"No. Thanks."

"Where's Dad?"

"I don't want to nag," Nancy Parker said, "but you're late. Maria and Michael are depending on you to get ready for the lunch crowd."

"I know. On my way." Liz walked to the door and glanced back at her mother.

Nancy Parker looked in perplexed confusion at the pile of pots and pans and dishware in front of her.

"Mom," Liz said.

"What?" Her mother seemed preoccupied.

"You'd talk to me if you needed to, wouldn't you?" Liz asked. "I mean, if anything was wrong."

Nancy Parker stared at her daughter quietly, then smiled. "Of course I would. Just like you'd talk to me if something was going on in your life that you needed help coping with."

Liz returned her mom's look for a moment and felt incredibly guilty. She had hardly told her mother anything about the last year and a half.

"Sure," Liz said, starting through the door. "If something comes up, just keep in mind that I'm around. Okay?"

"I will," her mother promised, then began putting the pots and pans away.

Uncertain and still feeling a little unsettled, Liz pushed through the door. One of us is losing it, she told herself. Part of her was afraid that person was her, not her mom.

As the door closed Liz thought she saw a silvery metallic flash in the kitchen. She stopped and opened the door again, looking around the room. Nothing silvery caught her eye, but she was certain she'd seen something.

"Liz!"

"I'm going," Liz replied. As she pulled her head back she noticed the cold chill that filled the kitchen. Only then did she realize that the window wasn't open as she'd thought. That's weird.

Without another word, knowing that her mother was on the verge of getting irritated, Liz turned and headed down the hallway. The wrongness of the morning tugged at the back of her mind, the place where she filed all the strange things she'd encountered since getting to know Max Evans.