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I could have lied. I could have said I'd gone alone, which would have been technically true for the first part of the morning. I could have changed the subject and asked whether Dad had tried to use the metal detector near the RV's electrical hookup. Instead, I made the mistake of answering too quickly.

“I met Josiah for coffee and ended up also having breakfast.”

The silence that followed was so complete I checked the phone to make sure the call hadn't dropped. Then Mom said, very carefully, “You met Josiah for coffee.”

“Yes.”

“This morning.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“At Dixie's.”

“That's generally where people go when they want breakfast or coffee.”

“Max.”

I could hear the smile in her voice now, and I knew I'd lost any chance of keeping this conversation brief.

“It wasn't a date,” I said.

“I didn't say it was. I was thinking that you and Josiah were sitting together at Dixie's this morning, and I'm wondering how that came about.”

“He asked if I wanted to talk.”

“And you said yes?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

I frowned. “Good?”

“Yes, good. Talking is a sensible thing for two people to do when they have something to talk about.”

“Mom, please don't make this into something it isn't.”

“I'm not making anything into anything. You're the one who brought him up.”

“You asked how I was.”

“And you told me you'd met Josiah for coffee. I'm simply following the conversation.”

She was enjoying this far too much. I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the laptop, wishing I could somehow steer us back to Dad's spoon. That, at least, was a problem I understood how to handle.

“We talked,” I said. “That's all.”

“Sometimes talking is a good place to start.”

“Mom.”

“All right, darling. I'll stop, but to clarify - you’re saying this morning was just coffee.”

“Yes.”

I could practically see her nodding along, her expression composed and her thoughts anything but. Mom had been rooting for Josiah and me to find our way back to each other since he’d left. She'd never entirely forgiven him for leaving without saying goodbye, but she'd also never believed that what we'd had was something either of us could simply forget. She'd been kind enough not to push when Josiah first returned to Hartwell Cove to run for sheriff, perhaps recognizing that I had enough to contend with without being expected to sort out sixteen years of hurt on her preferred timetable. I suspected that holding back was becoming increasingly difficult for her.

“Did you have a nice time?” she asked, despite promising to stop.