It was a mixed blessing, really.
Chloe trailed her fingers along the tips of the fence as Emily and Gigi walked behind her on their way to dinner. The screen door of the homey little house opened onto the front porch as they got closer, and Brooke stepped out. “Take your time, people. I’ve only been waiting all day to see my niece.”
Chloe giggled and skipped forward, on up the steps to hug her. “Hey, Aunt Brooke. Thanks for the book you sent me on my birthday. I really liked it.”
Brooke hugged her tightly, then leaned back from their embrace. “Who are you? You can’t be Chloe. You’re much too tall.”
“It’s the vegetables. Mom always makes sure I eat the vegetables.”
Emily tried to think of a time she’d had to tell Chloe to eat her vegetables, but none came to mind. Still, she was glad to know Chloe thought that was the rule.
Emily climbed the steps next, feeling a flood of sweet emotions. Brooke had done a lot for her, and she’d never really said thanks. Not that Brooke would even let her. They didn’t have a mushy-gushy, let’s braid each other’s hair kind of relationship, but maybe this summer Emily could display a little subtle gratitude. She definitely owed her sister that.
“Brooke! I’m so glad to see you.” She flung her arms wide with enthusiasm, deciding there was no time like the present to start being a kinder, gentler version of herself.
Brooke, pragmatic as ever, offered back a tight but perfunctory hug that left Emily wishing for a little more. Just a little bit more. Her sister quickly took a step back to observe her, head to toe, just as she had done with Chloe. Then nodded. “Yep, I figured. You look as great as always.”
Though Trillium Bay attire in the summer was almost exclusively sundresses and shorts, Emily was wearing a pair of pale gray dress pants and a white shirt with a floaty chiffon ruffle on the front. It wouldn’t have been considered dressy in San Antonio, but Emily suddenly wondered if it was a little much for a family reunion dinner. She’d wanted to look nice. And professional. And not broke. She most especially wanted to look not broke, but her sister was wearing denim shorts and a red T-shirt that said Geology Rocks on the front, so Emily probably could have toned it down a bit.
“You look great, too. I love that haircut.”
Brooke’s dark hair was full of natural waves and fell just past her jawline with a cute, bouncy bob that fit her efficient, no-nonsense personality.
“Thanks.” Her laugh said she didn’t quite believe Emily, but she didn’t seem bothered by that either.
“Is Lilly here yet?” Emily asked.
Brooke shook her head, making the waves bounce. “She was around last night because we thought you were arriving yesterday, but tonight she had a thing she couldn’t cancel. She said to tell you she’s sorry and she’ll call you first thing tomorrow.”
That was disappointing. Lilly was good at keeping a running commentary on topics she found fascinating and could help lighten the mood in case things with Emily and her dad got too dour. She was the bouncy, outgoing counterpart to Brooke’s more serious nature. At twenty-six, Lilly was the youngest Callaghan sister. The baby of the family. She’d been just five years old when their mother died, and after that, she kind of became everyone’s baby sister. And everyone’s favorite. Of course, with Brooke as the smart, responsible one and Lilly as the bubbly, pretty one, that left Emily stuck in the middle, and whether by nature or nurture, she ultimately became the sassy one. The loudmouth. The troublemaker.
The thorn in Harlan Callaghan’s side.
“But Dad’s inside,” Brooke added, speaking of the devil.
Dad was inside? No avoiding him now.
Gigi breezed past them and opened the door. “I’ll just let myself in if you don’t mind. There must be some thirsty olives in there just waiting to be dunked into my glass. Chloe, come on with me and I’ll show you how to make the perfect martini.”
“She’s twelve, Gigi. Too young to make a martini,” Emily said.
“Too young to drink one, but not too young to make one.” Gigi pulled a giggling Chloe inside as Emily looked to Brooke.
“So, Dad’s inside, huh? Has he tenderized at all since the last time I saw him?”
Brooke’s shrug was noncommittal, as shrugs are apt to be. “Hard to say, Peach. I mean, it’s not like we sit around watching Oprah and discussing our feelings. You know how Dad is.”
She did know how Dad was. She was just hoping he’d changed. “Oprah’s not on television anymore. At least, not the talk show.”
“She isn’t? Oh, well see? That tells you how out of touch I am. I’m pretty much out of touch with Dad’s feelings, too, so if you want to know anything, I guess you’ll have to ask him yourself, but I will say that he got a haircut and bought a new shirt when he found out you were coming to visit.” Brooke arched an eyebrow to emphasize the significance of this. And it was significant.
“He bought a new shirt?”
Harlan Callaghan never met a threadbare T-shirt that he didn’t think he could wring just a little more life out of. Some of them predated the first settlers on the island. So if he went out and bought a new shirt just because Emily was coming to visit? Well, that was something.
Brooke stepped through the door and motioned for Emily to follow.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with. Hey, Dad. Look who I found on the front porch.”
Chloe was only a few steps in front of them, and she took the lead, stepping toward her grandfather and extending a hand.
“I’m so pleased to see you, sir. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better this summer.”
Emily blinked. Chloe must have learned that from watching television, or maybe Jewel had been coaching her on the sly because she hadn’t learned that from Emily. Either way, Emily offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the patron saint of wayward daughters because Harlan looked almost, maybe slightly misty-eyed as he accepted Chloe’s hand. “I look forward to that, too.”
“And look who else I found,” Brooke said, nudging Emily forward.
She stepped up as Chloe moved to the side, and leaned in for a hug that ultimately became more of a leaning forward of two people, looking over the other person’s shoulder, and tapping them ever-so-lightly on the back with their fingertips. Still, it was progress. Last time they’d seen each other, he’d pretended to be blowing his nose so his hands were too busy for a hug. “Hi, Dad. Good to see you.” Pat, pat, pat with her fingertips.
He stood upright and nodded with the kind of smile one usually reserves for the person handing you a subpoena. “Likewise. Glad the weather held for you gals. It’s supposed to be a sunny one all week.”
Annnnd he went straight for the weather. That was okay. She could work with that.