Free A Turn in the Road by Debbie Macomber

of Oregon. Her mother had died a couple of years ago. Bethanne was proud of the way her father coped with being a widower. Despite his grief he hadn’t given up on life; in fact, he was currently in England with a group of students on a Shakespearean tour.
    They spoke and emailed regularly, and she’d recently learned that he was dating. Her father had a more active social life than she did, which actually made her smile.
    â€œWasn’t Dad born in Oregon?” Annie asked.
    â€œYes, in Pendleton,” Ruth confirmed. “Richard and I were newlyweds, and he was working on a big engineering project there. I don’t remember exactly what it was now. We moved around quite a bit the first few years we were married.”
    â€œHow far is Pendleton from here?”
    â€œOh, dear, I wouldn’t know.”
    â€œI’d like to see the town where Dad was born,” Annie said. “Couldn’t we spend the night there instead?” She reached for herphone again. “It would mean we’d need to change our route, but it wouldn’t be that much out of our way.”
    â€œWe were only in Pendleton for the first year of his life,” Ruth said.
    â€œDo you have any friends living there?” Annie pressed, but before Ruth could answer, she asked another question. “I’ll bet it’s been ages since you connected with them, isn’t it?”
    â€œWell, that was forty-nine years ago. I’m sure they’ve moved on.”
    â€œWhat are their names?” Annie’s fingers were primed and ready as she held her cell phone. “I’ll look them up and find out for you.”
    â€œAnnie,” Bethanne warned. Her daughter seemed to be taking control of the trip.
    â€œOkay, okay, I’ll shut up and we can spend the night in Spokane and sit around the hotel room all afternoon.”
    Bethanne cast Ruth an apologetic look.
    â€œI had a friend by the name of Marie Philips.” Ruth’s voice was tentative, uncertain. “She was married and a young mother herself. Her parents owned a small café on the outskirts of town. I’m sure it’s long gone by now.”
    â€œWe need to eat, don’t we?” Annie said triumphantly.
    â€œThe café might not even be in business anymore,” Bethanne felt obliged to remind her.
    â€œIs her name listed on that computer phone of yours?” Ruth asked, sounding more interested by the minute.
    Bethanne could hear Annie typing away.
    â€œP-h-i-l-i-p-s?” Annie spelled it out. “With one L? ”
    â€œYes. The café was where the bus stopped, too. They served the most wonderful home cooking. Marie was a real friend to me, but we lost contact after Richard and I moved.”
    â€œWhat was the name of the café?”
    â€œOh, dear.” Ruth shook her head. “I don’t remember, but I do know where it is…or was.”
    â€œSo, can I see the town where Dad was born?” Annie askedeagerly. “Even if we spend the night in Spokane, I’d still like to visit Pendleton.”
    â€œI don’t see why we couldn’t,” Ruth said, apparently catching Annie’s enthusiasm. “My goodness, I haven’t thought of Marie in years. She had a son around the same age as Grant. I wonder what became of him. Marie had an older boy, as well. Like I said, she was so helpful to me. She’s one of those salt-of-the-earth people.” Ruth seemed immersed in her memories.
    Bethanne continued driving in silence. They passed Ellensburg and were headed toward the bridge that spanned the mighty Columbia River, on the way to Moses Lake. All of this was familiar territory. If they made the decision to go to Pendleton, they’d need to change course after crossing the bridge.
    Annie was still typing. “The Pendleton directory lists a Marie Philips.”
    â€œIt does?” Ruth’s voice rose excitedly. “Let’s call her.”
    Annie