I need to think about something else. Anything else. I shift on the couch, rolling onto my side so I can see my mom’s face.

“So what about the house? Did you accept the offer yet?” The question is forced. With Mason still missing, the house-selling feels like barely a blip on the radar.

“Verbally, yes. But I haven’t signed anything.” She has her arms tucked behind her head and she looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “It feels pretty great here, doesn’t it?”

A flicker of hope ignites in my center. “Would you ever consider… keeping it?”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “I’m not sure how that would work. And the offer was good. Really good. Obviously, things will be delayed on Simon’s end because of Mason, but I don’t want to lose the buyer.”

I think of the buyer looking up excitedly at the house and sigh, sinking even deeper. “You won’t. Every time I saw him, he was looking at the house like he couldn’t wait to get inside.”

“Sorry, what?” She gives a little laugh, but her face is confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“The buyer. He kept hanging out around the house and asking me and Mason questions. He even gave me his card. I obviously didn’t tell you because I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.” That was only days ago, but it feels like an actual lifetime.

She sits up. “The buyer’s a woman, and she’s from out of state. She’s been looking for a place to turn into a bed-and-breakfast. She’s on her way into town to see it tomorrow. Who did you see?”

“Huh?” I sit up too. “There was a guy, we told him to call Simon. His name was… Santo? Sato? Something like that.”

“Did you say Sato?” Her voice is calm, but something in her tone makes my gaze swivel toward hers.

“Yeah. Everything okay?”

She’s leaning forward now. “Do you still have his card?”

“Maybe in my backpack?” My mom follows me to the door where I left it, and then watches me as I dig through the messy contents. I’m expecting her to give me a lecture on keeping things nice, but when I find the card crumpled at the bottom, all she does is grab it from me. I crowd in next to her to look at it. J. P. Sato, Real Estate Attorney.

“I was right. His name’s Sato,” I say.

“He’s an attorney,” she says quietly. A blush is creeping down her neck, the same as it does mine, and as I watch her, the pieces are suddenly nudged into place.

I point to the card. “The P stands for Peter, doesn’t it?”

She can’t tear her eyes from the card. “Yeah. That’s him.”