Cassie yanked the door open and frowned at her aunt. Not many women her aunt’s age could wear faded Levi cutoffs, a vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt and sparkly flip flops, but Frieda managed it easily. “You know, for someone who’s worried about my safety, you sure don’t hesitate to announce my single status to the neighbors.”

Loaded down with at least four plastic grocery bags in each hand, Frieda glanced up and down the street then grimaced. “Oops?”

“Oops, indeed.” She motioned to the bags in Frieda’s hands. “What are those?”

“Provisions. I’ve got chips and everything we need for homemade guacamole, queso and margaritas.”

Oh, thank you, Jesus. It wouldn’t keep her from relying on PB&J’s for the next month, but at least she’d have the tools necessary to deny what lay ahead for a few hours or so.

Cassie waved her aunt inside. “It’s official. You’re forgiven.”

Treating the kitchen like it was her own, Frieda scanned Cassie from head to toe and got to work on unpacking the bags. “Boy shorts and a T-shirt before five o’clock on a Wednesday night?”

“Don’t judge. At least I’ve got on pants. For a few minutes when I got home, even the boy shorts were debatable.”

“Where’s your car? I didn’t see it out front.”

“That’s because it’s in the shop. Do you have any idea how much it costs to pay for a tow truck?”

“Bad day, I take it?”

“Not the best, that’s for sure.” Cassie pulled the tequila out of the bag closest to her and lifted it in mock salute. “Definitely a good night to spend with Cuervo.”

“You know what’s wrong with it yet?”

“Something about a timing chain?” Cassie pulled the blender parts from the top shelf and got to work gathering drink essentials. “I didn’t even know cars had a timing chain. What I do know is, they’re expensive to get fixed.”

“How much?”

With more force than was necessary, Cassie plunked the blender’s pitcher into the base. “Four-hundred and fifty freaking dollars.”

Frieda glanced over her shoulder and grunted, but otherwise kept her silence and went back to prepping the avocados.

Cassie chuckled. “Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“I told you so.”

Frieda shook her head and sighed, but it was one of those understanding ones rather than the long-suffering variety her parents specialized in. “I’m not gonna say I told you so, sweetie. We all make our choices and do the best we can living with them. The last thing you need is someone rubbing your nose in the first hurdle that hits you.” She set her knife aside and rummaged around in the lower cabinet until she found the cutting board, then straightened and smiled at Cassie. “What I will do is make sure we do at least one big dinner at your place once a week until you get over this hump. At least that way I can make sure you’ve got some decent leftovers.”

The tension that had been riding Cassie’s neck and shoulders released in an instant and, for a moment, her knees got shaky. She wrapped her aunt up in a fierce hug. “Thank you.”