It felt like she was in school all over again.
Plastering a smile on her face, Emma took the tray anyway and set it down on the coffee table. She glanced over at her mom, who lowered herself onto the couch next to Jules and smiled at her. While a part of her was relieved and glad Jules was able to take time away from her busy schedule to come down to Rockport, another part of her couldn’t help but be jealous of the way her parents were looking at Jules.
Likeshewas the daughter they never had, someone to pour all their hopes and dreams into, without the fear of disappointment.
Already, they were far more supportive and indulgent of Jules than they’d ever been of her. The realization left a bad taste in the back of Emma’s mouth, one she tried to shake off for the rest of the evening as Marie poured them all apple cider, and they turned to face the TV as one. In spite of Jules’s best attempts at thawing the ice between them, Emma knew it hadn’t worked.
It was going to take a lot more than a surprise visit over the holidays to mend fences.
Nothing short of a miracle was going to make the Sullivans feel like a family again.
Chapter Five
“What if I want Santa to bring me a new house with my own room?”
“I want a big, shaggy dog.”
A chorus of agreement rose as the kids formed a half-circle around a harried-looking group of librarians, who were standing with their backs pressed against each other. Smiling, they led the children to the tables pressed against each other, jars of crayons and pencils on display. One by one, the kids pulled out chairs, sank into bean bags, and stretched out on the carpeted hardwood floors to write.
From the corner of her eye, Emma glanced at one kid with spiky blond hair who wouldn’t stop tugging on an older-looking librarian’s pant leg. Dressed in greens and reds, she looked like something out of one of her storybooks, and it filled Emma with a longing and ache for simpler times in her life.
She remembered participating in the Santa’s letter workshop.
She’d spent many afternoons in that very corner, with shelves upon shelves of books on either side of her, lost to her own world: a world where she’d dreamed of a happier family, no braces, and a future full of fighting evil and delivering justice.
Back when she believed everything was possible.
Emma sighed as she stroked the spine of the nearest book and recalled what it felt like to feed off that energy, of the magical belief that Christmas was special, a time when miracles happened around every corner. When she blinked, she saw her eight-year-old self holding a candy cane in one hand and scribbling furiously with the other.
When had she stopped believing in magic, in the good the world had to offer?
Right around the time you took on your first case as a family lawyer.
It had hit her when she handled the custody case for a little girl whose father ended up charming the pants off the judge and jurors, only to disappear a few short months later, having kidnapped his daughter.
Thinking of that case and how it had changed everything still haunted her.
The day she received the news of Andrea Johnson’s disappearance was the day she lost hope.
It felt like she’d failed the little girl by not being able to expose her father for the snake he was.
With a slight shake of her head, Emma wandered farther through the aisles, skimming through several articles, only to find that none of them were what she wanted. In the astronomy section, she took a deep breath and saw a younger version of herself, legs dangling over her father’s shoulders as he spoke in a hushed tone, painting a picture of the stars for her—of the worlds that existed just out of reach.
Henry had been a little more present then, and he used to talk to her about the cosmos at length.
“I’m so excited about the solar eclipse.”
Emma paused with her hand on the spine of a volume on astronomy and waited.
“Did you hear that the eclipse is going to reveal the secret to some lost Sullivan treasure? You know, I always knew there must be more to that family. You remember what they used to say about the grandfather?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t altogether right in the head, but he loved his mysteries.”
“Like father, like son.”
“Maybe he hid the treasure because of how paranoid he got in the end.”
Emma swiveled to face them, but the two silver-haired women had already ambled away, arms linked together and shoes squeaking against the floors. She debated whether or not to follow them before shaking her head and fishing her phone out of her pocket. Her father picked up on the fifth ring, sounding distant and unfocused.
