KATHERINE

I was halfway to the door when the phone rang.

Erland breezed past me, snatched the keys from the foyer table, and shot me a cheeky salute before closing the screen door behind him.

"I need the car, Erland!"

He shrugged and tapped his wrist as if to say, Can't wait forever.

The phone persisted.

Frustrated flared through me, but I swallowed it down. Every problem had a solution, right? I waved him on. "Start the car. I'll be there in a minute."

I fished my phone from my pocket and tapped out an apologetic response to Betsy. She wouldn't have a problem waiting at the bakery, but it may be more difficult to convince the cake designer to hold my spot. I clicked send, took a steadying breath, and lifted the home phone from the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey, sweetie." Mom's voice shook as she spoke, which instantly made me straighten, my free hand going to clutch the barstool at the island.

"What's going on?"

Mom let out a breathless laugh, and I worried for a moment if she was having an episode. She'd had a few in the years since her accident, bursts of moments where she would lose her sense of place or self. Enough to make her doctor prescribe some meds for when she couldn't be calmed. But those moments were punctuated mostly by hallucinations of Dad—and with trying to find the man that had been my birth father.

"What are you seeing, Mom?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Katherine. I'm okay. It's your grandfather."

I scowled. My empathy evaporated like dew under the springtime sun, just like it did whenever Mom bothered to tell me about the man that tried to ruin my life for the blood that flowed through my veins. "What now? You told him I wasn't going to pay for his cigarettes, right?"

A muffled sound came over the receiver, as Mom seemed to speak with someone beside her. The other voice came across annoyed, in curt tones, and when Mom returned, she sounded more strained than before.

"Mom, are you at the prison?" I fought the groan that threatened to escape me. "I told you not to bother with him—"

"Dad is sick, Katherine." She let out another shaky laugh. "The prison doctor even said he may not make it to the end of the week. They have to transfer him to the hospital. I'm going there now—"

"Mom, I can't do this right now—"

"Katherine, I need you to look on my laptop and find the contact for Mr. Justin Williams. I'll call you once I see him."

I started to protest more, but the dial tone signaled that Mom had hung up.

It'd been two years since I first came to Alabama to start work at Wayward. A year and a half since a judge sentenced Gramps to twenty years for conspiracy and fraud. It wasn't a life, but it might as well have been for his age—and it was still less than what that rat bastard deserved. Anger flared up in my chest and if I was still on the phone, I might have spit fire over the call.

I slammed the phone onto the receiver.

"Hey, Kat, I'm about to leave without you—" Erland entered the kitchen, swinging the keys around his finger. He froze when he saw me, the keys falling to the tiles with a discordant jingle.

He was at my side in an instant. "What's the matter?"

I pressed my lips together until I was sure I could keep my voice from shaking. "Mom called. Gramps is sick. She wants me to talk to the lawyer that wrote up his will."

Erland's face expressed a million emotions—shock, worry, doubt, anger—before it settled with a grim determination. "I'll call him. Save you the stress of getting that idiot on the phone—"

I placed a hand on his shoulder, though whether to steady him or myself I didn't know, and shook my head. "I'll handle it, Er." I picked the keys up off the white marble. "You have to get your volunteer hours in."

Erland rolled his eyes. "The library can wait."

I gave him a look.

"Fine." He sighed. "Give me the number at least. I can call on my break. You've got a meeting with Betsy that you're already late for."

I scowled and looked my brother up and down. By the stubborn set of his jaw, I could tell he wouldn't give up easily. But underneath my frustration, I could feel a current of admiration for my kid brother. In truth, he was hardly a kid anymore at almost six feet, and the dark stubble shadowing his jawline only reminded me that he was only two months away from turning eighteen. He'd shown a lot of fortitude during Gramps' sentencing before, and I didn't doubt he could do it again.

I dropped the keys in his palm. "Go start the car. I'll text you the number when I find it."

* * *

While Erland navigated the congested streets of Millard City, I tapped out a message to Betsy. It was no sooner read than I received a phone call. I groaned.

Erland turned down the radio, tapping some buttons on the dashboard. "Put it on speaker," he said, grinning. "I wanna say hi."

I shot him a glare, then put the phone to my ear. "Hey, Betsy, I'm on my way—"

"You better be, or I'll send you the bill for secondhand embarrassment."

I jolted at the sudden sound of Betsy's voice over the car's speakers. Erland grinned at me. "One second, Betsy," I said. "We'll be there in about five minutes, if you don't mind driving me back."

Erland took the cue and switched to turn left at the stop sign. Now we were headed to the bakery first, and he would have the car to go to the library. I wouldn't give him that freedom, knowing his girlfriend Bella also worked at the library, but I had little choice now.

I reached to turn the radio Bluetooth off, but Erland slapped my hand away.

"Hey," Erland said. "I don't mind if you go a little late."

"Well, I do." I turned the Bluetooth off my phone and pressed the speaker to my ear in time to catch Betsy's laughter.

"That's a good one, Er," she said.

"Well, he meant it—There, Er, pull over here and I'll walk the rest of the way." I signaled to the corner. Erland had barely stopped the car before I opened the door and hopped out. I hung up the call as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Kat!" Erland called.

