Rosa shouldered open the side door to her mom’s house. She dropped the groceries she’d picked up from the superstore twenty minutes from town on the counter and placed the meds on the kitchen table. “Mom?”

“I’m up. Do you need help?”

“No. I’ve got it. I’ve got a couple more loads.”

By the time she finished bringing in what was left in the car, her mom was bustling around the kitchen, putting away what had already been brought in. As she went to grab the personal items Mom had set to the side, she spotted the pile of books. Not just any books, but yearbooks. Hers and her mom’s from the size of the pile.

Deciding she didn’t want to relive some of the most embarrassing years of her life, she grabbed her stuff and put it away in her room before heading back to take care of the last groceries. Mom was sitting down at the table, the color of her skin heading toward pasty.

She crouched down and held her mom’s wrist. The pulse of blood fluttered under her fingers. “Are you all right?”

Mom waved a hand in front of her face. “I’ll be fine. Just a little winded. Maybe a little dizzy.”

Rosa didn’t remember much about her dad, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t the parent she’d inherited her stubbornness from. “Let me get you some water.”

Rosa grabbed a glass from the cabinet next to the sink and filled it. The afternoon light coming in from the kitchen window caught the cut pattern in the heavy glass. She remembered how proud Mom had been when she’d brought it and a couple others home from the flea market. She’d claimed it showed her nose for a great deal. Rosa chalked it up to the fact they could rarely afford new.

Pushing away old hurts, she put the glass down within easy reach. “When I ran into Mrs. Stroman at the pharmacy, she mentioned that they’re doing a fundraiser for you.”

“Oh, Elaine.” Mom shook her head, but instead of talking more about it, she took the water.

“Mom. Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten so bad?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I’m still your mother.”

Rosa bit back the instinctive, and juvenile, response. She hadn’t been a teenager for years, but bring her back to Denning and this house? She might as well have never graduated high school, let alone college and a graduate program.

“Tell me about the fundraiser.”

“It’s nothing. Just the usual they have when someone in the community is in need. We all help our neighbors, and it’s my turn right now.”

Rosa closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. “What about the trust? Don’t you have anything left? I know I was a kid when Grandma died, but I clearly remember being in the room when she told you it should last you the rest of your life.”

Mom sighed. “There’s some left, but not enough to cover everything. I had to spend some of it for your college education.”

She said it matter-of-factly, but Rosa couldn’t fight the burn of guilt. If only she’d known…but no one could tell the future. Let alone that her mother would be would develop a degenerative brain condition. She rubbed at a worn spot in the table’s finish. “Are you still up for the research study?”

“Possibly. But they’re still evaluating my case. And that won’t cover all of my expenses.”

Rosa closed her eyes again. If she’d been back in College Park, she could have gone for a run on any of the trails she used over the years. Hell, she could have parked herself in one of the campus bars and drowned her sorrows—such as they were. But, no. She was here to help care for her mom for the summer, and hopefully get her enrolled in the research study by the time Rosa was ready to head out. Speaking of which, she needed to check on new hits for job openings. Project manager jobs for women with a master’s in civil engineering didn’t just fall out of the sky. She’d also have to look for some new election volunteer postings to pad out her resume for this employment “break.” Reviewing one candidate’s urban planning policy proposals was not going to be enough. Besides, when the candidate had written back asking clarifying questions, she’d been filled with a sense of satisfaction and purpose she hadn’t felt in too long.

“Enough about all of this. I want you to look through the yearbooks with me.”

“Mom. I do not want to look through old yearbooks.”

“Rosa Elaine Donnelly. You are going to be here, and you need to remember your manners when you run into people.”

“I’m never rude to people.”

The beady-eyed stare was the same one she’d gotten when she’d claimed to have no idea why there were no cookies left in the cookie jar. “This is still a small town, Rosa.”

“Fine, I’m still the fuck up I always was. How about I just not go out in public. It’ll be easier.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “I still don’t know what on Earth gave you the idea you were a fuck up as you so politely put it.”

Rosa hunched her shoulders, but before she could say anything, Mom continued on.

