Eight days later, the sun edged close to the horizon as she drove into a town called Everwood in Northern California. Her eyes felt dry and itchy, and an ache had set in between her shoulder blades from so much driving.

She was tired of trying to interpret random signs, and she was beginning to feel discouraged. All she wanted was a room she could rent for longer than a few nights. She needed a shower and her clothes were dirty, so she needed to find a Laundromat as well.

She wanted to order pizza delivery. Hell, she wanted a massage.

Just after she had crossed the city limit, she found a gas station and filled up. Then she paid with another prepaid Visa and walked inside.

“Can I help you?” asked the girl at the cash register.

“I’m looking for a place to stay for the night. Got any suggestions?”

“Nothing in Everwood is too far away.” The girl grinned. “It’s a pretty small place.”

“How nice.” It wasn’t nice. It meant she might be staying in another roadside motel. She hadn’t felt a twinge of morning sickness yet, but if she looked at one more cheap polyester bedspread, she might hork all over it.

“The closest place is a motel off the highway. Turn right at the next light and you can’t miss it.”

Uh-huh. “What other options are there?”

An older man walked in from the back. He nodded to her. “How you doin’?”

Her tired mind seized up. It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be normal. She hesitated too long as she groped for the right pleasantry.

Both the man and the girl watched her, their attention hooked. The girl paused in chewing her gum.

Molly said cheerfully, “It’s going to be summer solstice soon.”

Soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. That didn’t sound crazy at all, did it?

Oddly, the man seemed to relax. Smiling, he said, “Did I hear you’re looking for a place to stay?”

“Yes.” She eyed him warily, unsure if she wanted to trust anybody who relaxed at her strangeness. “Got any recommendations?”

He nodded. “Follow this road north about a mile and a half. It’ll curve to the right. Turn left onto Muir Road. That will take you up the hill. There’s an old bed-and-breakfast at the top. You can’t miss it. It’s the big house that overlooks the bay. There’s a widow’s walk on the roof.”

A widow’s walk. That meant the house was built sometime in the nineteenth century, it would be large, and it had an ocean view. And the thought of a real breakfast acted like a siren’s lure. They might even let her do her laundry.

“Sounds interesting, thanks.” She returned the man’s smile.