“Your mom’s taking some time for herself” is how he phrased it.

He explained that she had gone to see Aunt Jennifer in November and decided to stay through Thanksgiving.

Which led to her telling him she intended to remain “a little bit longer.”

Which then led to her telling Dad in early December that she was going to stay there “indefinitely.”

And that was about as much explanation as I was given. The rest I had to fill in on my own, which of course meant I chose to color with the “doom” crayon and did my best to avoid the situation for the following week, though even I knew that would only last so long.

I sighed, feeling tired to my bones.

I finally left the spa to make my way through the first-floor hallways, intending to go up the back stairs to the second floor, where my tiny room was located.

But when I passed by one of the hallway windows overlooking the pathway to where the cottages were located, I caught sight of Dad on his phone, wearing his winter coat and pacing beneath the light of the moon.

He talked and gestured and gestured and talked.

I stopped to watch.

Gut instinct and common sense merged to make me certain Mom was on the other side of that call. His expression was tight and he ran his hand through his short chocolate-brown hair.

My parents weren’t arguers; that wasn’t their style. Or at least they weren’t when I was around. Which made the whole situation that much more difficult for me to fathom.

Then he ended the call and his body slumped in what seemed like defeat.

I wanted to go to him but my feet were rooted. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one who had been watching. Grandma Jo approached him from the direction of the inn, slipping on her down coat before she reached him.

I couldn’t hear what they said, but I watched her pull him into a comforting hug and, equally unusual, he let her.

Then she rubbed his back as they turned together, her arm looped through his, and continued on down the path toward their cottages.

Right then I felt the phone in my pocket buzz, alerting me to an incoming message. Sure enough, when I checked I found a voicemail waiting for me.

From Mom.

It must’ve come in when I was walking through the hallways or maybe even when I was in the library. I played her voicemail.