“We’ve done our best, and that’s all we can do. Now we just have to hope this place is going to be all right.” Dan grabbed Renee’s hand and pulled her to his chest reminding her that some of the things she cared about the most were right there with her. He hugged her tight. “Let’s go. We’ve got to take care of ourselves.”

She whispered goodbye to the Old Red Mill and to her dream of a pie shop, just in case this was it. “Good luck, my friend.”

The ride back to Bree’s was only seven minutes, though it felt like seven hours. The rain had started to come down hard, and the wind was rapidly gaining momentum. They watched in horror as debris flew through the air, narrowly missing the windshield more than once.

Moe was continuing to pant and whine. Dan reached back and scratched him behind one ear. “Dogs can sense the weather. They know when something bad is about to happen.”

Renee studied Sadie who was staring down at her phone instead of the trees that were practically bowing in the wind.

When they arrived back at Bree’s, her sister was pale.

“If you don’t mind, I might sit down for a second,” she said, the circles under her eyes a near match for the purple storm clouds outside.

“Of course.” Renee immediately busied herself in the kitchen. It was either do or worry about everyone.

“Want me to make us some coffee?” Dan asked, trying to be helpful as usual.

“I was actually going to whip up a quick batch of sangria. Figured we needed something a little stronger.” Renee smiled at him. “Plus, I remember how you make coffee…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? And how’s that?”

“Not well,” she said, making him laugh.

Dan had made them a fresh pot the morning after he’d spent the night at Renee’s house, and the man clearly was not well versed in the art of coffee-bean grinding. Renee had discreetly spit the gritty sediment into a napkin each time Dan hadn’t been looking.

It was the thought that mattered, right?

“Go and keep the others company. Have Moe do tricks,” she said, only half kidding. Anything would be better than watching the news reports. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Renee stood at Bree’s kitchen counter, pouring a bottle of tempranillo into a pitcher followed by orange juice and brandy. She also attempted to tidy up. The sink had been full of dishes while the fridge had nothing but expired milk and some sad-looking carrots. There was a stack of unopened mail on the table. Plus, crumbs proliferated on seemingly every available surface.