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was a very responsible thing to ask.”
    “Let me get you some coffee.”
    “If you insist. But the old Willa would have found some way to take advantage of this situation.”
    “You have no idea who the old Willa was,” she said.
    “Neither do you, obviously.”
    Without another word, she turned and went to the kitchen, where she managed to spill both the coffee grounds and the water. She just wanted to get her father’s old percolator going so she could give Colin a jolt of caffeine and have him be on his way.
    “Do you go up to the Blue Ridge Madam often?” Colin called from the living room.
    “No,” she answered. Of course he’d get around to that.
    “So you weren’t planning a prank for, say, the big gala?” He actually said that hopefully.
    “Oh, for God’s sake,” Willa mumbled.
    Leaning against the kitchen counter, she watched the percolator as it gurgled and took its time. When it had finally made enough for a single serving, she poured some into a cup and took it to the living room.
    He was still sitting on her gray microsuede couch, his hands on his knees, his head resting back against the cushions.
    “Oh, no,” she said, panicking as she set the cup down on the end table. “No, no, no. Colin, wake up.”
    He didn’t stir.
    She reached over and touched his shoulder. “Colin, I have your coffee. Wake up and drink some.” She shook his shoulder. “Colin!”
    His eyes opened, and he looked at her, a little unfocused. “What happened to you? You were the bravest person I knew,” he murmured. Then he closed his eyes again.
    “Colin?” She watched for a telltale flutter of his long eyelashes, thinking maybe he was playing some game with her. “Colin?”
    Nothing.
    She stood there for a moment, stunned. Just as she was about to turn, she caught a whiff of something sweet. She inhaled deeply, instinctively wanting tosavor it, but then she nearly choked when it landed on her tongue with a bitter taste. It was so strong she actually made a face.
    That, her grandmother had described to her once after making a particularly bad lemon cream pie, was exactly what regret tasted like.

    The thick morning mist in Walls of Water, common because of the nearby waterfalls, was famous in itself. There wasn’t a single store on National Street that didn’t sell those touristy Jars of Fog, gray-glass jars visitors could take home with them to remind them of their stay. Willa figured it was a lot like living near the ocean. When you see it every day, sometimes you wonder what the big deal is.
    The mist was just beginning to disappear with the rising heat as Willa got into her Wrangler the next morning and drove toward the nursing home. Thankfully, Colin had gotten up and left sometime during the night, taking his disappointment that she wasn’t still secretly pulling pranks on the town, that she wasn’t still eighteen, with him.
    She wished he’d never come to see her. She was doing the right thing being here. She’d grown up. The whole point of being here was so she didn’t disappoint people anymore.
    “Hi, Grandmother Georgie,” Willa said brightly when she got to the nursing home and walked into her room. Her grandmother had already been dressed and put in her wheelchair. She was sitting, slightly stooped,by the window. The morning sun on her white hair and pale face made her seem almost translucent. She’d been a beautiful woman in her day, with wide eyes, high cheekbones, and a long, thin nose. Sometimes you could still catch sight of that beauty, and it was like looking through enchanted glass.
    Her grandmother had been showing the first signs of dementia when Willa left for college. That’s when Willa’s father had moved her in with him, into Willa’s old bedroom. Two years later, she’d had a stroke, and he’d been forced to move her to the nursing home. Willa knew the decision wasn’t easy for him, but he’d managed to get her into the nicest facility in the area. After her father died,