Diane's POV
Joan, sensing the subtle tension, deftly changed the subject. "Speaking of dinner, what are we thinking for tonight? I'm starving after that court fiasco."
My mother stood, clearly grateful for the shift in conversation. "I was planning to make herb-crusted salmon with roasted vegetables. I noticed you had some beautiful fish in your refrigerator."
"You're cooking?" Joan asked, her face brightening. "I've been meaning to do something with that salmon before it goes bad."
"Consider it taken care of," my mother replied with a small smile. "It's the least I can do for your hospitality."
As she headed back to the kitchen, Joan leaned closer to me. "Everything okay?" she whispered. "That got a little intense."
I shrugged, keeping my voice low. "I'm not sure. She's been acting strange since the park. Distracted, almost anxious."
