Before she can, the door swings open and Caroline and Misty slip inside.
Emma groans, cheeks pink. “Okay, confession time. Eric told me he told you about my appointment, so expecting you to come, I invited Misty and Caroline for tea and cookies. And you’re coming with us.”
Caroline, twice in a day?
“Since when do you do tea and cookies?” I whisper.
“Look,” Emma says gently, “I know we have history, but she’s changed. And she’s expecting. It’s hard to be mad with a pregnant woman.”
I lift one eyebrow. “I know. She came by with a low-calorie apple pie this morning.”
Emma smiles. “See?”
“This town has softened you,” I tease.
Misty sweeps me into a hug. “It’s so good to have you home.”
“It’s good to be back,” I whisper.
Caroline nods, polite but reserved, and we all pile into Emma’s car for the short drive to Eric and Emma’s. The ride is gentle, Misty humming along with the radio, and Emma rubbing her belly.
My brother’s house greets us with sunlit walls that smell of mint tea and cinnamon toast. My mother nearly barrels through the door, arms wide, as if she didn’t see me yesterday.
“My baby!” She envelops me in a hug scented with rosewater and home. She ushers out plates of cookies, cheese puffs, and pickles, doting on baby Albert until his cheeks bloom with an extra dimple.
We settle onto the back porch, feet propped on the rail, steaming tea in hand, watching the river’s lazy flow. I remember every milestone of my life unfolding here, from weddings we’ve hosted for friends, to celebrations of life, all by this riverbank.
A breeze drifts off the river, and I shiver. Across the porch, Caroline meets my gaze with a soft, understanding smile.
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” she says, voice gentle, eyes distant. “But pregnancy… It changes your world. Emma gave me a second chance I didn’t deserve.”
She takes a slow sip of tea, grounding herself. “Before I moved back from LA, I was in an abusive relationship. He wasn’t just violent. He was cruel. Gaslighting, manipulative.” She exhales as though she’s been holding that confession for years. “When I reopened my practice, I vowed to fight for women like me. I just won a case for a tenant stalked by her landlord, and I’ve never lost a domestic violence trial.”
Her words land like stones in my chest. I tighten my grip on the mug. Could I do the same? Could I stand up to Mike that way?
Emma’s eyebrows lift. “Annabelle?”
I lean forward, voice low. “This guy, Mike, was my landlord in San Francisco. And I’m sure he’s not happy I left.”
Misty’s head snaps up. “Mike? I heard a guy named Mike at the coffee stand this morning. Gave me the creeps.”
A chill runs down my spine. He’s here. I can feel it..
I glance between Caroline and Misty. “That’s what I need to talk to you both about. Mike Bishop wasn’t just my landlord.”
Misty freezes, eyes narrowing. I see the recognition hit her like a slap.
Caroline glances between us. “Who’s Mike Bishop? Misty—isn’t that your last name? Is he following you?”
“Mike Bishop is one of Huntz’s sons.” My voice drops lower. “He has a fraternal twin—Rick. They’re your half-brothers, Misty.”
She straightens like I punched her. Color drains from her face.
“And I think Mike’s here because he wants Huntz’s land. Your land. And the money.”
Misty clasps my hand hard. “Fucking Huntz.”
Her voice is steel.
