Hope’s mom poked her head around the bedroom door. “I don’t know.” Hope snuggled deeper under the covers with a groan. The bed shifted as her mother sat next to her. Brushing fingers through Hope’s hair, she asked, “Are you sick?” “Maybe.” “Is this about kissing Sinclair?” Hope sneaked a peek at her mother, who looked as calm as Lake Leelanau on a hot summer day. “How’d you know?” “Mary Stillwell called me last night, after she’d picked up Jeremy.” Hope groaned again. “Why can’t everyone leave it alone?” “Mary was concerned about you and thought I should know.” “Yeah, right.” Mary loved news. Especially something this juicy to pass along. Her mom chuckled. “Mary said that Sinclair told her about it first because he didn’t want things blown out of proportion.”
