Lauren closed her laptop and quickly made up the bed. Twenty minutes later, she was showered, dressed, and sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen. Her parents were still sleeping. She enjoyed the early-morning quiet, the privacy, and was having second thoughts about continuing to live in the house. She could stay in the guest cottage, though it would require a few repairs; she would mention it to her mother later, when they decided to act like grown-ups instead of ten-year-olds. Or not. But then she’d be acting like a kid herself. That would be silly, and she laughed at the pure childishness of her thoughts.

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” her mother said, entering the kitchen.

“Mom, you’re up early,” Lauren commented. “Dad okay?”

“I let him sleep in; he needs his rest.”

Lauren placed a pod of her mother’s favorite Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in the Keurig—the sole twenty-first-century item to be found in the house, only tolerated because Lauren had insisted on having one when she had come home three years ago—then clicked the BREW button. As soon as the cup finished, she held the cup out to her mother. “No cream or sugar, right?”

“Watching my waistline, dear. Thank you.” Her mother was wearing the same yellow chenille robe she’d had since Lauren was a little girl. The bend in the elbows had thinned, and the belt she wrapped around her waist was not much more than a few strands of material struggling to stay together.

Definitely time for a new robe. Lauren would order her one for Christmas. And she’d use the Internet. A flash of humor crossed her face.

“What are you smiling about?” her mother asked. “You didn’t seem too happy last night.”

Lauren sat in the chair across from her mother. “And you know why, too. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t back me up, at least tell Dad to listen to what I had to say. I felt a little blindsided, if you want to know the truth.” She took a sip of her tea.

“No, that was not my intention. I’m sorry. Your father was so hyped up over the weather, I just didn’t want to upset him more than necessary. He’s been so touchy lately.”

“Mother, you’re just putting off the inevitable by treating him like an invalid. First of all, he’s not mentally encumbered in any way, at least none that I know of. He can either accept what I’m going to do for John Giampalo or not. It’s his choice. And while we’re speaking of choices, I think it’s time I told you that the sales on Black Friday weekend weren’t that good. I placed a few ads in the papers last night, but I’m not sure if they’ll help at this point.” Lauren took another drink of tea. Now was the time to tell her mother the cold, hard facts. Before her father joined them. “Yesterday, I called my financial adviser. I asked him to deposit enough money in Razzle Dazzle’s account to keep us going for a couple of months. If Dad doesn’t make the leap into the twenty-first century, there isn’t going to be a lot of hope for the store’s future.”