Sun poured through the kitchen’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Emma perched at the island counter and watched as Mrs. Mercer measured loose-leaf tea into a purple-flowered teapot. “Remember playing tea when you were little?” Mrs. Mercer asked, smiling. “You would bring your stuffed animals down and sit them around the table and pretend to serve them crumpets.”
“Crumpets?” Emma rolled her eyes as she imagined Sutton would have done. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did. I don’t think you even knew what crumpets were—you just heard the word somewhere and liked how it sounded.”
Emma smiled. She liked hearing sweet memories of her sister.
I liked that my mom had sweet memories of me.
“How’s Ethan?” Mrs. Mercer poured hot water over the leaves. Lavender-scented steam billowed from the teapot’s spout.
“He’s good.” Emma couldn’t wipe a dopey grin off her face. “We’re having a picnic tonight.”
Mrs. Mercer raised an eyebrow. “How romantic.”
Emma ducked her head, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “We’re going stargazing—he’s really into astronomy. I was going to bake cookies this afternoon to take with us.”
“You’re making cookies?” Mrs. Mercer peered at her. “You don’t even know how to turn the oven on!”
“Oh, I’m sure I can figure it out,” Emma covered. It didn’t surprise her that Sutton didn’t know how to cook, but she’d been baking since junior high, making chocolate chip oatmeal cookies and peanut butter blossoms to try to win over her various foster families. Baking relaxed her. She liked to sit, listening to her favorite music on the used iPod she’d bought at Goodwill, inhaling the delicious smells of sugar and chocolate.
I just hoped she didn’t lick the batter from the spoon. Sutton Mercer did not get love handles.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll love them, even if they’re a little burned,” Mrs. Mercer teased.
“Gee, thanks, Mom,” Emma groused good-naturedly. Just talking about her night with Ethan made Emma’s heart speed up. It felt like ages since their date at the movie studio, and she couldn’t wait to feel his breath on her ear and his lips on hers. She smiled at the thought of his cryptic text from that morning: N 32° 12' 23.2554", W 110° 41' 18.3012" = <3? 8PM? After a moment of puzzling, Emma had plugged the longitude and latitude notations into Sutton’s iPhone. The coordinates were for a site in Saguaro National Park. Sends me invitations in the form of riddles was something else to add to her list of Adorable Things Ethan Does.
The teapot whistled, breaking Emma from her thoughts. “He wasn’t hurt too badly in that fight, was he?” Mrs. Mercer asked.
Emma shrugged. “I think he’s okay. He has a black eye that he thinks makes him look really cool.”
Mrs. Mercer sighed. “He shouldn’t have swung at Thayer. Boys never stop to think things through, do they? People get hurt in fights like that—and not just the people in the actual fight.” Then she looked at Emma. “How are you doing with all of that, Sutton?”
Emma picked at a speck of lint on her skirt. “Haven’t you heard? I’m Sutton Mercer. I love it when boys fight over me.”
Mrs. Mercer crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve never seen you get so pale as when those two started on each other.”
Gratitude bubbled up in Emma’s chest as she met Mrs. Mercer’s eyes. No else one was willing to believe that she wasn’t enjoying stringing two boys along. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “I like Ethan, and it’s completely over with me and Thayer. I just can’t seem to convince either one of them of that.”
Mrs. Mercer sipped her tea. “You know, Sutton, the problem isn’t that you’re giving them the wrong signals. It’s that you’re so worth fighting for. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
If I could have put my head on my adoptive mother’s shoulder right at that moment, I would have. Ever since my death, Emma and I had scrambled around trying to figure out what I’d done to deserve getting murdered. It seemed I’d given so many people reasons to want me gone that the real mystery was why someone hadn’t done it sooner. It was a welcome change to hear something nice about me for once.
Mrs. Mercer opened a package of shortbread cookies and placed a few on a plate. “Well, I for one think Ethan has been a good influence on you. Your grades have improved so much since you started seeing him, and you’ve been nicer to your sister.” She gave Emma a motherly smile. “Or maybe my little girl is just growing up.”
Emma shifted uncomfortably. “Um, where did this tea set come from, Mom?” she asked, hoping to change the subject from her personality shift.
Mrs. Mercer eyed her strangely over the silver sugar tongs. “You don’t remember? This was your great-grandma’s, the only thing she brought with her from Scotland. I’m not sure how old it is—I always got the impression that it’d been handed down well before then.”
I suppressed a twinge of sadness—and anger. How many times had I listened to family history and felt shut out of it just because I thought I was adopted? I still didn’t understand why my grandparents didn’t feel that they could tell me that their stories were my stories, too, that I was related to the ancestors who had come over from Scotland with that tea set. It all came back to Becky. What had she done that had merited banishment so complete that I wasn’t even allowed to know my own heritage?