“I got compliments all the time on how well-behaved you were and how you were a shining star destined for good things. And, look, now you’ve got a master’s degree, and I know you’re going to run your own company one day if you want. You’re even getting involved in political matters.” She reached out and squeezed Rosa’s arm. “I am so proud of you. It’s good to have you home again. Now let’s look through those yearbooks so I can catch you up on what I know.”

Rosa bit her tongue and stood to get the books from the counter. The faster she got through them, the faster she could get to her own work. The one saving grace was that because she was five years younger than Ian, they had never overlapped in school—so she didn’t have to relive any of his feats. And there were many, as he’d been a legend by the time she’d started at DHS. A legend in baseball, legend in basketball, hell, an academic legend as he’d managed to graduate as the class salutatorian. But the lack of pictures of Ian didn’t deter her mom from recounting everything he’d been doing in the intervening years.

“I know, Mom. You told me about him taking over the company when it happened.”

“Did you know that he’s been getting press attention for those newsletters he sends out?”

“Yes. You told me that, too.”

“Both of you have grown up to become wonderful people. Living up to the ideals Elaine and I raised you both with. If it wasn’t for this damn diagnosis, I’d be out there marching with you. I’m sure you’ll miss being near DC for all of the marches.”

Rosa blew out a breath. “I’m working in other ways, Mom. We don’t have to be marching all of the time.”

Mom winked. “I know, honey. But marching’s so much fun.” The spark in her eyes was like it had been back in the day—when she’d been off to protest something or other at City Hall or the statehouse. It gave Rosa hope.

The phone on the wall trilled. “I’ll get it.” She picked it up from the base and turned to watch Mom flipping through yearbook pages. “Hello?”

“Oh, good. Rosa. Ian will be there soon. I want you to work with him on the fundraiser.”

“What?”

“Sorry, but I’m out with Roger. Give Lottie my love. Bye.”

When the dial tone rang in her ear, she held the phone out and stared at it.

“Who was it, honey?”

“Mrs. Stroman. I think she said Ian’s on his way here?”

Even as she finished the question, the doorbell rang. Ian. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath, fighting back the panic that stirred in her stomach. The doorbell rang again. Why couldn’t fate be kinder to her and stop throwing her life’s greatest humiliation in her path? And why did the first time she’d seen him again in years have to be the day where Elaine was bailing them out of financial danger once again? One more breath and she went to open the door to him. “Hi. Your mom just called.”

His smile seemed easy, but he had his sunglasses on, so she couldn’t tell for sure. “She sent me over here to coordinate with you.”

“So she said. Come on in. I guess.”

“I can come back later.”

“No. Now’s as good a time as any.”

She didn’t move far enough out of the way, and his arm brushed against hers as he came in. She shivered and chalked it up to the air conditioning. Even though the A/C had never been that efficient in her memory.

“Oh, damn it!”

“Excuse me.” Rosa raced back to the kitchen and found her mom trying to sop up water before it hit the yearbooks. She tossed the ones closest to the spill onto the counter. She grabbed what towels were left in the drawer and threw them onto the table.

With Ian’s help, she had the water mopped up and the two yearbooks that had gotten damp drying with paper towels between the soaked pages in short order.

“Rosa, stick them out on the back porch. It’s supposed to be dry tonight. And put a weight on them so they don’t warp.”

“Yes, Mom.”

By the time she came back to the kitchen, her mom’s color had gone from lightly pasty to completely white. “You should rest, Mom.”

Her mother’s face was drawn as she nodded. “You’re right. I’ll lie down for a bit.”

“Want me to help?” Ian rubbed Mom’s shoulder.

Rosa shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

As they walked down the hall to the back bedroom, she wondered if she should have some handrails installed. She wouldn’t be home all the time, and having something to grip would maybe reduce the possibility of Mom falling.

Home? Yeah, she thought of this house as a home. Hard not to with Mom making it as cozy of a nest as possible. But Denning? Even while growing up, she’d never felt like Denning was home. She’d dreamed of moving to a bigger city for as long as she had memories. Now, even if she wanted to move back full-time, she didn’t think she’d be able to find a job that would pay enough to help her afford her mom’s care.

