Hometown Reunion. Lisa Carter

out of her flip-flops, she ventured inside the house. Her mother straightened from the oven, a casserole dish cradled in her mitted hands. Coils of steam rose from the lasagna. Mouthwatering aromas permeated the kitchen.

      Agnes smiled. “I made the lasagna this morning. After talking with Shirley at the Sandpiper, I only had to reheat the pan.”

      Darcy glanced at the kitchen clock. “Kind of early for dinner.”

      Her mother placed the hot dish in a padded, insulated carrier. “Not by the time you take this out to Shirley’s house for Jaxon.”

      “Oh, no, I’m not.”

      Agnes cocked her head. “Shirley left those boys with only milk in the fridge and cereal in the pantry.”

      Hands raised, Darcy stepped back. “One of those boys is a combat veteran. He can fend for himself.”

      “But Jaxon always loved my lasagna.”

      Darcy gave her a brittle smile. “Since nobody’s seen him in fourteen years, maybe it’s the only thing he loved about his hometown.”

      Her mom’s denim-blue eyes softened.

      Darcy stiffened. She knew the look. The kill-her-with-kindness approach. She must not weaken. She must not...

      “I don’t think that’s true, Darcy.” Her mother shifted to her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look. “And what’s more, I don’t think you believe that, either.”

      “Jax can buy his own groceries. He can fix his own dinner. He doesn’t need our help.”

      “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Agnes’s mouth quirked. “Jaxon will have his hands full getting settled into his new home tonight. Think of his son.”

      Adorable Brody Pruitt was the last person she wanted to think about. No, that wasn’t true. Brody’s father was the last person she wanted to think about.

      Her mother gestured next door. “With his parents out of town, they probably haven’t had a decent meal yet.”

      “Jax looked just fine to me.”

      “Did he now?” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.

      “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Darcy bit her lip.

      Agnes placed a container of pimento cheese into a wicker basket. “They’re both too skinny. Especially Brody. He’s a growing boy. He needs to eat.”

      Darcy folded her arms. “Why don’t you take it to them?”

      “Your father would want to make sure Jaxon and his little orphan son were properly welcomed home...”

      It was all Darcy could do not to roll her eyes at the word orphan. But being the dutiful daughter she’d always been, she didn’t. PKs—preacher’s kids—never behaved disrespectfully.

      Then her beloved mother played her last, most effective card.

      “I guess when your dad returns...” Agnes placed a bunch of bananas in the basket. “Although your father usually tries to rest before his busiest day of the week. But we could drop everything... Head out there...” She emitted a long-drawn-out sigh.

      Darcy thrust out her hand. “Just give me the basket, Mom. I’ll take it out there, already.”

      Her mother beamed. “How nice of you to offer.”

      Darcy snorted. Not only unladylike, but also very unPK.

      Her mother’s unique blend of strong-armed gentleness would have made her a superb peace negotiator. But perhaps as a pastor’s wife, that’s exactly what she was—navigating the not-always-serene waters of Kiptohanock life.

      Agnes removed a pie from the refrigerator. “Shirley tells me you still need to brief Jaxon on the map route for the upcoming excursion.”

      “How did you—?” Darcy glanced at the old-fashioned landline phone hanging on the wall. “You and Shirley were pretty sure of yourselves, weren’t you, Mom?”

      “By now, Shirl’s probably on her way to the toll plaza at the bridge.” Agnes smoothed her apron. “Don’t be angry. I felt confident you’d do the right thing. As you always do.”

      That was her. Boring, dutiful Darcy. PK extraordinaire.

      Her mother plucked a loaf of bread off the countertop. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you confronted this thing between you and Jaxon?”

      Mouth gaping, eyes wide—with horror—Darcy drew up. “There isn’t a thing between Jax and me.”

      Her mom arched her eyebrow. “Then what’s the big deal in helping him for a few months?”

      Darcy’s heart raced. “The big deal is...” She threw out her hands. “No one seems to understand that I’m the wronged one here.”

      Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me the truth. Why are you so afraid of helping Jaxon?”

      Darcy sucked in a breath. “I’m not afraid of him.”

      “No, my dear brave girl.” Her mother touched her arm. “You’re afraid of yourself.”

      She jerked free. “That’s not true.”

      “I think your father and I made the nest too cozy. But that’s no way to live, honey. It’s time to venture out. Test your wings and fly.” She placed her palm against Darcy’s cheek. “Don’t lock your heart away from the possibility of a new life.”

      Was her mom right? Was she afraid to reach for more? “Shirley told you about me moving to Florida?”

      Agnes fiddled with a tray of deli meat and sandwich rolls.

      Darcy blinked. “How long have you and Shirley been planning this ambush, Mom?”

      “Shirley came to us with the decision to sell the business to Jaxon.” Her mother gave Darcy a small smile. “A decision with which your father and I agreed. We see a lot of Shirley in you.”

      “And what’s wrong with that?” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Shirley has built a successful business.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with being independent. But at this point in her life, her choices have left her lonely. Your father and I, we want more for you.”

      “Dad is in on this, too?”

      “Your father wants to see you happy.” Moisture filled Agnes’s eyes. “God—via Shirley—has given you another opportunity.”

      “So you’d both be okay if I move to Florida?”

      Her mother gave a slow nod. “If Florida will make you truly happy.”

      Almost Shirley’s exact words.

      “Did moving to the parsonage make you truly happy, Mom?”

      Agnes gripped the basket handle. “It did.” But her mouth tightened.

      They were Harold Parks’s second family. Thirty-five years ago, his first wife and son had tragically died in a car accident. Something Darcy’s father never spoke about. Her mother, either.

      His replacement wife. His runner-up family. Like Darcy with the Florida business. And she was tired of feeling like the runner-up, the consolation prize.

      Did her mother know that every August 14 her father visited the tiny cemetery outside town?

      “I’m not like you, Mom. Not everyone wants to be a wife and mother.” She lifted her chin. “I’d never be happy at the beck and call of the entire village.”

      Her mother straightened. “Maybe not. But pursuing your dreams doesn’t have to exclude loving relationships.” Her forehead puckered. “Don’t waste this chance or this summer, Darcy. For your own sake, sweetheart. Please.”

      “Your