up behind her. Once again they’d let her set the pace, and in the last moments of their run, she’d surged ahead, moved by something deliciously familiar.
Her inner athlete reemerging at last.
Marc whooped. “Nice work, Angela! That was your first ten-minute mile. Incredible progress.” He held up his hand for a high five.
She slapped his palm. “Thanks. It feels good.” Even though her muscles and lungs burned, there was something rewarding about the feeling. The weather this evening had turned slightly cold, and as she leaned into a lunge, she started to feel the prickles on her skin, her sweat evaporating.
Eva smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Great job.” She hadn’t been the same since the zip-line incident two days ago, and a flat voice had replaced her normally bubbly one.
Angela should reach out, say something comforting. But fear tugged on her vocal cords anytime she attempted it. If she wasn’t 100 percent firm with Eva, her sister-in-law was liable to pull another crazy stunt.
And Angela had had enough crazy stunts pulled around her.
If she’d put her foot down with Wes . . .
No. She wouldn’t go there. Right now she would allow herself to feel good about something, even if it was the fact she’d run the last three miles of their course today without stopping. Okay, jogged. But still. It was something.
“Thanks. You too.”
They finished stretching and walked into the house, immediately met with the delicious enticement of Sherry’s famous lasagna. Her mother-in-law stood at the counter slicing tomatoes.
“Something smells amazing.” Marc headed to the sink and washed his hands, rubbing them dry on a dish towel. “How can I help?”
Eva followed suit. “Yes, what can we do?”
Sherry shooed them away. “Have a glass of wine on the deck. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready. Probably another fifteen minutes.”
“Forget wine. There’s enough time for a hot chocolate.” Marc elbowed Eva, who rolled her eyes and groaned. “All right, wine it is.”
As Marc pulled a few glasses from the cupboard, a grin stretching across his face, Eva selected a red wine.
Angela took the opportunity to approach Sherry.
“You are amazing.” She gave Sherry a squeeze on the shoulders, which was met with a look of surprise. Sherry quickly covered her reaction.
Clearing her throat, Angela leaned against the counter. “Are the kids in their rooms? I’ll have them come set the table.”
“Zach and Lilly are, but Kylee asked to go to Alistair’s with Daisy for a quick coffee. I know you’ve let her go before, so I said it would be fine. I hope that’s all right.”
“Yes, of course.” It wasn’t easy to let her teenager have her freedom, but after being here a month, Angela had begun to feel much more comfortable about letting her do some things on her own in the small town. Besides, she’d grown tired of fighting with Kylee. She had to remind herself frequently that her daughter had never done anything to prove that she wasn’t worthy of trust. “I’ll call her to let her know dinner will be ready soon.”
The call went to voice mail. Hmm. Her daughter’s phone was an appendage, never more than an arm’s reach away. Perhaps the coffee shop was louder than usual. Sometimes they had live music going on the weekends.
Angela headed upstairs and rushed through a shower in two minutes, dressing in a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized tunic. When she rejoined Sherry in the kitchen, Kylee still hadn’t returned, and another call went to voice mail. “I’m going to walk to Alistair’s to grab Kylee. If dinner is ready and everyone else is hungry, don’t wait. We’ll be back soon enough.”
A brisk five-minute walk and she arrived at the classy coffee shop. Entering, she took quick inventory. Patrons swarmed the counter and the seating area was packed, but the girls weren’t there.
A chill ran up Angela’s spine. Where are they?
Despite the many customers waiting to order, Angela approached the barista at the counter, who was patiently standing by for the portly gentleman at the front of the line to tell her what he wanted. Her name tag reminded Angela her name was Vange. “Excuse me.”
The young girl with a lip ring and spiked hair turned her direction. “Angela, right? How are you?”
“I’m okay. Listen, have you seen my daughter Kylee? She was supposed to be here.” Angela pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
Vange’s eyebrow rose, and she pointed. “She’s right there.”
Relief flooded Angela’s whole body, and her gaze followed Vange’s