he was gone. Just a note on the counter: “I’ve gone to the lake house. Don’t call. I need space.” I called Mom in a panic—and her reaction chilled me. He told me he was at the office last night! And the lake house? We sold that a year ago!” Fearing the worst, she picked me up and we tracked him to a house on the edge of town. Her voice shaking, Mom said it belonged to a woman from his office. We expected the worst. We burst through the door… “SURPRISE!” Balloons. Confetti. A banner: “Baby Detective Arriving Soon!” Turns out, the whole thing was an elaborate baby shower—mystery-themed, because I’ve loved detective stories since I was a kid. Dad had been the “red herring,” adding drama with fake divorce claims and secretive behavior. No affair. No breakdown. Just a room full of friends, decorations marked like a crime scene, and the most creative baby celebration I could’ve imagined. I was mad. Then I laughed. Then I cried. And in that moment, I realized the greatest mystery was how my family managed to pull this off—and how lucky I am to be surrounded by so much love.
