Renee racked her memory bank, trying to remember every time her younger sister had acted distant in the past. She’d definitely been moody while waiting for her college acceptance letters to arrive—Renee could remember getting a hairbrush tossed in her direction when she asked if she’d heard from any schools yet. Oh, and then there was that month where Bree was convinced she was going to lose her job. She thought she had overheard her boss talking about downsizing and feared there wouldn’t be room for her anymore at the small store. She’d definitely been distant then.

Well, shit.

Maybe this wasn’t about a new boyfriend.

“Breaking now from Massachusetts,” longtime news anchor, Chip Dierking, said. He was a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a baritone voice. “There are reports of high winds and flooding, which meteorologists say are only growing in intensity as this storm moves its way up the coast. Joining us now is our own meteorologist, Leslie Daniels, reporting from the Cranberry Cove Harbor.”

It gave her a jolt hearing the name of their little town on national news.

“Leslie, what’s the latest you can tell us?”

Leslie Daniels’s highlighted hair was whipping in the wind, completely shielding her face as she tried to talk into the microphone. “Thanks, Chip. What wild weather we’ve been having this year, huh? We’re closely monitoring the system now. We think it’s a real possibility the Maine coast could be hit with a category one hurricane by nightfall. And the small town of Cranberry Cove appears to be ground zero. All residents are encouraged to take precautions—protect your property and, most importantly, yourselves. It’s always better to be overprepared than under.”

Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, she instinctively picked up her phone and dialed Dan.

“Renee?” Dan answered on the first ring. “Are you watching the news?”

“I am,” she sighed. “Unsettling, isn’t it?”

“Spoken like an understated Mainer. Listen, Moe and I are coming over now. I’ll help you get prepared.” How did he know the right answer before she had to ask? “We’ll be there in ten minutes. Sound like a plan?”

“But what about your cabin? And the boat? Are they going to be all right?”

“All good, or as good as I can get them. Time to concentrate on you,” he said. “We’ll ride this out together.”

Renee tried to say thank you, but her voice was caught somewhere between her heart and her mouth. She was too overcome with relief and gratitude. Quickly, she got to work, packing a large cooler with perishables and located long-forgotten flashlights and an inherited storm radio. Thank God Tansy was safe in Southern California. She paused with a rueful smile. This was the first time she was appreciative of the fact that her daughter was thousands of miles away.