I spun in time to catch Erland dangling my purse by its strap. Heat warmed my cheeks. "Thanks." I snatched it quickly and scurried back to the sidewalk as the driver behind Erland honked her horn. "Go, go."

He pulled away, down the rest of the busy street, but I didn't have time to watch where he went. Spinning on my heel, I rushed past the bustling clothing shops before ducking into Alice's Bakery.

My heels clicked on the marble tiles, the sweet scent of frosting and lilac permeating the air. I adjusted the cuff of my button-down shirt as I neared the receptionist, sweat beading on the back of my neck even with the frigid air conditioner.

A finely-dressed woman looked up at me from the desk. "Miss Malloy?" When I nodded, she pressed a button on the intercom.

Beside the desk, a door opened.

I took a step toward the door, then paused. The receptionist wasn't looking at me anymore, tapping her manicured nails against the quartz countertop. I cleared my throat. "Which way do I...?"

The woman sighed, glancing at the clock. "Miss Malloy, Alice is very busy. If you don't want to lose your deposit and fall out of her favor, I suggest you move quickly."

I ducked into the passage. It was as clean and pristine as the front, with each door shut firmly. The warm scent of cakes baking filtered through the vents, but it was so quiet I doubted there was a kitchen behind any of the rooms available to me.

My phone dinged. I had no sooner fished it out of my back pocket when a door opened and the annoyed face of my best friend poked out.

"You better have a good excuse, Kat," she said, scowling. I knew from experience she would be over her frustration soon enough—maybe even quicker once she learned about Gramps—even so, I couldn't help but quicken my step to her side.

She put a hand on my shoulder before I entered, swiping some invisible lint from my shirt, and ushered me in.

The room was a small office, with two guest chairs and comfortable decorations, but a display case stole the spot where a desk should have been. At least five different portions of cake were nestled underneath the cool white light, and the crumb-covered plates seated atop the glass only reminded me of how late I was.

"Where's Alice?" The seat behind the display case was pulled back as if someone had sat there, but left.

Betsy's frown deepened. "She's gone to get a few more samples from the bakery. But I think she'll be coming back with a bigger bill."

Guilt washed over me like a heat wave. My eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry, Betsy. I can cover it, really—"

She waved my protests away, crossing her arms. "No. This is my contribution. Now, tell me, what happened?" Her voice shifted to a note of concern despite the annoyance that still laced her expression.

Elizabeth Chase was no moron. She was the greatest friend I could have ever gotten after my breakup with Nick so many years ago, and she was as sharp as a whip. Her flamboyant appearance, with her tight red-brown curls that fell to her shoulders and the glittering bracelets and jewelry that always adorned her extremities, made her look all like the socialite her husband had groomed her to be. Or, rather, soon-to-be ex-husband.

But she could always read my face like she was reading a fashion magazine. Though I loved her for it, it annoyed me sometimes. Like now, when I was still processing what Mom said and couldn't find the words to speak.

At the thought of Gramps' health, I didn't know whether to feel relieved, guilty, concerned, or justified. Or nothing at all.

My phone rang. Mom.

Mouthing an apology to my friend, I answered the call, turning away to face the display case of cakes.

"Any news?"

Mom sighed. "Yes." Her voice sounded less strained, though still shaky with worry. "The prison doctors didn't tell me the truth, Katherine. Dad was attacked by another inmate. He's going into surgery now and..."

"And?" My heart drummed in my chest, my ears, to the point where I almost couldn't hear the rest of what Mom said over the phone.

"They'll have to do an investigation.... That means that, even if he makes it, Kat... he can't stay at the penitentiary."

My blood froze. "Mom, you can't mean—"

"No, no," she said breathlessly, "he won't stay with us. But at a rehabilitation facility in Millard City.... And that's if he makes it."

"What if he doesn't, Mom?"

"We'll get there when we get there," she said. "Have you called Mr. Williams?"

"Erland's on it," I answered reluctantly. At least, I had texted him the contact information before we left the house. If he wasn't distracted on his shift at the library, maybe he could get a moment free...

"Great."

Mom sounded more relaxed than I felt about that detail, but there was little else I could say as the door burst open. In came Alice, balancing five plates on her arms. Betsy rushed to help.

"Listen, Mom, I gotta go. Let me know what happens. I'll see if I can stop by the hospital later tonight."

I hung up the phone. Alice had already cleared the dirty plates from the top of the display case, replacing them with the five samples of new options.

"Katherine Malloy?" Alice looked at me down the bridge of the long nose, and I wondered for a moment if she really was only thirty years old. Her hair was pulled so far back from her face that it erased any beauty that might have been present in her expression.

I held out my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Alice placed a stack of plates in my hand. "You don't have the time for pleasantries, Miss Malloy. Take a seat. We have little time for such a grand decision as a wedding cake."

Betsy and I settled in the guest chairs, though by the look on my best friend's face, I had little doubt she hadn't heard my conversation with Mom. And I could see, reflected back in her brilliant blue eyes, fear that the person who'd colored my worst nightmares was getting his tendrils back into my life.