"I...I suppose we could go a bit farther," Ruth murmured after a while. "I'm anxious to get to Florida."

"Have you heard from anyone there?" Bethanne asked.

"Just Jane and Diane."

"Wow, fifty years," Annie said. "That's a long time."

"It is." Ruth nodded slowly. "The funny thing is, it doesn't seem that long ago-it really doesn't."

"How many years has it been for you, Mom?"

"Let me see. I graduated in..." Bethanne quickly calculated the years, astonished that it'd been twenty-nine years since she'd left high school. "Twenty-nine years," she whispered, hardly able to believe it.

"Did you ever go to your reunions?"

Annie certainly seemed to be in an inquisitive mood. "No. Your father-" Bethanne paused, about to lay the blame at Grant's feet. While it was true that Grant hadn't been enthusiastic about attending her high school functions-or, for that matter, his own-she'd consented. She could've gone by herself, and hadn't. It wasn't like Eugene, Oregon, was all that far from Seattle. "No, I never did," she said.

Her father, an English professor now retired, had taught at the University of Oregon. Her mother had died a couple of years ago. Bethanne was proud of the way her father coped with being a widower. Despite his grief he hadn't given up on life; in fact, he was currently in England with a group of students on a Shakespearean tour.

They spoke and emailed regularly, and she'd recently learned that he was dating. Her father had a more active social life than she did, which actually made her smile.

"Wasn't Dad born in Oregon?" Annie asked.

"Yes, in Pendleton," Ruth confirmed. "Richard and I were newlyweds, and he was working on a big engineering project there. I don't remember exactly what it was now. We moved around quite a bit the first few years we were married."

"How far is Pendleton from here?"

"Oh, dear, I wouldn't know."

"I'd like to see the town where Dad was born," Annie said. "Couldn't we spend the night there instead?" She reached for her phone again. "It would mean we'd need to change our route, but it wouldn't be that much out of our way."

"We were only in Pendleton for the first year of his life," Ruth said.

"Do you have any friends living there?" Annie pressed, but before Ruth could answer, she asked another question. "I'll bet it's been ages since you connected with them, isn't it?"

"Well, that was forty-nine years ago. I'm sure they've moved on."

"What are their names?" Annie's fingers were primed and ready as she held her cell phone. "I'll look them up and find out for you."

"Annie," Bethanne warned. Her daughter seemed to be taking control of the trip.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up and we can spend the night in Spokane and sit around the hotel room all afternoon."

Bethanne cast Ruth an apologetic look.

"I had a friend by the name of Marie Philips." Ruth's voice was tentative, uncertain. "She was married and a young mother herself. Her parents owned a small cafe on the outskirts of town. I'm sure it's long gone by now."

"We need to eat, don't we?" Annie said triumphantly.

"The cafe might not even be in business anymore," Bethanne felt obliged to remind her.

"Is her name listed on that computer phone of yours?" Ruth asked, sounding more interested by the minute.

Bethanne could hear Annie typing away.

"P-h-i-l-i-p-s?" Annie spelled it out. "With one L? L?"

"Yes. The cafe was where the bus stopped, too. They served the most wonderful home cooking. Marie was a real friend to me, but we lost contact after Richard and I moved."

"What was the name of the cafe?"

"Oh, dear." Ruth shook her head. "I don't remember, but I do know where it is...or was."

"So, can I see the town where Dad was born?" Annie asked eagerly. "Even if we spend the night in Spokane, I'd still like to visit Pendleton."

"I don't see why we couldn't," Ruth said, apparently catching Annie's enthusiasm. "My goodness, I haven't thought of Marie in years. She had a son around the same age as Grant. I wonder what became of him. Marie had an older boy, as well. Like I said, she was so helpful to me. She's one of those salt-of-the-earth people." Ruth seemed immersed in her memories.

Bethanne continued driving in silence. They pa.s.sed Ellensburg and were headed toward the bridge that spanned the mighty Columbia River, on the way to Moses Lake. All of this was familiar territory. If they made the decision to go to Pendleton, they'd need to change course after crossing the bridge.

