“She’s lost her boy,” Alice reminded her daughter, her voice softening with sadness. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

Brynne’s eyes burned again. “I’m fine, Mom,” she said.

Alice hugged her tightly. “Thank the good Lord,” she replied.

“I think I hear those pups barking,” Mike teased, already edging toward the door. The Baileys had always had dogs; the current pair were rescued Yorkies, and Alice babied them shamelessly. “We’d better get going.”

“You’re always ‘going,’” Miranda put in. She’d been hovering at the edge of things, which was fine, since she was considered part of the family. “About time you settled down in one place for a while.”

“We plan to do that right here in Painted Pony Creek,” Alice responded. “Our gypsy days are over. Come spring, we plan to sell the RV and use the money to build onto the house and maybe update this place, too.” She looked around, assessing the admittedly dated interior, worn vinyl chairs, Formica tabletops and linoleum floors.

Although Brynne was very glad her parents were staying in town indefinitely, she felt a little like a third wheel, where the restaurant was concerned. She wasn’t sure there would be room for her, once Mike and Alice returned to work.

Her misgivings must have shown in her face, because her dad gave her a one-armed hug and reassured her. “Don’t go worrying that we’ll take over completely,” he told her. “Your mom and I aren’t here to edge you out of the business. You’re still the manager, and we’ll follow your instructions.”

Fat chance, Brynne thought, biting back a laugh.

“Or,” interjected Alice, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “you’ll finally get married and give us some grandchildren.”

That time, Brynne did laugh. “Don’t jump the gun, Mom. Whatever you might have heard to the contrary—” here, she turned a glance Miranda’s way “—there’s no wedding on the horizon, and there are certainly no babies.”

Clearly, Alice wasn’t convinced, but she did back off slightly, probably because Mike gave her a meaningful look. “Well, anyway,” she chimed, “we’ll be off now. I’m dying for a long soak in my own bathtub.”

With that, the hustle and bustle of leaving began.

Soon, her folks were back in their RV and headed for the house on Pine Street.

And Brynne returned to her work, waiting tables, consulting with Frank in the kitchen, and feeling unaccountably lonely.

Maybe it was time to text Eli.

ONE OF THE THINGS Eli disliked about winter was that it got dark so early.

He left the office in the thick of twilight, consulting his fancy electronic watch as he approached his truck: 4:37.