Her parents deserved better, and so did her friends.
After everything she’d sacrificed, all the late nights and endless tears, she owed it to herself to make sure she came back for the right reasons.
If she came back at all.
So, things aren’t going great at the firm. So what? You can’t just up and leave because you’re not where you want to be. You’ve worked too hard.
Walking away from the firm now was as good as throwing the towel in and turning her back on her career once and for all.
Emma couldn’t bring herself to do that, not just yet.
When she got into the car and turned the key in the ignition, Emma realized she couldn’t make a decision until she saw the mystery through to the end.
No matter where it took her or what harsh truths she’d have to stomach about herself and her family.
Chapter Eleven
“Did you add the flour?”
Emma nodded and peered into the bowl. “It looks a lot thicker than cake flour. Are you sure it’ll work?”
“This recipe needs something sturdier,” Marie replied from her spot in front of the fridge. “Now, add two and a half teaspoons of baking powder, followed by the salt, and vanilla extract.”
On the marble counter, the radio kept hissing in and out of signal, filling the kitchen with soft Christmas music. Her mother hummed along and tapped her feet, and Emma smiled to herself. She continued to whisk the ingredients together until her mother came and added a hefty dose of butter to the bowl. Marie’s eyebrows drew together as she used the shredder to sprinkle in some orange zest, followed by half a cup of spiced rum and brown sugar.
Emma cracked in five eggs in silence before measuring the sour cream and milk.
“This is going to be delicious,” Emma commented softly. “Thank you for showing me how to make this.”
Marie nodded and crushed a handful of pecans. “It’s one of your dad’s favorite recipes.”
Emma twisted to face her and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
Marie made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat.
After pouring the batter into the cake pan, Marie scattered the pecans on top and pushed the oven closed with her hip. “It’s going to take a while. I should go and check on your father.”
“Wait.” Emma untied the apron and draped it over the back of a chair. “I wanted to apologize for the other day when we were in the square…”
Marie sighed. “Emotions were running a little high on both ends, Emma. I know neither of us meant anything bad.”
Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat and stepped in her mom’s direction. “I want us to be able to talk about things without fighting. I really do.”
Lately, the kernel of hope inside Emma had been blossoming, growing until it filled her chest.
She wanted to believe the ice between them was finally melting, that they were finding their way back to each other.
Spending the past few days tiptoeing around each other hadn’t been easy, but Emma understood her parents would never be like her. She had to accept it if they hoped to build a relationship.
After helping her mom tidy up and add a few more decorations around the house that morning, Emma wanted to believe it was a step in the right direction.
But she had to take it further if there was any hope of a real reconciliation.
Marie’s lips lifted into a gentle smile. “I’d like that too.”
“I’ve been working so hard lately that it feels like I’m missing out on a lot with Jules,” Emma continued, pausing to takeanother step forward. “Did you ever feel like you had to choose when you were younger?”
Marie untied her own apron and motioned to her, the two of them stepping into the living room.
