Page 80 of The Cul-de-Sac War

Her mother pursed her lips then, and Bree knew she was struggling between chastising her for looking into men’s windows and celebrating that they were one step closer to matrimony.

Apparently she settled on glee, as her eyes started glimmering. “Well. Chip. Isn’t that nice to hear you’re so connected to your family. Family supper. We have those as well, only on Saturdays.”

“Really?” Chip said. “So you had one yesterday?”

Clearly it was the wrong question, because her mother’s and Dan’s expressions shifted. “Oh, not yesterday. We had a bit of a”—her mother’s eyes darted away from Bree—“family emergency.”

Bree stopped halfway in the act of unrolling her napkin.

“But we’re confident that it will all smooth out soon.” Her mother paused. Bit her lip. “Lord willing.”

“What’s wrong?” Bree said, her words swift and low.

Bree watched as Mom took a breath. Exhaled. “Anna’s back in Knoxville. They’re considering . . .” She hesitated. “Transferring to Memphis.”

“To St. Jude’s?” Bree felt panic and release at the same time. She’d been trying to get her sister-in-law to transfer Anna to St. Jude’s since the diagnosis. For six months Daria had fought it. Saying Anna’s condition was serious but not dire. That traveling to Knoxville’s Children’s Hospital would be hard enough. That it was better for Anna to recover at home, where she belonged. That keeping her life as close to normal was important, more important than traveling across the state and turning their lives upside down, far away from everyone.

But what was happening now? What had happened that was so awful to make Daria change her mind?

The thought made Bree sick, and the stench of the food around them was too much.

“I’m actually feeling a bit under the weather,” Bree said, the booth suddenly claustrophobic.

“Oh honey,” her mother began. “We didn’t mean to—”

“I’m fine,” Bree said, nudging Chip’s shoulder. “It’s fine. I just need to lie down. I’ll call Daria when I get home.”

Chip slid out of the seat, moving well back in order to let her stand. He opened his mouth as he looked to the door, and if she hadn’t known better, she might have said he had true concern in his eyes. It was clear he had no idea what was going on.

“I can drive you home.”

“No.” Bree shook her head. The crowd swelled. Bodies were everywhere. The banjo player struck a chord, and the speaker screamed in her ears. “No, you guys go on and eat.” Bree was walking backward now. “Thank you for coming tonight. This was really—” She bumped into a waiter.

Finally, Bree spun toward the exit and escaped.

A breeze rolled down Main Street and lifted her hair, and she took what felt like the first breath in two minutes. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket, but she turned it off. And began to walk.

Chapter 16

Chip

Chip sat across from her parents through the meal, each of them mumbling a polite yet awkward word of sympathy about Bree’s sudden sickness, then proceeding to talk ten minutes longer than Chip would have thought possible about the type of barbecue sauce they preferred on their meat. When that topic ran out of steam they turned to tools, and for the rest of the meal Chip and Dan went through every tool in Dan’s shed, down to the Japanese ryoba saw.

The three of them did everything in their power to pretend the situation did not exist, but when they walked back to Mr. and Mrs. Leake’s car, Bree’s mother crouched down and tucked herself into the passenger seat.

“Here,” Dan said, pressing his business card into Chip’s hand. “This is my number. It’s always good to share your family’s emergency contacts with neighbors.”

Wow. They really were worried about her.

“Of course,” Chip said, putting it into his pocket and reciprocating with his own. “In case you ever need to reach Bree and are having trouble.”

A smile slipped up Dan’s face. “Or I need some more dog tips.”

Chip smiled back. “Sure. Or dog tips.”

A few minutes later, Chip pulled into the cul-de-sac and then his driveway. As he turned the engine off, he saw that Bree’s place was completely dark. The porch was lightless, and even Evie’s car was gone, leaving only a shadowy spot of driveway in its place.

He unlocked his door quietly. Moved toward the kitchen.