“Emma, I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen. I’m just waiting for you to get your life back so you can share it with me.”

 “Well, I didn’t expect this, you know. I thought I’d be spending my Saturday nights with my gay boyfriend and his jealous partner, looking for work all the time and trying to forget the debacle that was my marriage.”

 “I don’t know if you’ll ever forget it,” he said. “We can move on in spite of it. Are you finally over the idea that being with you will hurt me?”

 “I’m still worried that it might, but I’m now convinced I couldn’t change your mind if I tried. There has been yet one more complication, one more piece of unfinished business I have to deal with. I’m going to see Rosemary tomorrow. She asked Lauren to get in touch with me. It seems Rosemary can’t die in peace without seeing me and she’s come back to Santa Rosa to die. She’s in the house that had belonged to my father.”

 “And you’re going to do it?” he asked.

 “I am. Maybe I’m crazy but I’m hoping that since she asked for me, staring death in the face has made her kinder. But honestly? I’m scared to death. Our last words weren’t very nice.”

 “Let me go with you,” he said.

 “You are my champion,” she said. “That’s what Riley called you, ‘my champion.’ Lyle also offered, but I told him no. You I might take along. I always feel a little braver with you around.”

 * * *

 The house Emma grew up in was now about forty years old and because it was a custom home built on a large lot, it had held up handsomely. It was, she remembered, one of the best homes in the area, at least in the parish where her Catholic school was located. Compared to some of the homes Emma had cleaned lately, it seemed ordinary, but it wasn’t. It was a large five-bedroom, three-bath home decorated in Country French style. With its huge kitchen, spacious master bedroom and bath, and twelve-foot ceilings, it had been considered very much upscale forty years ago. The curb appeal was still there; the house was very attractive with its well-maintained lawn, shrubbery and a couple of formidable trees, sitting on a wide street with well-spaced homes.

 Of course Emma didn’t have many good memories of the place. She was not Rosemary’s child. Rosemary introduced Anna and Lauren as her daughters, Emma as her stepdaughter.

 “I’ve never been in the house,” Adam said.

 “Never? How is that possible?”

 “If I came to fetch Riley and walk her home, I waited on the stoop.”

 “I never noticed. But that doesn’t surprise me. Let’s get this over with.”

 At first Emma wasn’t sure which of her sisters opened the door as they looked very much alike and she hadn’t seen them in a few years. It took her a moment to realize it was Lauren for not only did she look tired and ashen but she’d gained about a hundred pounds. And then right behind her was Anna, thirty-seven now and morbidly obese. They both looked entirely miserable, but how should they look, knowing their mother was dying?

 The house was cluttered and held a strange smell. Dust, chemical cleaners, perhaps death.

 “Happy holidays,” Emma said, presenting Lauren with a gift basket filled with salami, cheeses, olives, wine and other goodies, like chocolate.

 Lauren didn’t thank her but took the basket and left it on the table in the foyer. “Come with me,” she said, turning so they could follow.

 They went in the direction of the master bedroom where Rosemary lay in a hospital bed rather than the bed that had been in there. Rosemary had always been heavyset but now she was shockingly thin, her color a bit jaundiced and her hair extremely sparse. All that sudden weight loss left her face sagging. There were bottles and vials on the dresser, an IV hooked up to her arm, and the room was messy with medical supplies. Her bible lay on the bed beside her. Rosemary’s eyes were closed.

 “Rosemary?” Emma said, merely breathing her name.

 She opened her eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

 “Lauren said you wanted to see me.”

 “Yes. Who is that? Another man so soon?” Rosemary asked weakly.

 “It’s Adam Kerrigan. You remember him. Riley’s brother.” She looked around the room. “Rosemary, where is Vince?”

 “Vince isn’t here. He didn’t sign on for this.”

 Emma actually grimaced. She hadn’t liked Vince at all but hadn’t they been married quite a long time for him to bail out on her like that?

 “So, you turned your lawyer on me,” Rosemary said.

 “No,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Mr. Justice was my father’s lawyer and helped him with his will. He offered to—”

 “I am the trustee of my late husband’s estate and I want you to know what to expect. Your father left some money in a trust. It was left up to me to distribute with discretion. I have my own lawyer. He’ll tell your lawyer if there’s anything to distribute, but I highly doubt it. Then we have no further business. And I forgive you.”

 Emma’s mouth hung open. “You forgive me for what?”

 “For being an ungrateful brat. For bringing shame on our family with your scandal. For never appreciating your good fortune. I’m going to die in peace, knowing I did everything I could and more than necessary.”

 Emma had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. So, Rosemary had seized one last moment to be cruel. “And the house?”

 “It belongs to my daughters now.”

 “My father’s house,” Emma said weakly. It was not a mansion by any means but California real estate was valuable. Just guessing, she would think a custom home this size on such a generous piece of property would go for a great deal of money.