Standing at the front window in the restaurant, between two booths, she watched as her dad parked the rig on a side street. He maneuvered that RV as easily as Brynne did her roadster, and she felt a little swell of pride in the old man.

She’d been in a low mood since the fight with Eli, even though they’d tentatively reconciled, and even her painting hadn’t brought her out of the doldrums.

Now, seeing her parents alight from the rig, wearing jeans, boots and matching red puffy coats, her spirits lifted significantly.

Miranda nudged Brynne with one elbow, smiling, and handed over her coat.

“Go on,” she urged, in a happy whisper.

Brynne pulled on the coat and hurried outside. The sidewalk had been salted, but there were still icy patches, so she was careful.

Mike and Alice Bailey crossed the street, holding hands, and for a moment, Brynne’s eyes scalded and her vision blurred.

God knew her parents drove her crazy sometimes—her mother’s penchant for planning weddings at the first sign of a man in her daughter’s orbit would only increase now, of course—but they were wonderful people, and she loved them very much.

She’d missed them far more than she’d realized, too.

As she embraced them, first her mother, then her dad, she felt overly emotional, and very grateful that they were her parents. She could just as easily have been born to very different people—like the Lansings.

There was a great deal of laughter, and then the three of them went inside the restaurant, where the air was steamy and fragrant and warm.

Miranda took her turn at hugging the new arrivals, and Frank came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his cobbler’s apron, to shake hands with Mike and nod a shy greeting to Alice.

The whole scene was festive, even though all the holiday decorations had been removed days before.

Mike refused politely when Brynne offered to prepare a late breakfast or an early lunch, whichever they preferred.

“We need to head on over to the house and start settling in,” he said.

“And the dogs have been cooped up since we left Wyoming,” Alice added.

The Baileys frequented a network of campgrounds all over the Western United States and parts of Canada, which usually made it easy for Brynne to keep track of their approximate whereabouts at any given time.

In this case, they’d caught her by surprise.

“We stopped at the supermarket to pick up a few necessities,” Alice continued. “Gretchen Lansing was there, working away. We offered our condolences, your dad and I, but she wasn’t very receptive.”

“No,” Brynne replied, remembering the death-glares she’d received from both the Lansings on the day of their son’s funeral. “It must be awful to be so angry and so bitter.”