Notebook still clutched protectively to her chest, Cady sat down on the wingback recliner and watched Emily’s shoulders shudder like her heart was breaking. Cady raised her voice a little. “Emily, that’s crazy. There’s no room for me here. You need that space in my old room to work on your portfolio. You had to know that. You’ve been acting weird ever since the concert. What’s really going on?”
She plucked another tissue from the box and handed it to Emily, who immediately twisted it around her finger. Her voice was small, when she spoke. “My portfolio is crap. I thought … it’s stupid … but I thought if I had your ideas, your bracelet, I’d make something amazing. That’s why I stole your things.”
That made sense. That actually made a lot of sense. “It’s not stupid,” Cady said. “That’s why I wear the bracelet. When I didn’t have much faith in myself, I’d look at it and know I came from a line of smart, talented women who didn’t give up.”
“I know. I’ve heard you talk about it for so long. It was the most meaningful thing in your creative process.”
“Why didn’t you just ask if you could have it?”
Emily wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to know I was scared. You seem so fearless now.”
Cady recognized the fear, the shame that came with struggling to make something, wondering how the world would receive it, whether or not you had what it took to be successful. “I know how you feel, honey. Trust me, I know.” She worked the bracelet off her wrist and held it out to Emily. “It’s time to pass it on.”
Emily started to cry again. “No. It’s yours. I don’t deserve it, after what I did.”
“It’s not a question of deserving it. You’re a Ward. It’s all of ours. It belonged to Nana. She gave it to Mom after Dad left. Mom gave it to me when I moved out. Now I’m giving it to you. For courage.”
Emily swiped the heel of her hand over her cheekbones and stared at Cady’s outstretched hand. Her watery eyes held a mixture of surprise, longing, hope. “Are you sure?”
Cady didn’t move. “You’re one of us, Em. You’re a Ward. You come from strong women. You’ve got our blood in your veins. You can’t fail, because you can’t ever not be one of us.”
Emily reached out and took the bracelet. “I feel bad, getting it like this.”
“Don’t,” Cady said. “Mom practically threw it at me when she dropped me off at the bus station because I was going to need all the luck I could get. Now it’s a family tradition.”
Emily gave a watery giggle. “I miss you. I’m scared when you’re not here.”
She leaned forward and gripped Emily’s hand. “I know, honey. I miss you, too. All the time.”
Tears rolled down Emily’s face. “It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to be hanging out with me, but you were with Conn, all the time. I could tell you didn’t want me at the sleepover. And I see all the pictures of you at the drag races when you’re not supposed to be outside, looking up at him, and he’s at sushi brunch, and picking out a tree with us … I hate that he’s around so much.”
Cady’s eyes widened in shock. She’d known Emily wavered between pride and envy over Cady’s career, but complications from a man in her life never occurred to her. “Conn? You never minded my bodyguards before.”
“Because they annoyed you. He doesn’t annoy you. You like him.” She cut Cady a teary glare.
Cady grabbed her hair and coiled it to get it out of her face. “Emily, you’re not the only person who gets scared. The last few months have been so hard. I’ve felt so alone, so uncertain about whether to drop the album or ditch it for something that might bellyflop. Conn was there for me. Not because I’m Queen Maud and I could introduce him to someone who might give him an acting job. He was there for me. People hang around all the time when things are easy, but when they’re hard? Stressful? Uncertain? They fade away. Conn didn’t disappear.”
She wouldn’t disappear for him. No matter what happened with the investigation, or with her album. He was hers.
That’s what the song is about, being there for someone when things aren’t easy. The words and the melody and the bridge fell into place. She opened the notebook and scrabbled around in the mess of chip bags and soda cans and tissues on the coffee table for a pen.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked, bewildered.
“I need a pen.”
Em dug in the sofa cushions and came up with one. “You know, if you kept everything online like a normal human being, I wouldn’t have been able to steal your notebook.”
“Not funny, Em.” She was barely aware of what she was saying, just getting down the notes, fragments of lyrics, yes, that’s how the verse should turn, leading to the bridge. Yes. It all came back to her, what she’d lost when she couldn’t find her notebook, as well as the new material. As she scribbled, drawing arcs from thoughts, folding corners of months-old pages, gathering the song together, knowledge bloomed sure and certain in her soul. This was coming together because she’d fallen in love with Conn.