At the moment, Summer and Camille sat on the floor of the back office, alone. Tina had gone to pick up lunch. Chloe was working the front of the store with the twins. Summer was doing her best not to think about Joe. “This is shocking,” she said flipping through receipts that dated back fifteen years. “You’re both such smart, modern women. How did you get so completely record challenged? I mean, fifteen years, Mom.”

“I know it looks bad, but the truth is, once a year we bring our accountant the general ledger from the computer printouts. He’s never asked for paper backup. We never needed these little slips, you’re lucky we even kept them.”

“We could call the accountant for help now.”

“Sure, but he’d cost a fortune, not to mention think we were the biggest idiots in town.”

Summer’s stomach rolled as she listened to her mother’s reasoning. Was embarrassment the real issue here, or was there something else?

God, she hated this doubt, this never-ending fear.

Camille was sitting on the floor. “What I don’t get is why you haven’t run screaming for the hills.” She wore a peasant blouse and a full denim skirt that was splayed around her, and four beaded bracelets up her right arm that jingled together with her every movement. “I’m beginning to think you’re enjoying yourself here.”

Summer looked into Camille’s smiling but baffled expression. “I am, actually.”

“You weren’t at first.”

“I know, but that was my fault. I kept you all at a distance. I’m good at that.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t think it’s a what.” Summer set down a fistful of deposit slips. “I think it’s a who.”

“Joe?”

Summer held her suddenly butterfly-ridden stomach. “Yes,” she said in a hushed whisper as if giving away a soul-deep secret. It felt like one.

“Oh, honey. He’s just what I would have wanted for you. Caring and compassionate, strong and kind. Like you.”

Summer was so stunned that for a moment she couldn’t speak. “You think I’m all those things?”

“I know it. Your dad used to say it all the time.”

“Mom.” Summer shook her head. “How come we never talk about him?”

Camille closed her eyes. “Too painful.”

“It’d be less painful to let it out. I want to let it out. I’ve been thinking about everything for so long now: Dad, life, love. How to make the motions of going through it all.”

“Having any luck?”

“No, and I’m going to lose Joe forever if I don’t figure this out.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a matter of getting past the fear.”

Summer laughed. “You have a book for that?”

Her mom remained serious. “Maybe you just do it. Maybe you just leap. Without looking.”

“That sounds painful.”

“Not as painful as not living,” Camille said. “Right?”