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  “No, thank you,” I said, reaching for one of the sandwiches instead. I bit into one and nearly gagged. “What’s in these?”

  She beamed. “Sophie’s recipe. It’s soy paste with chopped sprouts. I thought they were quite good.”

  I turned to my dad in desperation. “Is there any real food in this house? I’m starving.” I mimicked General Lee’s begging-puppy expression, then rubbed my belly for effect.

  He made a move to stand, but my mother stopped him. “James, we both know that a healthy diet is best for her and the babies. It’s called tough love.”

  With an apologetic look, he sat back down. “Sorry, sweetie, but your mother is right.” He picked up a sandwich and began to chew, and even almost successfully hid his grimace. “And actually, this healthy food isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

  I watched him until he swallowed, so that he couldn’t raise a napkin to his mouth and spit it out.

  I picked up a glass of ice water with lemon off the tray and took a long sip. “So, did you have a nice vacation up in the mountains?”

  My mother hesitated just a moment, giving me time to notice that both she and my father appeared to be sunburned, or windburned, or maybe both. Regardless, their enhanced coloring seemed to dip into the collars of their shirts, making me wonder where it ended.

  “It was lovely, thank you. The weather was perfect—a little on the cool side, but the sun was out every day. We spent a lot of time outdoors, hiking, picnicking—that sort of thing.” The flush in my mother’s cheeks deepened, making me wonder exactly what “sort of things” she was referring to.

  “Our cabin had a hot tub outside,” my father added. “I never thought I’d enjoy such a thing, but it was nice.”

  Both my mother and I looked at him, and probably for the same reason. TMI, as Nola would say. I forced myself to stop wondering where the rosy blush to their skin had come from.

  “Glad you enjoyed yourselves. I had a quiet week myself, except for Nevin Vanderhorst’s exhumation. Detective Riley was with me, and that helped a lot. So was that annoying reporter Suzy Dorf. I allowed her to interview me, which means we need to buy up as many copies of the Sunday newspaper as we can find.”

  My mother sat down next to me, her pinkie extended as she took a sip from her china cup. “Why? Did you say anything you regret?”

  “I don’t think so. But she knows about my ‘special gift’—thanks to Rebecca—and I know she’s going to use the information any way she can.”

  My father stood, lifting General Lee, who’d been napping in his lap, with him. “I think that’s my cue to take the dog for a walk.” He looked pointedly at my mother. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  I waited until we heard the front door close before I turned to my mother. “See what I mean? My own father thinks I’m making it up.”

  “Your father was in the army his whole life. He can only see in black-and-white, and what we do is so far beyond his comprehension that it pushes his limits. I won’t give up on him—and I’ve already seen cracks—but I realize it’s going to take time.”

  “But I don’t want everybody in Charleston knowing about it.”

  She took another sip of tea, swallowing slowly. “Would that be so bad?”

  I was about to reply, Of course, but stopped, no longer really sure what my answer should be. Instead, I said, “I’m just not sure how it will affect my business if people think I moonlight as one of those call-in psychics or something.”

  She placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “Mellie, this is the twenty-first century, where Kim Kardashian can tweet what she did in bed with her boyfriend the previous evening and garner more viewers for her reality show. Or Britney Spears can appear in public without underwear and still sell out concerts.”

  “Please, Mother. I’d like to think that I have more credibility than Kim Kardashian or Britney Spears. Besides, their fans aren’t expecting them to sell their houses.”

  She took my hand in hers, and her skin was soft without her gloves. “What you can do isn’t something you should be embarrassed about. Ever. People can make you feel less about yourself only if you allow them to. And if you think different, I take full responsibility. If I’d been around while you were growing up I would have taught you that, just as my mother taught me.” She sat back. “I’ve never hidden my abilities, and it never hindered my career. It’s just something you should think about.”

  I fiddled with my napkin in my lap for a moment. “Thomas said something along those lines—how it’s a gift I could use to help people. He even asked if I’d want to help out from time to time on some of their cold cases.”

  “So you told him?”

  “I didn’t really have a choice, since Suzy Dorf had pretty much already spilled the proverbial beans. He took it in stride—probably because he’s already seen so much in his line of work and it’s hard to surprise him anymore.”

  “Good,” she said, a small smile settling on her lips. “So you like Detective Riley?”

