Chapter 1

The holidays were almost here. I was in the kitchen rolling out dough with my husband and our son when the phone buzzed across the counter.

"Anna."

Just my name. One word, and I knew exactly who it was.

We hadn't spoken in seven years.

I couldn't imagine what he wanted now.

"What is it?"

On the other end of the line, his breathing grew heavy, uneven. His voice came out rushed.

"I'm downstairs. Can you come down?"

"I need to tell you something in person. It's important."

Downstairs.

I walked over to the window in the living room and pulled back the curtain.

Sure enough, a black Bentley was idling at the curb. He was leaning against the driver's door, head tilted back, staring up at the windows.

At that face. The one that looked so much like mine.

My fingers tightened around the window frame.

I had no idea what could possibly be important enough to bring him here after all this time.

I pulled back from the glass.

Without a word, I hung up.

"Mommy, who was that?"

Leo came barreling across the kitchen, flour smudged on one cheek, his little legs pumping to reach me.

I caught his hand and led him back to the counter, smiling.

"Nobody important, sweetheart."

When I sat back down, Daniel was watching me. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Finally he asked, "Was that your brother?"

The smile slipped off my face.

"Whether he's back in town has nothing to do with me. I cut him off seven years ago."

Daniel looked like he wanted to say more, but he took one look at my expression and stopped.

A moment later, my phone buzzed again. A text from Uncle Richard.

Ethan had reached out to him. Wanted to get the family together for dinner. Hoped Anna would come.

When I didn't reply right away, another message followed.

"Anna, I know you both had your reasons back then, but that was a long time ago now..."

He was pleading Ethan's case.

And he wasn't the only one.

Daniel was doing the same thing, in his own careful way.

I didn't understand it.

I was the one who had been hurt, and I had already let it go. Why did everyone else keep dragging it back up?

Because we shared blood?

I had severed ties with Ethan seven years ago. Whether he was doing well, whether he was miserable, whether he was alive or dead — none of it was my concern anymore.

He stopped being the brother who shielded me from bullies, saved me the last bite of everything he loved, and stayed up half the night listening to every stupid thing I had to say a long, long time ago.

"Mommy, are we still going today?"

Leo's voice pulled me out of it.

I nodded.

We were going.

Daniel got up to pull the car around. We took a different route out of the neighborhood to avoid the Bentley still parked at the curb, and drove straight out to Mount Hope Cemetery.

When we got there, I took Leo's hand and led him up the hill. Daniel walked behind us, carrying the flowers and the picnic basket.

At five, Leo was in that stage where every thought became a question.

"Mommy, why do we come here every holiday?"

"Mommy, who lives here?"

"Mommy, look — that stone is huge!"

I smiled and smoothed his hair but didn't answer.

When we reached the headstone, I knelt down with him.

The plot was simple, well-tended. I laid out the flowers, the cards Leo had drawn.

Then I started talking, the way I always did.

"I came to see you again. Don't get tired of me."

I pulled Leo close.

"This is your grandson. His name is Leo. He's five now. He's a little troublemaker, just the way you used to say I was at his age."

My voice thickened. I had to stop.

I brushed some leaves off the stone so the letters would show clearly:

Charles Bennett Harrington

Beloved Father

In loving memory, from his daughter, Anna

Ethan's name wasn't on the stone. It never had been.