1 In retrospect, Taylor Lipin would consider the termite chilling on her toothbrush to be an omen. At six thirty in the morning, however, it was simply disgusting. She screamed, flung the toothbrush into the trash, and retrieved the spare she'd had the foresight to stash in her bathroom cabinet. Five minutes later, standing under the hot shower spray, she took heart in the knowledge that her day was unlikely to get any worse. By the time she stopped at the coffee shop near her office to meet her best friend, she'd mostly put the termite out of her head. Stacy had texted to say she was running late, so Taylor ordered for both of them and stepped aside as she waited for their prework caffeine infusions to be prepared. The shop smelled wonderful, a blend of coffee, sugar, and vanilla that set Taylor up for disappointment each weekday morning. In a city filled with coffee shops, she'd yet to find one that could make her favorite drink as well as the place in her hometown. Likely it had nothing to do with the quality of the beans or the baristas and everything to do with nostalgia, but that was life. A new text arrived before either Stacy or the coffee, and Taylor read it, expecting a second update from her friend. Instead it was from her sister, and that was when Taylor recalled both the termite and that old saying about what happens when you make assumptions. Emergency. About Mom. Call me soon. The chaotic chatter of dozens of voices, the hiss of the espresso machine, the barely audible beat from whatever song was being pumped through the shop's speakers-it all dissolved beneath the thudding of Taylor's heart as she read the message a second time. Cool, unflappable Lydia was not prone to hysterics. Was it a heart attack? Cancer? A bad fall? "Taylor L.?" The barista calling her name snapped her out of the endless stream of morose questions. Taylor took a deep, steadying breath. If her mother was in imminent danger, surely Lydia would have called. That would be sensible, and her older sister was nothing if not sensible and dutiful. Therefore, Taylor wouldn't panic, and she'd take a sip of her coffee before calling. God knew, she'd probably need the caffeine. Since there was still no sign of Stacy, Taylor carried the drinks over to a slightly quieter corner near the entrance and dialed Lydia. Her sister picked up on the second ring, leaving the caffeine with no time to work its magic. "Taylor?" For someone who'd sent a text declaring an emergency only a minute ago, her sister seemed awfully surprised to hear from her. But Taylor was too concerned to point that out. "What happened?" "You actually called. I was hoping to catch you before work, but I didn't expect that." Lydia's incredulity required her to take another sip of her drink. "You said it's an emergency. Of course I called. What's wrong?" Lydia seemed to collect herself, and her voice returned to normal. "Mom took off." "What do you mean took off? That's not a euphemism, is it?" "What? No. She got in the car and drove. To Anchorage, I think. They're getting divorced." For a second, Taylor thought she must have heard her sister incorrectly. Mom and Dad divorced-no, it didn't make sense. Then her sister's words sank in, and confusion warred with relief. So her mother was fine, but her mother was also clearly not fine because a fine mother wouldn't be asking for a divorce. Taylor felt like the universe had slapped her. "They've been married for almost thirty-five years. This is impossible. They're so happy." She'd thought they were anyway. Lydia's tone, hinting at her lack of calls home, wasn't entirely unwarranted, but her parents had always seemed happy when she did call or during the one or two times a year when she visited. She wasn't the only one confused, though, which made Taylor feel better. "I know. I'm blindsided." Taylor glanced toward the door as a fresh wave of people entered the shop, but still no Stacy. "How's Dad handling it?" Lydia made a strangled noise. "He's acting indifferent. He's more worried about how this will affect his reelection." That made as little sense to Taylor as any of this news did. Sure, her father was as poised and reserved as Lydia, but he should show some emotion. Worrying about his next election had to be a way to deflect the pain. Divorce hadn't been a scandalous sort of thing in decades, and everyone in her hometown knew her dad. Their opinions were unlikely to be swayed at this point. "Maybe he's in shock." "Maybe, but this was two days ago." "Hold on. This happened two days ago and you waited to tell me until now?" "I wasn't sure how you'd take it." Lydia didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "So you were concerned about my reaction, and therefore decided to send me a vague and alarming text at eight in the morning? Two days!" That finally put her sister on the defensive. "Well, if you came home for more than just Christmas, I might assume you cared more. When Mom first left, I figured everything would eventually blow over so there was no point in worrying you. You could go on being blissfully ignorant of our lives." "That's low." Taylor squeezed her coffee cup so hard the plastic lid popped off, and her restless fingers fumbled as she set it on the table. "I don't get a lot of vacation time." Lydia sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. Can you come home for a week or two? I could use some help." Taylor was sympathetic. Part of her wanted nothing more than to do exactly that. Run home, hug her dad, and fret over every detail with Lydia while they consumed questionable quantities of chocolate and wine. She wanted family and security, but home for her was currently Los Angeles, and the rosy haze of her childhood memories had been ripped away with this call. Changing the state she was in wouldn't change the facts. "Remember the part about me not getting a lot of vacation