Shock gave way to pleasure, her heart pounding in a different way. She hadn’t seen them in six months, since Christmas. “Looks like I need to call 9-1-1. Somebody broke into my house.”

“We used Mommy’s key!” her six-year-old grandson exclaimed, looking nervously at his mother.

Maureen laughed. “Well, it’s not a crook, after all. It’s my sweet Riley. C’mere, you.” She crouched and opened her arms.

He finally smiled as he shyly approached her. His two front teeth were missing, giving him even more of an impish look than what she could see during their twice-weekly computer-video calls. Maureen kissed him, noting his shock of blond hair was spiked with gel, a new style for him. He looked adorable. Her heart swelled as she held him close. She wished he would relax against her. They’d had too little contact through the years, and had to rebuild their relationship every time they saw each other.

“Where did you come from?” she asked before she got mushy and embarrassed herself.

“From the car, silly.”

“Can I get a hug, too?” came a hopeful voice.

“Jess, honey.” Maureen reached for her beautiful daughter. She felt sturdy and strong, for all her slenderness. The rare pleasure of holding her daughter brought the sting of tears again. “What a wonderful surprise.”

Jess was only a slightly darker blond than Riley, but they both had Maureen’s green eyes, the only physical trait she seemed to have passed on to the next generations, which was okay by her. She’d been teased all her life about her red hair. “When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“We’re having a ’venture,” Riley said.

“You are? Are you going on a safari?”

“No, silly. We came to see you!”

“I’m so happy you did.” Although curious…and wary. “You drove all the way from Seattle just to see me?” Without calling first?

“In only thirty-teen hours,” Riley announced.

Maureen looked sharply at her daughter. Like Maureen, Jess had become a single mother at seventeen. Unlike Maureen, Jess hadn’t been a model of responsibility.

“Thirteen,” Jess corrected her son. “We made plenty of stops along the way, Mom.”

The last thing Maureen wanted was an argument with her daughter, whom she usually saw only twice a year. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

“Chocolate milk and chocolate chip cookies, please,” Riley said.

“Plain milk will have to do, okay?” If I’d known you were coming…

“Okay.”

She opened the cabinet where she kept toys for Riley’s rare visits. He raced over and pulled out a basket of Hot Wheels, grabbing the three unopened packages on top. “Awesome! Mommy, look! Fire engines.”

“Cool.” Jess knelt to help him open the packages.

Maureen watched them for a few seconds. Something was up. Tension beyond the normal mother/daughter strain crackled in the air. Jess barely made eye contact, unusual for her. “In your face” was a term coined with Jess in mind.

“How about you, Jess?”

“Cookies and milk would be great, Mom. Thanks.”

Maureen retreated to her cozy kitchen, her thoughts spinning. She glanced at the refrigerator, decorated with photos and crayon drawings. She touched a fingertip to last year’s Christmas photo and the grins on their faces. Why had Jess come? What was happening? Since Jess had spirited Riley off to Seattle when he was just a few months old, she rarely initiated contact. Maureen had been the one to make plans to visit, to make ninety-five percent of the phone calls. She’d even bought them a computer with a video camera so that she and Riley could keep in touch more intimately than through phone calls.

Why are you here, Jess?

Maureen got her cookie plate down from her cupboard and took out a bakery box of the big, chewy, chocolate chip cookies she kept to satisfy Ted’s sweet tooth, then poured two glasses of milk.

“I could use a little help,” she called out, hoping to get a minute alone with her daughter, but it was Riley who popped into the kitchen.

“Those cookies are big,” he said.

“Hmm. I think you’re right. Maybe I should break them into smaller pieces and put some back?”

“No way.” He grinned.

She handed him the plate, then picked up the glasses and followed him. They sat on the floor among a city of cars already in place.

“This is the dish that Mommy painted, huh, Grandma? I can read it now. It says, ‘I love you, Mom.’”

“That’s right. She made it for me when she was twelve years old, for Mother’s Day.” When I was still a cool mom to her.

Jess slid her fingers around the circle of multicolored hearts painted around the edge. “Aunt Cherie took me to a do-it-yourself ceramics shop. We had a blast.”

“I wanna do that,” Riley mumbled, cookie crumbs spraying.

“Swallow before you talk, bud.”

Maureen took advantage of the opportunity. “Maybe the shop is still in business. How long are you staying?”

“I’m not sure yet, Mom.”

“No idea? A day? A week? A month?” she added in a teasing tone.

“I really don’t know.”

An open-ended visit? Now Maureen was really worried.

A long silence followed, until Riley finished his cookie and yawned. “Mommy, I’m tired.”