Emma looked thoughtfully at the tea service, thinking the same thing I was. Wheels started turning at the back of her mind.
She looked up. “Mom, can I ask you a question? Do you … have any regrets?”
Mrs. Mercer looked surprised. “Regrets?”
“You know, people you don’t talk to anymore, relationships you’ve cut off. Anything like that.” She almost winced at how transparent she sounded, but Mrs. Mercer didn’t seem to notice.
Her grandmother looked down into her cup. “You know, things change. People change. Sometimes you have to move on from someone you care about. It can be hard, honey.” Mrs. Mercer folded and unfolded a linen napkin embroidered with a pineapple. “Sometimes you have to admit that a relationship can’t be fixed. That no matter how much you want to, you can’t trust some people.”
Something about her words sent a little shiver up Emma’s spine. She poured more tea into her cup, a few stray leaves swirling in the hot liquid. She wished she could use them to see the future. Or even better, the past.
Mrs. Mercer frowned. “What’s this about, sweetheart?”
“Nothing,” Emma said, biting her lip. “I’ve just been thinking how you’ve always been there for me, no matter what. I guess it just got me wondering if I’ve ever pushed you too far.” Like Becky did, she thought, willing Mrs. Mercer to open up. Come on, Grandma, tell me how Becky crossed that line.
Her grandmother took Emma’s hand across the table, her bright blue eyes wide with concern. “Are you trying to tell me something? Are you in some kind of … trouble?”
Emma shook her head. “No, of course not. Everything’s fine.”
Mrs. Mercer looked searchingly into Emma’s eyes for a long moment, then let go of Emma’s hand and picked up her teacup and saucer, the porcelain clinking softly together. When she spoke again, her voice was halting and careful, as if she were still forming the words in her head.
“Sutton, I love you and your sister very much. I would do anything for you two. I’ve been hard on you sometimes, I know that. But it’s because I look at you and I think about all the potential you have, to be successful and healthy and happy.” She paused. “A mother’s love is unconditional, Sutton. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me love you less. I promise.”
Emma looked back down to her tea. An unmistakable sadness had gripped her at her grandmother’s words. A mother’s love should be unconditional. But Mrs. Mercer clearly hadn’t felt that way about Becky. And Becky certainly hadn’t felt that way about her twins.
Emma didn’t know why Mrs. Mercer had accepted Laurel and Sutton and not Becky, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting any information from her today. She’d just have to keep digging and find her own answers.
For both our sakes.
11
A PICNIC UNDER THE STARS
When Emma arrived at the park that evening, Ethan was already at the trailhead, his telescope in its plastic case on his back. The sun was setting behind the mountains in a blaze of red light. For a moment it gave Ethan’s face an unearthly glow, as if he were illuminated from the inside.
She watched him for a long moment, adding to her mental list of Adorable Things Ethan Does: #578: Carries his telescope like it’s a guitar and he’s a rock star. In his beat-up jeans and white T-shirt, Ethan did actually have a James Dean thing going on. Emma’s heart started beating faster as she walked over to meet him.
“Hey, you.” Ethan held out his arms. Emma pressed her face against his T-shirt and inhaled his clean-laundry scent, feeling his chest muscles against her cheek. He kissed the top of her head. Her toes curled with pleasure inside her socks.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the trail. The park was alive with the soft noises of hunting bats, the chirps of crickets and cicadas, the burrowing of small animals in the sand.
Under a breeze-tousled desert willow lay a red-and-white checkered blanket and a basket filled with grapes, strawberries, a baguette, and a wedge of Brie. Ethan had even brought a bottle of sparkling cider and plastic champagne glasses. Candles in Mason jars completed the scene.
Emma gasped and squeezed Ethan’s arm. “I can’t believe you did all this,” she exclaimed.
He knelt on the blanket and patted the spot next to him. “I thought it might be nice to have an actual date. With, you know, romance and stuff.” He opened the cider and handed her a glass, pouring himself one, too.
She laughed and clinked their glasses together. “Here’s to romance, then. Though I’m not sure I’m as good at it as you are. Maybe you could give me a few pointers.”
“I think that could be arranged,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her so lightly and sweetly she couldn’t help but want more.
“Good lesson,” she breathed when he pulled away.
They nibbled at the cheese and baguette, watching the sunset in a comfortable silence. Emma had always dreamed of a romantic night like this, but she never dared dream she’d have someone like Ethan to share it with. He was everything she could have asked for in a boyfriend, and she was finally lucky enough to get it.
“Have you thought any more about … you know, about what we should do when this is over?” Ethan asked, glancing up at her nervously. She blushed, remembering what he’d suggested—that they move in together if the Mercers wouldn’t take her in as Emma. She bit her lip, looking away from him before she answered.