A sense of powerlessness seized her as she hit a patch of black ice and skidded to the right-hand side of the road, stopping inches from an enormous pine tree. She turned the car off. Foomp. The tree, with help from the blustery winds dropped a load of snow on her windshield. Molly leaned her head on the steering wheel, and breathed deeply to slow her racing heart. A deer would have made scrap metal out of her little car. Since she hadn’t quite mastered all the finer points of Northeast winter driving, she shouldn’t have let her attention wander. But she had a lot on her mind, particularly concern that Brett had never called after Jake’s doctor’s appointment, like he’d said he would. The little boy’s cold had worsened over the past couple of days, and his temperature had spiked this morning. She relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. Brett would have called if Jake were really sick, wouldn’t he? Maybe he had called. She’d left work a little early to stop by the condo. Her renters were on a two-week vacation and had asked her to keep an eye on the place and water the plants.
