The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

The unexpected part of it was that Libby and Madeline wrapped their arms around her and cried, too.

“You’re not the only one,” Madeline said with a swipe of a tear beneath her eye. “Grant left me with the worst mother on the planet. And then threw you two at me after he’d died. I can see now that even as a kid, so much of my life was out of control that I had to control something.”

“Me, too,” Libby said. “I got moved around so much as a kid that I kept looking for that one place I actually belonged, you know? I needed a family, and when I finally had one, I couldn’t let go.”

“Did you tell Cooper you love him?” Madeline asked.

Emma shook her head. “I thought it would only make things worse. You know, the old, I-love-you, it’s-not-you-it’s-me shtick.”

“Yeah. Bad idea,” Madeline agreed.

“It’s so screwed up,” Emma said morosely. “The worst is knowing that it’s so twisted and not knowing how to untwist it.” She smiled sadly at Madeline. “I’m sorry that I’m the sister you got.”

“Me, too,” Madeline said gravely.

Libby gasped.

“Seriously,” Madeline said. “All those years of wanting sisters, and then I get one who bashes pickups with a golf club and spends a week in a psych hospital, and somehow manages to turn that around and build an amazing rehabilitation center for war vets. Plus manages to raise money for Leo’s van. And then another one who is amazingly beautiful and a straight-shooter, which I happen to like, and takes care of Leo every day—for free—and makes big donations to afterschool programs and who finally, finally found a way to open up to us. Yeah, I definitely got screwed.”

“You!” Libby scoffed. “What about me and Em?”

“Oh, definitely screwed,” Madeline said, nodding. “A super–control freak who goes around highlighting little chalk outlines around you two.”

Emma couldn’t help a sad laugh. “It’s not funny, because it’s so true. You’re very controlling.”

Madeline snorted. “God, Emma, never stop being you, do you promise? I think you’re the only one in my life I can trust to never beat around the bush.” She suddenly took Emma’s hand and Libby’s hand. “Look at us. Three misfits, three sisters. Three women who had one really shitty father. And somehow, I couldn’t have created better sisters myself.”

“You know what?” Libby said, her voice shaking a little. “I couldn’t ask for better, either.” She laid her head on Emma’s shoulder.

“Christ, I told you guys I wasn’t going to let you turn this into some Lifetime movie,” Emma complained, but she didn’t protest at all when Libby put her arms around her to hug her.





TWENTY-THREE

Emma, Madeline, and Libby stayed up late, sharing a bottle of wine, exchanging tales of their lives until the wee hours of the morning. Before they turned in, Libby asked, “What are you going to do about Cooper?”

“Nothing,” Emma said, resigned. “He’s given up on me.”

There was nothing for her to do but figure out where she went from here, a process that Emma wasn’t sure how to even start. But she was determined—she meant to turn her life around, whatever it took.

She was late to work the next day, and she was prepared for Leo to give her a hard time about it as he was wont to do. She dashed up the steps—cleared of the light snow by Bob first thing, she noted—and was reaching for the door when it opened.

Bob was standing there. He had deep circles under his eyes and looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Dante passed away early this morning,” he said low.

Emma gasped. “No!” she said. “I thought . . .” She didn’t know what she thought, really, other than the fact that Leo was always talking about him. “But he went to the game!”

“Yeah,” Bob said, and rubbed his face. “Guess he was sicker than we knew.”

“How’s Leo?” Emma asked.

Bob shrugged. “Can’t tell with him, sometimes. The Methodist ladies are with him now.”

Emma nodded and walked in, putting her bag next to the little Christmas tree. She straightened her jacket and took a breath before moving on to Leo’s room. She poked her head into the room and lifted her hand. “Hey, Leo. Ladies.”

“There she is,” Leo said, his voice lacking the usual gaiety. “I told you she’d make it.”

The Methodist women—four of them today—looked rather glum as they said hello to her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Emma said. “The roads were slow going.”

“Gee, what’s a little snow,” Leo said. “Emma, can you make my lunch? If you could whip up some crème br?lée and that delicious liver Dad was eating the other night, I’d really like it.”

She looked at him strangely. He had a protein shake for lunch every day.

“Is it lunchtime?” Deb Trimble asked. She stood up, looking at her watch. “We better go, girls. We want to get to the Rocky Creek Tavern before the noon special sells out.”