Lucy shrugged. “A while. Mom, someone keeps walking past the window.” My heart jumped. I crossed the motel room and pulled the beige curtain back just an inch. A familiar silver sedan was parked beside my car. Before I could say anything, someone knocked softly three times—the exact way my mother used to knock on my bedroom door when I was little.

I opened the door with the chain still attached. Mom stood outside in her winter coat, her hair uncombed, carrying a grocery bag filled with cereal and milk. Her old blue suitcase rested on the sidewalk behind her. “I called every motel on this highway,” she said. Then her voice broke. “Thirty-one years ago, I caught your father cheating. He told me to stop being dramatic and try again. I listened.” She looked straight into my eyes. “I won’t watch you do the same.”

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