  “I do. A lot. He’s kind, and considerate, funny, and smart. And he’s family-oriented and loves kids.” I thought for a moment. “But what I like the most about him is that he’s so easy to be with. We’re even happy to just sit together on a park bench without saying anything, or worrying about what the other is thinking. It’s kind of nice.”

  “Well, there’s an adjective I don’t use very often. A new pillow is nice, or finding the perfect mascara that doesn’t flake or run. But in matters of the heart . . .”

  “I wasn’t talking about marrying him, Mother. Only that I like being with him. There’s a big difference.”

  “Just make sure he knows that, dear.”

  I thought about how he hadn’t kissed me yet, although I’d been pretty sure on several occasions that he wanted to. “He does,” I said.

  The front door opened and we turned to see General Lee loping into the room with his tongue dangling, my father panting behind him.

  “How old is that dog? He acts like a puppy. Just about wore me out going around the block. It was like he was chasing something.”

  I exchanged a glance with my mother, both of us recalling Julia Manigault’s childhood pet dog, whose lingering spirit still sometimes came out to play.

  “I inherited him, remember? I have no idea how old he is, but Mrs. Houlihan said he’d been with Mr. Vanderhorst since before she came to work for him ten years ago.”

  We watched as the little dog put his front paws on the coffee table so he could sniff the cookies and tea sandwiches before giving what could only be called a disdainful sigh as he got back down on the floor without taking any food, and curled up under my chair.

  “Smart dog,” I said, grinning with self-satisfaction. “So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

  My mother moved to sit next to my father opposite me. He took her hand in both of his, and that was when the alarm bells started sounding in my head.

  My father spoke first. “Your mother has done me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife. Again. I suppose you can say that we both believe in second chances.”

  “But . . .” I stopped, my gaze going from one familiar face to the other, wondering why they suddenly looked like strangers. “But you’re divorced. Because Dad couldn’t come to terms with who you are.”

  “And because of my drinking, don’t forget,” my father added. “But that was nearly thirty-five years ago. We’re different people now.”

  I stood, not really sure why I was so agitated. “True, but you still call what Mother and I do ‘mumbo jumbo.’ You just had to leave the room so she and I could discuss my ability to see dead people and how it might affect my career if the fact was publicized.” I hit the heel of my hand against my forehead. “For crying out loud, Dad. I’ve been in denial about my abilities almost my whole life because of that. I don’t know how you can just say, ‘Never mind,’ and get married as if it didn’t matter.”

  My mother dropped his hand to come stand by my side. “Mellie, I know what you’re saying. And so does your father. We both know there are things we need to work on, and we both believe strongly that our relationship is worth fighting for.”

  I stared into her eyes, trying very hard to understand her logic, but failing miserably. “But you couldn’t before, and look what happened. Now you know better—why wouldn’t you wait until you solved all of your differences before you make such a giant leap?”

  She smiled patiently at me, the same smile she’d used when she taught me how to tie my shoes. “Because we’ve realized that if you wait until everything’s perfect, until all your differences have been settled and all the stars have aligned just right, then you miss your chance at happiness. That’s what real and enduring love is. It’s being able to see past the disagreements so what’s left is the knowledge that you’ll never be complete without the other person.”

  I blinked back tears that I had no idea why I was shedding. Her words were like flung arrows that seemed to bounce off of me as if I were wearing armor. I suppose forty years of believing that love was fickle and fleeting could become a mind-set that was as impenetrable as a coat of armor.

  I pushed back my doubts and took a step toward them. “Congratulations,” I said, kissing them both. “At least you won’t have to pick out wedding china or find a place to live!” My voice had a forced cheerfulness.

  “Thank you, darling,” my mother said, looking relieved. “We were thinking of just a small ceremony around the first of the year. You’ll still be three months away from your due date, and it’s past all the excitement and busyness of Christmas. Did I mention I’m on the tour of homes again?”

  “No, you didn’t—but if you need me to wear green boughs to look like a Christmas tree, since I’ll be about the same size by then, I’m going to decline.” I smiled. “But instead of January, could you please make it on the same day as Rebecca’s wedding? Then I’ll have an excuse not to go.”

  My mother put her arm around me. “Come, dear, she is family. Besides, isn’t her wedding set for the twenty-second of March? Chances are you’ll have two of the cutest excuses not to go.”

