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about the food and they’d be sent straight to their rooms.
    Henry stomped the snow off his boots and came in the kitchen door to give her the key. When Kylie thanked him, he responded with a muttered “You’re welcome.” With his parka hood pulled back, he was a handsome old man, with thick, white hair and a strong, square jaw. Always polite and helpful, he’d worked for Muriel’s late father. Kylie remembered him from when she was a little girl. But he was a private man, reserved to the point of shyness; even after so many years, he was hard to know well.
    “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you, Henry?” Muriel glanced up from stirring the stew. “There’s fresh biscuits in the oven.”
    He hesitated. “Sure you’ll have enough? Shane called. He’s bringin’ his bike by to leave in the machine shed for some bodywork. He’s liable to be hungry, too.”
    “Leaving his bike?” Muriel’s eyes widened. “Mercy, what happened to it?”
    “Seems some fool woman ran into it at Shop Mart and busted the whole front end. Shane sounded pretty sore about it.”
    Unloading grocery bags on the counter, Kylie felt her stomach lurch. A plastic milk jug slipped out of her hand and crashed to the floor. She crouched to pick it up, checking the jug for leaks and, luckily, finding none. Maybe Shane was giving her a break. At least he hadn’t told Henry who the “fool woman” had been. Or maybe he had, and it was Henry who was keeping her secret.
    Should she fess up? She glanced at her children. Amy was helping set the table. Hunter was sitting on a stool in the corner, texting on his phone. Kylie had always tried to set a good example for them. What if one of them had caused an accident? What would she want them to do?
    There was only one right answer to that question.
    She finished putting the milk in the fridge. Muriel had gone back to stirring the stew. Henry was lingering by the back door, as if uncertain whether to go or stay.
    She cleared her throat, scrambling for a way to begin. “Henry, did Shane tell you anything about the woman who wrecked his bike?” she asked.
    Henry shook his head. “He called her ‘addle-brained. ’ But he didn’t say who she was.”
    Kylie straightened her spine, squared her jaw and took a deep breath. “In that case, I have a confession to make. The ‘addle-brained fool woman’ who ran into Shane’s motorcycle was . . . me.”
    “Oh, dear!” Muriel’s spoon slid into the stew and sank beneath the bubbling surface. Henry’s jaw dropped in speechless dismay.
    “It was an accident.” Kylie was talking fast now, rushing the words. “The parking lot was a mess. I’d just backed out of my space, but there wasn’t room to straighten the car and drive away. I was maneuvering when I backed too far and hit the bike in the next row behind me.” She paused for breath. “Did Shane tell you I drove him home, and that I said my insurance would pay for it?”
    “Can’t say he took the time for that,” Henry muttered, shaking his head.
    “Goodness, dear.” Muriel looked stunned. “I can’t imagine why someone used to driving in California would have so much trouble driving here.”
    Kylie glanced at her children. Hunter was still texting, as if he hadn’t heard. But Amy stood there, clasping a handful of cutlery, with an indignant look on her face. “Aunt Muriel,” she said, “it just so happens we don’t have snow in San Diego. And we don’t have Texas drivers, either.”
    For the space of a breath, there was silence in the kitchen. Then Henry chuckled, breaking the tension. “Good for you, young lady. I like a girl who sticks up for her mother.”
    Kylie would have crossed the room and hugged her daughter, but just then a ferocious gust of wind shook the house, battering the windows and blasting the panes with snow. Above the storm’s howl, they heard the sound of a honking horn and a truck pulling into the backyard. “That’ll be Shane.” Henry raised the hood on