She helped Mom into the queen bed and made sure she was tucked under the light quilt that had topped the bed for as long as Rosa could remember. She patted down the quilt to smooth out the wrinkles.

Mom reached out and squeezed Rosa’s hand. “Put on some Eagles for me.”

“Sure.” She dialed up the greatest hits album on the old iPod and hit play. Closing the door behind her, she leaned her forehead against it. She had to face it. Mom’s condition was never going to get better. If she wanted to move away again, she’d need to make sure there was someone around to provide assistance. It was a glass of water today, but what would it be tomorrow?

When she heard throat clearing behind her, she turned to find Ian, hands in his back pockets, in the doorway from the living room. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. She’s going to be out for a bit. You may as well stick around.”

His eyes flicked to the door and back to her. “I mean it, Rosa. I don’t want to intrude if you need to get stuff done.”

“Ian. Don’t argue with me. I’ve got enough to deal with.” She knew she was probably overreacting, but seeing him again had every mortifying memory involving him flooding her mind.

She brushed past him, ignoring the thrill that shot through her when their skin touched. It was only because it had been a while since she’d been with a guy. Not because she was finally touching her childhood crush skin-to-skin. There was nothing going on. Could be nothing going on.

He stopped her with a light touch on her shoulder. “Rosa. If you need help with anything—day to day, that is—let me know. Lottie is like an aunt to me.”

She shrugged and he released her. “What exactly do you need from me?”

“Mom wants me to get an accounting of her bills so we know how much we need to try and raise beyond her initial estimates.”

Rosa froze as she was about to enter the kitchen. “Of course you do.”

“What do you mean by that?” His tone was wary. As it should be.

She turned to face him. “Just that the Donnellys are once again relying on the Stromans to bail them out of the financial jailhouse.”

His brow lowered as he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know how often your mom would send my mom checks. Always at the end of the month when the allowance from the trust had run out and Mom had sent the last bit she’d saved for groceries to some political action group.” Even Rosa heard the bitterness in her words, but she couldn’t regret it. She’d been in therapy long enough to know that there were some things you had to let out—lance the wound before it festered too long.

It was a wonder that she had any desire to get involved in activism. But her mom had been right. She’d been raised with ideals, and those ideals were under constant attack these days.

Ian opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the ring of a phone. “Damn it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

“Sure.”

He went out the side door. She grabbed the glass from the table and added it to the pile of dishes sitting in the sink. Since she didn’t have anything better to do, she ran the water and began washing them. Not that it gave her the opportunity to study him as he paced up and down the driveway or anything.

He’d been a basketball star in high school and gotten a college scholarship for it despite barely topping six feet. He’d grown into that lanky body and still had the leanness of someone who worked out regularly. At one point, he stopped pacing and his head hung down. Whoever was on the other end of that call did not have good news for him.

When he finally hung up, he stood in the driveway, staring at the garage. She began to think he’d stand there the rest of the night, but he shook his head and came back in.

“Everything okay?”

“No. I’m sure you’ll hear it soon enough now that you’re back, and gossip like this isn’t going to stay quiet. That was my attorney. We’ve got a business contract that’s in danger, and my cousin is threatening to take over the company.”

“What?”

His laugh was hollow. “Because I’ve been too political.”

“The newsletters? How are those too political? You’ve only been saying what a lot of people believe but don’t have the guts or platform to say.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to go deal with this. Can you take a rain check on the bills?”

“Sure.”

He looked at his phone and swiped it open. “I’m free tomorrow for lunch. Can you bring all the bills you can find and we can meet at Mialy’s Café?”

“The new one on the square?”

“If by ‘new,’ you mean ‘five years,’ yeah.”

“Sure.” He turned to head back out but stopped in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re back, Rosa.”

She didn’t say anything but watched him as he walked away. Ian Stroman was a fixture of Denning. He would never leave and people would always look to him for direction. She admired him for standing up the way he was. She reminded herself of Mom’s care and being able to afford it. Getting hooked on Ian again would only lead to heartbreak when she had to leave.