Annie was still typing. "The Pendleton directory lists a Marie Philips."

"It does?" Ruth's voice rose excitedly. "Let's call her."

Annie called and left a message on the woman's voice mail. When she'd finished, she asked, "Do you want me to see about changing our hotel reservations?"

"I've already made a deposit at the hotel in Spokane," Ruth lamented.

Bethanne hated to admit it, but even she was disappointed. She was enjoying the drive and it did seem a waste of time to arrive in Spokane for lunch and call it a day.

"It's a chain hotel," Annie said. "If there's one in Pendleton, I bet they can switch reservations without a penalty."

Ruth was quiet for a moment. "Okay, call and see if the hotel is willing to do that."

"When you're ready, give me the phone number."

Ruth rattled it off. Annie got through right away and made the arrangements. She disconnected, saying, "Done. The manager told me it wasn't a problem."

"That's great," Bethanne said, pleased her daughter was so technologically savvy. She had the same phone as Annie and Grant but couldn't do nearly as much with it. The problem was that she hadn't made the effort to learn. It seemed that whenever she got comfortable with her phone, it was time to upgrade and she'd have to learn a whole new process.

"I wonder what Marie's doing these days," Ruth said thoughtfully.

"Well, we'll find out," Annie responded.

"We can have a light lunch when we hit the Tri-cities," Bethanne suggested, "and once we reach Pendleton we can look for the cafe your friend's family owned."

"I'd like that," Ruth said, "but we all know there's no guarantee the cafe will still be there."

"Right, but we can look, can't we?" Annie said. "Then, after we eat, can you show me the house you lived in when Dad was born?"

"Sure thing," Ruth said, "but again you have to remember that was a long time ago."

Bethanne didn't understand Annie's sudden interest in her father's birthplace. Ruth, however, seemed happy to stroll down memory lane. Annie was encouraging her, and this exchange of questions and anecdotes was probably good for both of them.

Annie's cell phone rang when they stopped for lunch in Richland. They found a chain restaurant off the freeway and each ordered soup.

"Oh, hi, Dad," Annie said, and her gaze immediately went to Bethanne. "Yeah, we're in Richland." She smiled and added, "We made good time. Mom's driving-and guess what?"

Bethanne was determined not to listen, but she couldn't avoid hearing Annie's side of the conversation.

"Mom's right here. Do you want to talk to her?"

Bethanne shook her head vigorously. Annie ignored her reaction and handed over the cell.

Reluctantly, Bethanne accepted it. "h.e.l.lo, Grant," she said without enthusiasm.

"You turned your cell phone off," he said, although his words lacked any real censure.

"I'm driving," she pointed out. The rental car didn't have a Bluetooth connection.

"That's what Annie said."

Silence.

"How's it going so far?"

"Fine." She resisted telling him that they'd left just that morning and were only about two hundred miles from Seattle.

"What's this I hear about you spending the night in Pendleton? Did you know I was born there?"

If she'd forgotten, she'd received plenty of reminders in the past few hours. "Annie mentioned it." Bethanne wondered if Grant had put their daughter up to this. She was well aware that Annie had her own agenda. But then, perhaps she was becoming paranoid.

"I hoped you'd call and check in every now and then," he said in a hurt-little-boy voice that was meant to elicit sympathy.

"You should talk to Annie or your mother," she told him. "If you'd like, I'll remind Ruth to check in with you or Robin every day so you can rest a.s.sured that all is well."

"Yes, please do."

"Here's your mother." She pa.s.sed the phone across the booth to her mother-in-law.

Annie waited until their soup arrived before she spoke. "Honestly, Mom, you could be a bit friendlier to Dad."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You know how he feels."

Bethanne did. "This is about more than feelings, Annie."

"At least let him prove himself. You don't need to be so..." She couldn't seem to find the right word. "Unfriendly," she said, repeating herself.

