“Well, come on back. You can help yourself to some coffee and tell us all about it,” Darlene insisted. “How long do we have you?”

“I thought I’d stay for a couple of weeks. Take a little vacation,” she said, following her mom into the kitchen.

It was her favorite room in the house. After spending two straight weeks arguing about stains, her parents had gone rogue and painted the cabinets a hunter green. Glossy blue tiles made up the countertops. An odd-shaped island angled its way between the workspace and breakfast nook, a booth with deep cushions and a rich maple table built into the bay window.

“Did you get fired?” Darlene asked.

Remi snorted as she opened the mug cabinet over the coffeemaker and dug through the contents until she found her favorite. A chunky, bright yellow mug that said Don’t Worry Be Happy. “No, Mom. I didn’t get fired. I’m actually painting full-time now.”

“You are? Well, isn’t that—Holy crap! Is that the time?” Gilbert squawked, checking the microwave clock. “I have to get to school!”

“Well, shit. I have a call I can’t miss this morning,” Darlene noted as she glanced at her own watch.

Remi jumped out of the way as both parents dove for the coffeemaker to top off their travel mugs.

“Family dinner for our starving artist,” her mom decided, screwing the cap on her mug.

The starving part of that description was something Remi had, until recently, looked forward to dispelling. But now she couldn’t reveal the good news without breaking the bad.

“Tonight?” Gilbert shoved the now empty carafe back on the burner and frowned. “Do I have a thing or do you have a thing?”

“Double shit,” Darlene groaned. “You have the fundraiser at the basketball game tonight, and I have a town council meeting.”

“It’s okay,” Remi insisted. “I’m in town for a while.”

“Tomorrow night,” Gilbert announced, pointing both index fingers at her. “I’ll call your sister.”

Darlene grabbed the bag of coffee beans and shoved it at Remi. “Make yourself a fresh pot and pull a roast or something out of the freezer. Oh, and since you’re here, mind switching the laundry over to the dryer?”

Her parents sandwiched her for noisy, rushed cheek kisses, and then they were gone. She heard the old Yamaha snowmobile fire up on the street and watched through the front window as her dad climbed on behind her mother. Chief Ford would drop Mr. Ford off at the K-12 school and then loop around into downtown to start her day at the police station on Market Street.

She felt the tiniest sliver of disappointment that they hadn’t had time for coffee together. But that’s what she got for popping in on them unannounced on a Thursday. The kitchen was too quiet, so she switched on the ancient radio her father used to catch Wolverine games.

As something quiet and classical poured forth from the speaker, soft yellow and gold clouds billowed around the room, keeping her company. Who’d have thought that the little girl with skinned knees and pink E’s would find her place in the world painting things that only she could see?