Sara’s desperate cry for help cut right through Patricia, making her skin crawl.
When was this back-and-forth ever going to end?
She finally understood—those three always had it rougher whenever they came back to Golden Bay. So even though Oliver pushed them hard and they complained nonstop, deep down they knew it was better to stick with Uncle Oliver than try their luck elsewhere.
And Oliver? He was always threatening to send them back. But in the end, he never actually did.
“Alright, sweetheart, hand the phone to your Uncle Oliver,” Patricia coaxed, using every ounce of patience she had left—a skill she’d perfected thanks to Sara.
Sara, still sniffling, shot a nervous look at Oliver. His face was stormy, those dark eyes as intimidating as ever. Carefully, she handed him the phone.
“Uncle Oliver, Aunt Patricia wants to talk to you.”
Oliver took the phone, still looking like a thundercloud. His voice was cold. “Sara, you should be grateful you’re a girl.”
Patricia heard the silence and knew Oliver had the phone now. She softened her tone, trying to keep things calm. “What time will you be home?”
“It’ll be a while. Go ahead and eat, don’t wait up,” came Oliver’s clipped reply.
“How about I bring you some dinner later?” Patricia offered, knowing she had to keep him in a good mood if she wanted to help Sara out of this mess.
Honestly, she was exhausted. First the kids, now Oliver. It was nonstop.
Before Oliver could answer, Marian, who’d been listening in, looked up. “Weather report says it’s going to snow around nine thirty. It might not be safe to drive down the mountain that late.”
Patricia felt like hugging her. Perfect timing.
Sure enough, Oliver spoke up before she could. “We’ll come back now.”
That meant Sara was off the hook, at least for tonight.


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