And I knew why. The whole pattern—strong emotion followed by covering it up followed by walking away—directly mimicked the way my parents argued during the Bad Year. Mom would say something harsh and hurtful, setting off a quick, mean-spirited argument that would tie my stomach into knots. There would be no reconciliation, but at some point, Mom would be wearing a serene smile and Dad would brightly offer to take Alexis and me out to eat and we’d leave. Putting on a happy face became the norm, especially for me.

I just couldn’t shake this dreadful feeling that I’d behaved more like my mother in this situation toward Dean than I ever thought possible.

A light pressure on my wrist shook me from my reverie. It was Maria, looking much too kind for my current emotional state. “You’re not too sore from dancing, are you, dear?”

Thinking of twisting the night away with Dean’s parents last night almost wrenched a sob from my throat. “Oh my goodness, not at all,” I said, placing my hand over hers. “I can’t thank you enough for making me always feel so welcome. I’ve looked up to you and Midge for my entire life.”

She stared at me quizzically before giving me a hug. She patted me on the back and said softly, “Whatever is wrong, I know you can fix it. Have faith, dear.”

I swallowed past a lump in my throat bigger than the Oswald Properties truck parked ominously in front of the vacant lot. “I appreciate that,” I said, although I wasn’t sure if I could fix the mess I’d made. Over Maria’s shoulder, my gaze slid to the garden Dean and I had started planting, and my heart sped up at the sight of it. Even if things were a mess in my personal life, that didn’t mean we couldn’t save the park. I hadn’t been lying when I told Dean about miracles. You couldn’t have the privilege of getting to know as many community activists as I’d done during my career and not witness your fair share of last-minute marvels.

Maria released me and I turned to the neighbors and clapped my hands to get their attention. Natalia and Martín, Eddie and Alice, Midge and Maria went quiet. I cocked my thumb at the truck. “This fucking sucks.”

“You could say that again,” Eddie grumbled with a scowl.

“What are we gonna do to stop it?” I asked, hands on my hips. “I put out some feelers on the fundraising page for the park and on social media, so I can follow up on any leads that come my way.”

Natalia and Martín shared a look. “Our friends—the Santos family, who started their own park—we’re heading there now to go talk to them,” Martín said. “I’m hopeful they’ll have a solution.”