time?" Taylor ran a distracted hand through her hair. "My company was bought out last week, and things are unstable at the moment. I'm not sure I could get the time off approved. I'll call Mom and Dad and offer my support, and we can talk more later." "They don't need your support. They seem to be doing just fine. I need your support, but I need it here. To help out with the inn." The Bay Song Inn was the boutique hotel her grandparents had opened back when their small town was first becoming a tourist destination in the late seventies. When her grandparents had decided to retire twenty years later, her parents took over the inn, but her father had mostly left running it to her mother and Lydia as he became more involved in town management. "You expect me to abandon my job to help with yours?" She understood her sister was in a bind, and the family business was obviously important, but Lydia was being completely unreasonable. Or so Taylor's only partially caffeinated brain was telling her. "Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious. When Mom left, I thought it was simply to find a lawyer, but it's been two days, and she's returning my calls with one-line texts telling me not to worry. As if that's possible. I checked her closet and she must have packed at least a week's worth of clothes. I can't handle the business side of the inn and the hospitality side at the same time. I don't care what kind of midlife crisis she's having; Mom's timing is awful. Tourist season has begun. We're booked solid every week through August, and with weddings most weekends." "That's . . . wow. That's amazing. Grandmother must be thrilled." "She is, but that's assuming everything doesn't go to hell because I can't handle the work by myself. Since Travel and Leisure named us one of the ten best places to get married in Alaska last year, it's been unbelievable. And I will not be the person who lets the inn get run into the ground." That honor was almost solely due to Lydia's efforts, Taylor was certain, and she didn't doubt her sister's commitment to the business. "Can't you hire someone?" "I would have if I'd known Mom was going to go AWOL, but like I said, tourist season has already begun. No one's available, especially no one who knows the job like you do. Even if I could beg someone I trust to help out part-time, I'd have to train them. Tay, I need you." Taylor grimaced. Now she understood the real "emergency" from Lydia's text. She did have a pretty good idea of what the job entailed, and it was precisely what she'd never wanted to do. Ever since she was little, Taylor had been determined that-in her six-year-old self's words-she was going to be a "business lady." Little Taylor had devoted countless hours to making her Barbie dolls into perfect "business ladies," which had mainly meant they wore stylish clothes, worked in tall buildings, and bossed people around. Her understanding had expanded as she grew older, but her desire to leave home and work someplace with tall buildings and stylish clothes had not. Taylor had taken off to Southern California for college and never turned back. It was true that sometimes she wondered if she was still chasing an ephemeral ideal, because working in marketing had not lived up to her childhood expectations. And it was also true that sometimes, more frequently in recent years, she'd started wondering if she should have left childhood ideals in childhood and chosen a field that didn't make her feel like her soul was being crushed on a daily basis. But it was just as true that returning home and working at the inn remained on her list of Things to Consider Only before Selling Off Internal Organs. But even then, it might depend on which organ. No one needed two kidneys. Lydia was still speaking, and Taylor caught the end of her last sentence. ". . . to help shut down the gossip too." "What gossip?" "The usual. Mostly people speculating about affairs and garbage like that. All instigated by the Porters, I'm sure." Taylor snorted. Possibly living so long in L.A. had changed her perception about such things. "Can anyone back home actually have an affair without everyone else knowing about it?" "Dan Fidel, the high school principal, carried on with a third-grade teacher for two years before his wife found out. So yes. But that's not the point. The Porters are spreading lies, and rumor is Wallace is considering running against Dad for mayor. They've been looking for ways to cut us down since the article. We can't afford to let them see us struggle. This is about family, however fractured we currently are." With her free hand, Taylor poked at the foam on her coffee. Sure, it was only eight in the morning, but she might need something stronger to drink if this was turning into a Lipin-Porter battle on top of a regular family disaster. Unfortunately, she could easily believe the Porters would try to take advantage of her family's situation. After the Bay Song's write-up, they'd started a whisper campaign that the hotel had only gotten such a glowing recommendation because her family had bribed the writer. Or, depending on which Porter was talking, because Lydia had slept with the guy. It was easy for Taylor to roll her eyes from the California coast, but back home, the nastiness was something her family had to deal with on a daily basis. It was also another reason Taylor had been eager to leave. The coffee shop's door opened, and this time Stacy entered, along with a whiff of exhaust from the delivery truck idling outside. Her friend waved and began worming her way through the crowd. "We can talk more about this later," Taylor said. "I need to go." "Fine. Will you think about what I said? Please." "Promise." It was an easy one to make. Taylor doubted she could do anything else. Excerpted from Heart on a Leash by Alanna Martin All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.