The heavy doors opened, and Lauren dropped several bags in the entryway.

“Looks like you bought more than a couple of boxes of cereal,” her mother said as she took some of the bags from her.

“Just a few extras. I thought we might need them with this storm they’re predicting.”

Lauren felt the tension in the air and knew she’d caused it by accepting John Giampalo’s offer. “Mom, is everything good? With Dad?”

In the kitchen, Lauren placed her bags on the counter alongside those her mother carried.

“I haven’t spoken of your new . . . job just yet. He’s in a bit of a tizzy with this storm brewing. He’s been glued to the television most of the day, listening for updates. I thought I should wait.”

A zillion scenarios ran through her mind. “I’ll tell him, Mom. It’s fine. Actually, I need to run upstairs and make a couple of phone calls. You okay putting this stuff away?”

“Of course,” her mother said. “I’m perfectly capable, dear.”

“I know you are.” She leaned in to give her mother a hug. “I’ll be right down.”

Lauren hustled out of the kitchen with the bag from the cable company in hand. Her mother hadn’t noticed, and that was fine. Once inside her room, she read through the printed instructions that Brad with the white teeth had given her. First, Lauren booted up her laptop, installed the router and modem, connected this to the cable outlet, then plugged both into the electrical socket, launched the software, and boom, the Montgomerys had Internet access. Lauren almost felt a little guilty for going behind her dad’s back, but, she reminded herself, she was a grown woman, with every right to do this. When she had returned to Fallen Springs three years ago, she had, in a sense, given up a modicum of freedom, though her parents had assured her they would never interfere with her private life, and they hadn’t, at least not enough that it mattered. The nature of her relationship with Brent Ludmore was a touchy subject, one she tolerated now and then because they’d been friends forever. She’d told her parents on more than one occasion she wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way, but her mom always said they crossed their fingers and hoped for the best. She smiled at this memory. Her mother wanted grandchildren, she knew, and someday, if the right guy came along before her childbearing years were over, she hoped to grant her that wish. Being thirty-five years old didn’t give her a lot of wiggle room.

She clicked a few keys on her keyboard, and poof, she was Wi-Fi-enabled. “Yes!” she said, punching a fist in the air. First things first. She checked her e-mail for the flight information Angela had sent, then she logged onto the airline’s website, checking tomorrow’s flight.

Canceled.

Knowing Angela, she was probably on Facebook, so she logged on, saw the green dot, and clicked on her name to send an instant message.