She hadn’t done too badly herself, with more work coming in than she could handle sometimes, but she’d taken a different path than most of her sorority sisters. She was more a hermit, content to stay away from the pressure of a fast-paced career. She liked working at home, and yes, wearing comfy sweats every day. Her online social life was quite active and stimulating and perfectly suited her needs.
Well, most of them, she thought, her gaze wandering back to Marnie’s email. Some sex wouldn’t be a bad thing.
1
“OH, YOU’RE A BLONDE.” Emily opened the front door wider and then relieved her sister of two of her shopping bags.
“Since yesterday. What do you think?”
“Very nice. You look like a natural.”
“I know, right?” Pam swept past her, angling her head so she could catch her reflection in the grandfather clock that had graced the Carter foyer for three generations.
A gust of brisk autumn air rushed in, carrying two fallen yellow leaves. Emily ducked her head to make sure neither of her nieces were trailing behind, and then closed the door. Her sister was one of those people who seemed to fill a room, sucking out all the oxygen and squeezing out everyone else. Sometimes that included her children. Oh, it wasn’t intentional and she never meant to be mean, that was simply the way of it.
“Although I did like your hair red, too,” Emily offered, as she followed her older sister into the den, envying how her short gray pencil skirt showed off her long legs. Pam was tall and elegant, while their younger sister, Denise, was petite and way too adorable. Emily had ended up right smack in the middle, average in every way. Which wasn’t a big deal. When she was younger, yeah. But not now, not at twenty-eight.
Pam snorted. “Auburn, not red. Where’s Mom?”
“She’s out back gathering the last of the roses from the greenhouse. What’s in the bags?”
“Christmas presents.”
“And you brought them here instead of taking them home because…?” Emily figured she knew the answer.
“So you could wrap them. No hurry.”
“Uh, yeah, with Thanksgiving still being three weeks away.”
Ignoring Emily’s sarcasm, Pam dumped the bags on the tan leather couch and then frowned at her watch. “I hope Denise isn’t late. Mark and I have dinner reservations at the club tonight.”
“Denise is coming, too?”
“Oh, didn’t anyone tell you about getting together today?”
Sighing, Emily shook her head. Why would they? She was always here. She worked at home, spent her free time reading or cooking, only going out on a Saturday night when needed as a last-minute babysitter for her nieces and nephews. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to discuss Thanksgiving dinner.” Pam moved to the wet bar and helped herself to a martini. She set down the bottle of gin and critically eyed Emily’s favorite baggy gray sweats. “I can’t believe you still have those things.” Her gaze moved to the fuzzy pink house slippers. “Oh, my God.”
“What?” Emily glanced down. Okay, they had gotten pretty ratty over the years. “It’s not like I’m out in public.”
“But what if someone came to the door?”
“Like who?”
“Like that cute UPS guy who delivers your manuscripts.”
Emily sighed. Sad that he used to be the highlight of her week. Hell, of her life. She’d even broken down and started applying mascara when she knew he was coming. “They changed his route.”
“Hmm. Who took his place?”
“A woman.”
“Too bad. Your only prospect gone.” Pam took a sip of her martini. “You really need to get out more.”
“I like my life, thank you very much. By working at home, look how much money I save on clothes.”
“Apparently.”
Emily rolled her eyes. She loved her sister. She did, but Pam could be so irritating at times. “I think I heard a car door,” she muttered and went to the window and watched their younger sister, looking smart in a mauve silk suit and impossibly high heels, bow her tawny head in deference to the wind as she hurried up the walkway.
“Denise?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Go get Mom, will you, while I give Mark a quick ring.”
Gladly. Then she’d be left in peace again. She heard the front door open as she trudged toward the kitchen at the back of the house. It was a joke, really. Discuss Thanksgiving dinner? She knew how that would go. Just like it always did. With her doing most of the cooking.
Before Emily got to the door, Laura Carter, the matriarch of the Carter clan, entered the kitchen with her gloved hands full of fragrant pink and yellow roses.
“Are the girls here?” she asked, using the back of her wrist to push the blond bob away from her face.
“Yes.” Emily stretched on tiptoes to reach the crystal vase sitting on top of the antique oak hutch that had been passed down for five generations. “You didn’t mention they were coming.”
“Didn’t I?” She smiled. “Sorry, honey. Fill that only half full, would you?”
Emily dutifully filled the vase to specification. “Pam and Mark have dinner reservations so she’s kind of in a hurry.”
“Well, she can wait a few extra minutes.” She clipped the stems and then carefully arranged the roses to her satisfaction.
Emily leaned a hip against the counter and fondly watched her mother work. In a way, Emily was most like her. Definitely more Zen than either Pam or Denise, with a greater appreciation for long sentimental movies and heart-tugging books that kept them reading until three in the morning.
Conversely, Pam and Denise were more gregarious and ambitious, like their father. At least that’s what Emily had gleaned over the years. She’d been eight when he’d died, and although she remembered him quite vividly, at least through the eyes of a child, she relied on her mother’s memory for the nuances of his personality.
Her mother took a step back to admire her arrangement. “I should have brought in some greens.”
“You realize the girls will start hollering for us any second.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t started already,” she said, unconcerned, and moved a pink rose to the other side of the vase.
Emily chuckled. She had to give her mother credit for gumption. The trace of a Southern accent that had survived living in Indiana for the past thirty years often misled the uninformed. Beneath her petite and genteel exterior, she was a tough cookie who generally knew what she wanted. Except
