“What do you mean he disappeared? Did he run away?”
Rae shrugged. “I’m not sure. But he lives with this really mean guy, and I was afraid . . .”
“You should’ve told me. We could’ve contacted the police.”
The look on Mom’s face gave Rae the impression she should probably save the information that they’d gone to Morgan’s house for another time. She didn’t want Mom’s head to explode.
“I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, and it didn’t. Morgan’s fine.”
Mom sighed. “You still lied to me. You said you were at Gerrit’s. When the sheriff showed up at the door—” her voice wavered with emotion—“I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Really. I should’ve told you.”
Mom took a deep breath, composing herself. “We’ll talk more about this once we’ve both had some rest.”
“Okay.”
Mom drove on in silence for a minute, though the air between them crackled with words still unsaid. Rae glanced at her from the corner of her eye and waited.
“And maybe it’s time we talked about The Plan, too.” Mom blurted out the words as if unsure how they would sound. “If you have something on your mind, I want you to feel like you can come to me with it.”
Rae sat back. This was new. “What about Dad?”
“What about him?”
“He’ll say I’ve got to take my future more seriously. He’ll think—”
“He only wants you to be happy.”
“I won’t be happy if you get divorced.”
Mom tapped the brakes as if she wanted to stop in the middle of the road. “No one’s getting divorced.” She put one hand to her chest. “Why would you even say that?”
Rae swallowed. She hadn’t meant to bring up the D-word, but she needed to know. “The way you guys have been acting . . .”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom rubbed her forehead. “Yes, it’s been a tough year, with your father’s job and your grandmother, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“How can I not worry about it?” All the overheard conversations, the accusations, they didn’t mean nothing.
Mom sighed. “I’m so sorry you thought . . . I don’t even want to say that word. It’s not going to happen.”
An expectant buzz of hope droned in Rae’s ears, and she sat up a little straighter. All this time she’d been thinking the worst. “So you guys are okay?”
“There are some things your father and I need to talk about.” Mom put her blinker on to turn in to Evergreen Terrace. “Some changes we need to make. But yes, we’re okay. And the first thing we will discuss when you are up to it is The Plan. All right?”
Rae rested her head against the seat back. Wow. This was uncharted territory. The Plan had never been up for debate or open to discussion before. Then again she’d never had these doubts before, either. But if her choosing to make alterations to The Plan wasn’t going to result in a divorce, then who knew what she might decide to do?
It was funny, in a sick sort of way. It had taken her almost being crushed to death in a car accident to get to the point where she could have this conversation with her mom. Relief coursed through her body. She was almost glad she’d been in the accident.
Maybe she should’ve asked God for help sooner.
She smiled to herself. “Okay.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Gerrit grumbled as he shifted his weight forward. He couldn’t sit in this beat-up old recliner for one more minute. He’d promised Hannie when she left for work that he would be good—and he had spent all morning watching Kellan’s Kitchen—but he was antsy to get outside. He felt much better today. Walking around and visiting Rae in the hospital last night had helped in loosening up his muscles.
Now he had some unfinished business to take care of.
As he eased himself onto his feet, Daisy raised her eyebrows at him. Don’t say I didn’t warn you flickered in her eyes.
In the kitchen, he paused next to a pair of sunglasses on the counter. Evi’s. He hadn’t spoken to her since Monday. Didn’t know what he’d say if he did. If George would’ve just minded his own business . . .
Harrumph. He winced as he pulled on his boots. He was going to settle this thing with George once and for all.
Daisy pouted when he told her to stay in the house, but he shut the door in her face before she could change his mind. He didn’t need her running around underfoot, causing a distraction. Outside, it was clear and still, and he could hear the familiar racket of George working in his shop. He was probably building the stupid end table Gerrit had accidentally ordered. Perfect.
It was no trouble getting to George’s shop, what with a gaping Gerrit-sized hole in the fence between their two properties. He slipped through and approached the building, practicing in his mind what he would say.
You’ve got some nerve messing with my grill after all you’ve done.
You ruined everything.
That money should’ve been mine.
I should be the one to call the cops on you.
Don’t ever come near my house again.
It was a warm day. The shop door was wide open. His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached. George was wearing bulky yellow earmuffs to protect his ears, so he didn’t hear Gerrit coming or turn around. Gerrit stood in the doorway, neck muscles tensing. Fists clenching. Bracing himself.
This was it. A moment thirty years in the making.
George worked with his back to Gerrit, his shoulders stooped. Wood shavings covered the floor. Gerrit stepped into the shop, anger and humiliation buzzing like a miter saw in his head, driving him forward.
Then he hesitated. An end table he knew Hannie
