“Goodnight, Frannie.” I turned around and headed out. Snow was just starting to fall, heavy and thick. “Thanks again. I’ll pick them up in the morning.”

“No rush!” she called. “Drive carefully. I think we’re getting hit hard tonight. Like eight or nine inches.”

I spun around and walked backward a few feet. “Maybe you’re getting hit hard with nine inches tonight—I’m getting nothing!”

She burst out laughing. “Enjoy your evening anyway!”

* * *

When I got home, the house was empty. My parents had gone to have dinner with Oliver’s mom and dad, who were old friends of theirs, and wouldn’t be back until late. I puttered around the house, looking for things to do, but the kitchen was clean and the family room picked up and my mother liked to leave the Christmas decorations up at least through New Year’s Eve.

If the inn had been open, I might have wandered down to the bar for a glass of wine, but it was closed until Monday to give the staff some time off. I thought about calling April, but then I remembered she was having dinner with a high school friend who was in town for the holidays. Chloe and Oliver were also at his parents’ house, and Meg was surely with Noah tonight.

I thought about running a bath and relaxing in the tub with a book, but I felt too antsy. I didn’t really want to sit still. I didn’t really want time to think.

Laundry, I thought, getting pitifully excited at the idea of a Saturday night spent sorting and washing and folding. At least it would keep my hands busy. I grabbed a basket from the laundry room and brought it upstairs, collecting my dirty clothes before heading into Whitney’s room. She was fairly neat, like I was, and everything that needed to be washed was piled on a chair in the corner.

Keaton was a different story. His clothes were tossed all over the room. I was gathering them up when I noticed a bunch of crumbs on his unmade bed. Frowning, I lifted up his pillow, but nothing was hidden there. Kneeling on the floor, I bent down and checked under the bed. Nothing there either. When I stood up again, I pulled open the nightstand drawer—and found a pile of chocolate candy, a stash of Christmas cookies, and a ton of empty wrappers.

My anger at Brett flared all over again. This was all his fault and I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn’t want to have to deal with it. I didn’t want to spend another Saturday evening feeling like a terrible mother. I didn’t want to be living at my parents’ house at my age. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

I wonder what Henry is doing.