Page 19 of Sometimes You Stay

“Thank you. But he didn’t have to—”

“Nonsense. I traded him for dish duty. He got the better end of the deal. Trust me.”

Cretia didn’t know how to respond, which wasn’t a problem since Marie kept going.

“Finn lives just down the road. It’s about a five-minute drive or a twenty-minute walk—if you’re feeling up to it. Do you think you can make it on your own? I have to take the girls toan awards ceremony at Jack’s school this morning. But I’m sure Finn can help you figure out your rental car situation too.”

A bubble of something like uncertainty rose in her throat at the thought of navigating this town on her own. Of course, she knew it was the size of a postage stamp. And sure, she’d found her way through a hundred international cities. But always she’d had a map as close as the tap of her finger.

This time she wasalonealone.

Except for the people here who insisted on helping her.

She swallowed at the worry, but it only seemed to grow.

Just fake it until you make it.

That had been her motto when she’d booked her first flight out of Phoenix. And it hadn’t changed, whether it was holding her head high and walking with a purpose through an unfamiliar airport or using the two semesters of French she barely remembered in Paris.

Fake it until you make it.

She’d keep moving forward into the unknown until it made sense, until she was confident in the next step. Until then, she’d hold her head high and pretend she knew what she was doing.

Plastering a smile on her face, she forced out a perky, “I’ll go see him in a little bit, then.”

“Can I get you something to eat? Our kitchen isn’t officially open, but you can help yourself, or I can get you...”

“Mom’s real good at toast.”

Marie shushed Julia Mae with a chuckle, but Cretia jumped in before she could continue. “I’m fine.”

Marie hoisted her youngest out of the wooden high chair and set her on the floor. “Okay. We’ll be back this afternoon. Feel free to come and go as you like through the back door.”Nodding toward a folded yellow flannel sitting on the edge of the counter, she added, “Will you take Finn his shirt while you’re over there?”

The shirt he’d literally given Cretia off his back when even her bones had been shivering.

“Sure. But you’ll have to point me in the right direction.”

“Go through the intersection and past the bakery on your left. You can’t miss it. Smells like cinnamon and sugar from heaven. Finn’s is the green farmhouse across from the Kane Dairy sign.”

Following Marie’s directions, Cretia had no problem finding the bakery—and making a mental note to come back to it. Indeed, it did smell like heaven, and her stomach growled as she imagined the treats coming from its ovens.

She’d decided a walk sounded nice after being inside most of the day before, and the flat road didn’t bother her ankle much as she ambled past the gray house set up on a little hill. She lifted her nose for another sniff, and the sun’s rays made her skin tingle.

As she strolled out of the bakery’s reach, her mind wandered to thirty minutes before and the useless pile of rice in the bottom of the bucket. She’d pretty much written off her electronics the night before, but she’d checked for a miracle just in case. Her phone screen had barely flickered when she tried to turn it on. And her laptop hadn’t done any better.

Her tablet at least had pretended to turn on, the screen blinking a few times—though mostly green lines. Then it froze. No poking, prodding, or cajoling could bring it back to life.

She’d seriously considered throwing it across the kitchen for the pure satisfaction of watching it explode against a wall. But she wouldn’t repay Marie’s kindness by risking any damage to her pristine kitchen—every white cabinet spotless and tiled counter wiped clean. Marie had joked about her own cooking skills—or lack thereof—but everything about her kitchen screamed that it was loved and cared for. There were no stacks of dirty dishes in the sink. No slices of moldy bread by the stove. No overflowing trash bags in the corner.

This was the kitchen she’d dreamed of as a child. Just like the ones she’d seen on the DIY TV shows.

Instead of throwing her tablet, Cretia had dropped it back in the bucket, gathered up Finn’s shirt from the counter, and marched past the wall of shelves across from the coats in the mudroom and out the door.

By the time Cretia cleared the memories from in front of her eyes, there were only pine trees and hayfields in front of her. The two-lane road continued, dipping and twisting, but there was no telling where it led. No sign of the promised dairy farm or Finn’s green house.

She’d probably been too lost in her thoughts and taken a wrong turn. Must have.

But when she whipped around, she realized she’d walked right by it all. The big white house next to a Kane Dairy sign that proudly announced “North Rustico’s Favorite Cheese” beside a stack of yellow wheels. A red arrow on the grass-green wood pointed toward a small structure added to the end of the white barn. The neon sign in the window read “Open.”

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