scrunched her lips to one side. It made sense, but she wasn’t sure if Mr. Van Dyken even knew what Facebook was.

Jeremy checked his phone for the time. “Well, I better get going.”

“What are you going out there for again?”

Harvest at the Duncan place had wrapped up a few days before, but Jeremy was still making trips down there to help out. When she’d said Montana agreed with him, she’d been right.

He shrugged. “I’m trying to get a feel for the people around here. What their needs are. How they run their businesses.” He winked. “It’s research.”

She made a face. “Okay, but what am I supposed to do here with my dad all day?”

They were currently hanging out in the living room because Dad was messing with the fridge again. He’d announced at breakfast that he was determined to get to the bottom of the problem if it was the last thing he did today. Bea planned to avoid the kitchen at all costs.

“You’ll be fine.” Jeremy stood and kissed the top of her head. “I won’t stay long.”

He pulled on a jacket, gloves, and boots. The temperature was only supposed to reach about twenty degrees.

“Don’t forget my dad’s making dinner tonight.”

“As if I could forget.” Jeremy gave her a half smile. Dad had been going on all week about how he was going to make them dinner. “I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

He gave her another wink and headed out the door. She pulled her feet up on the couch and groaned, the pumpkin cheesecake sitting like a boulder in her gut. It had been worth it, though. And if her mom had been here, she would’ve been right there eating it with her.

With the sound of Dad making demands of the refrigerator in the background, Bea tapped a button on her phone to wake it up. On her home screen was an app that allowed her to monitor her baby’s development and keep track of how many weeks left until her due date. Jeremy had downloaded it for her.

Her finger hovered over the icon. What did her baby look like at ten weeks old? Was it the size of a thumbprint? A fist? She looked down at her stomach. How could something so small feel so big?

She shook her head and brought up the internet instead. As she typed early-onset familial Alzheimer’s disease into a search engine, the haunted look on Grandma June’s face burned in her brain. She hoped and prayed Grandma’s tests would reveal nothing more than the nutritional deficiency Dad had mentioned. But she couldn’t resist the pull of what if?