"Did I sound short with your father?" she asked.

"A little."

Bethanne looked at Ruth, who shrugged. "Just a tad, honey."

Bethanne exhaled and forced herself to remember that she was traveling with two of his staunchest advocates.

"Is there any possibility the two of you might reconcile?" her ex-mother-in-law asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Of course there's a chance," Annie answered on Bethanne's behalf. "There's always a chance, right, Mom?"

Bethanne took her time answering, apparently longer than Annie liked, because both her daughter and Ruth stopped eating and stared at her intently. "Yes, I suppose there is," she finally agreed.

Seven.

"Look, the cafe's still there!" Ruth called from the backseat. Annie had been driving since Richland, with Bethanne knitting beside her. Ruth leaned forward, thrilled about the opportunity to see her old friend again. When she'd met Marie, she'd been pregnant, away from family and friends, and in a marriage that hadn't started out in the most positive way.

They'd moved to Pendleton because that was where Richard's first job was. He'd wanted to make a good impression on his employer; he'd been young, ambitious and eager to prove his worth. Her husband of less than a year had worked long days, abandoning Ruth to countless hours alone in a rental house in this town where she didn't know a single soul. Meeting her neighbor, Marie, had been a lifesaver. Ruth had needed a friend, a connection with someone. She hadn't really been prepared for the pregnancy, and she suffered from violent bouts of nausea that lasted through most of the day.

Not only did Marie become her friend, she'd taken Ruth under her wing, recommended her own obstetrician and driven Ruth to and from her first few appointments. She'd shared baby clothes and maternity outfits with her. Best of all, she'd taken time for long afternoon chats, despite the fact that she had children of her own and often helped her parents at the roadside restaurant.

Ruth had lived in Pendleton for only a couple of years, but she never forgot Marie, even though her own life had changed-and improved-soon after. The effort to stay in touch lasted several Christmases but eventually they'd lost contact. Still, Marie's friendship had brought her comfort and support all those years ago.

The cafe sat back from the road, surrounded by a gravel parking lot, just outside the Pendleton city limits. The white paint had long since grown dingy, and the windows looked like they hadn't been cleaned in months. A sign out front announced Home Cooking.

"Looks like it's still in business," Ruth said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

I told told you this was a good idea," Annie said. "You're glad we came this way, aren't you, Grandma?" you this was a good idea," Annie said. "You're glad we came this way, aren't you, Grandma?"

"Very glad," she said, and it was true.

"The sign on the building says it's Marie's Cafe," Annie pointed out.

"She must've taken over from her parents," Ruth commented. She grabbed her purse and was practically out of the car before Annie had pulled to a complete stop. She didn't wait for the others.

The cafe door creaked as she opened it-and then came to an abrupt halt. It was as if she'd stepped back fifty years. The cafe was the same as she remembered, right down to the aluminum paper napkin dispensers and the tabletop jukeboxes. The booths had the identical red vinyl upholstery, but surely the seats had been recovered, probably more than once. The plastic-covered menus were tucked behind the ketchup and mustard containers, which stood next to the salt and pepper shakers.

More afternoons than she could recall, Ruth had sat in one of these very booths with her infant son at her side as she drank a cherry soda and talked over life's challenges with her friend.

At one stage, soon after Grant's birth, Ruth had been ready to admit her marriage was a huge mistake. She wanted to end it. Marie had listened and been sympathetic to her tales of woe. Richard spent so little time with her and their son that Ruth was convinced he didn't love her, that he never really had. Their marriage was a sham, she'd told her friend, and it was better to own up to her mistake and get out now before their lives became even more complicated.

Marie didn't attempt to talk her out of her decision; all she'd really done was ask Ruth a few questions. As she answered, Ruth realized how important it was to do whatever she could to make this marriage work. Not only because of their son, but because marriage was supposed to be a partnership and that required something from her, too. An honest commitment, a genuine effort... In the back of her mind, and it embarra.s.sed her now to admit this, she'd felt she could always go home, back to Florida....