She heard herself explaining anyway, out of habit, “My friend met me up there and we wanted to drive one car back instead of two.” She shrugged lamely.

He frowned. “You left it at the lake house?”

Nodding, she held her breath, waiting for him to heap his usual criticism upon her head. Instead, he continued to nod, accepting her explanation.

“Claire?” Her mother hurried past her father to embrace her. “What a surprise.” Ushering her inside, she glanced up at her husband. “Isn’t this a nice surprise, Mike?”

Claire’s father nodded in agreement.

Her mother eyed her closely, reaching up to brush the hair back off her forehead. “I tried calling you at the lake house all week.”

Claire couldn’t think up an excuse for that. At this point, her father would usually dive in with some comment about her being inconsiderate and selfish, but he remained oddly silent as he followed them into the kitchen.

Her mother stuck her head in the fridge and began sorting through the leftovers. “We have some ham—”

“Sounds good,” Claire replied numbly, feeling strange standing in her old familiar kitchen, her parents on either side of her. The last time she’d been in this house she had felt different, changed, but she hadn’t known the reason.

Her mother set a platter of sliced ham on the island countertop. “You want a sandwich?”

Claire nodded and began munching on a slice of ham as her mother reached for the Wonder bread. Her mother moved about the kitchen with boundless energy—a humming vitality that Claire had never seen in her before.

“Can’t say I’m sorry you’ve come back early.” Her mother pulled two jars from the fridge.

Claire arched a brow and licked the salty taste of ham off her fingers.

Her mother dipped her head, color flooding her cheeks as she dug a butter knife out of the drawer. “Your father and I have been playing with the idea of getting away.” Removing a plate from the cabinet, she glanced almost shyly at Claire. “Are you finished using the lake house?”

Claire nodded, frowning at both her parents. They seldom used the lake house.

“Good.” Her mother set a napkin next to her plate, giving it a cheerful little pat. “We’ll head up there this weekend, then.” Glancing at her husband, she suggested, “Maybe we can rent one of those paddleboats.”

Claire nearly choked on a bite of ham. Certainly her father would shoot that idea down. He would want to float in a paddleboat about as much as he wanted a root canal.

“Sure,” he murmured, giving Claire wide berth as he moved to the fridge, further astounding her when he got his very own beer.

Claire looked her father up and down incredulously. Who was this man?

“Miracle Whip or mayo?” Her mother held up both jars.