I didn’t cry. I didn’t call back. I walked slowly out of the terminal, past the arrivals lane where I should have been picked up next week, and drove home in silence. The suitcase stayed in the trunk. The cookies sat wrapped in foil on the passenger seat, untouched. I didn’t even take off my shoes when I stepped inside. In the darkened living room, I opened my banking app. The cabin deposit—$3,800—still showed as sent.

It had been Nolan’s idea to rent the cabin. “Just us, Mom,” he’d said over dinner last spring. “No big reunion, no fuss. Torch Lake is supposed to be beautiful in late August.” Ivette had chimed in then, mentioning how the kids could use the lake air and how hard things had been at her job lately. She looked tired. I remember I offered to take the kids for a weekend, but she waved it off with a smile.

“We’ll make this trip work together,” she said.

A week later Nolan called. The cabin was more expensive than they’d thought. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, but I heard the hesitation—that quiet, practiced pride he inherited from his father. I interrupted and told him I’d cover the deposit.

“It’s just to take the pressure off,” I said. “No one enjoys a vacation that starts with stress.”