  “We can only hope.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I need to get back to the house. The furniture Amelia ordered for the nursery is arriving today, and I have to corral all of the packages and gifts so that there’s room.”

  “Which reminds me,” my mother said. “Nancy Flaherty called. She wants to give you a baby shower. She wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, so she wanted to ask me first. I think it’s a lovely idea, but it’s up to you.”

  “Well, considering we need two of everything, it would certainly help. All of these recent home repairs have pretty much depleted my bank account. Thank goodness for the trust.”

  My father coughed, then took a large gulp of water. “That’s right. Thank goodness for that.” He leaned down to pet General Lee, so I couldn’t read his expression.

  I turned back to my mother. “So, January?”

  “Yes, if that’s okay with you.”

  “What else am I going to be doing, Mother, besides working and getting bigger?”

  She kissed my cheek, then gave me a tight hug, startling me. “But you also just keep getting prettier and prettier.”

  “Really? I swear only you and Thomas don’t see the real me that I see in the mirror.”

  “And Jack,” my mother added.

  “And Jack,” I reluctantly agreed. “At least that’s three people.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’ve always been your own worst enemy and fiercest critic. It’s time to give yourself a break. You’re growing two healthy children, Mellie. And that’s the most important thing right now.”

  I reached my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Thanks, Mother. I really needed to hear that.”

  I picked up my purse and General Lee’s leash, then walked to the door, my parents following with linked arms. “Hopefully we’ll get the DNA results soon so I can get all of this behind me before the babies arrive.”

  We said our good-byes and I left, hesitating on the bottom step as I considered going back to ask my dad for a ride. Before I could, General Lee took off, leaving me with no choice but to follow, barely hanging onto the leash. Instead of heading down the sidewalk, he ran to the side garden and to the wrought-iron table where I’d once had doll tea parties with my beloved grandmother.

  He stopped in front of the chair where she’d once sat, and bowed his head. I watched as the fur was ruffled as if by an unseen hand.

  “Grandmother?” I whispered to the winter garden. I wanted so badly to see her again, to be the little girl still small enough to crawl into her lap and know that I was safe.

  Be ready. The words were almost too quiet to hear, the sound broken, as if my connection to her world were already lost.

  “Be ready for what?” I asked the scattered leaves that blew at my feet and twisted around the table legs like a snake.

  I strained to hear over the rustle of the leaves and the wind, but the words were too faint. I waited for a long moment for her to come back, but I knew that I was alone. Tugging on General Lee’s leash, I walked slowly from the garden to the sidewalk, wondering whether my grandmother had answered my question at all, or if she’d remained silent with the certainty that I already knew the answer.

  CHAPTER 22

  On Sunday morning, I parked my car on South Battery near White Point Gardens and walked to the pavilion. The temperature hovered in the fifties, but the sky was sunny and clear enough that one could see Fort Sumter and a spectacular view of Charleston Harbor.

  It would have been a lovely day for a stroll along the Battery except that I was dressed in maternity-size Lycra and was meeting Sophie, who had come up with the brilliant idea that we should start exercising together. I told her I would if it would mean she’d stop mentioning the words “water” and “birth” together in the same sentence as “your” and “labor.” Besides, she’d promised me some new information regarding the Vanderhorsts that she assured me would be worth the exertion of a power walk with her along the water.

  I spotted her with her leg up on one of the benches, stretching her calves. She wore a pretty blue Windbreaker that covered her cute baby bump, along with lime green leggings that showed off her petite legs and ankles. She actually wore sneakers, and I wondered whether they were made by Birkenstock, since I didn’t think she knew of any other shoe brand. Her rainbow-hued gloves matched the thick headband that covered her ears and tamed most of her dark curls.

  I wore the same thing I usually did when I walked with my mother and Amelia—mostly a pulled-together ensemble in which my father’s castoffs were prominently featured. At least I had new sneakers, courtesy of my mother. She had told me that wearing my old ones with all the laces pulled out to accommodate my larger feet and ankles was not a good idea, and she was not going to wait until Louboutin or Manolo Blahnik started making athletic shoes.

  I slowed my steps as I approached, the alarming reality dawning on me that for the first time in the years we’d been friends, Sophie was actually better dressed than I was.

  She spotted me and waved, and I waved back, quickly yanking my hand down as my father’s oversize ski gloves flopped back and forth.

  She looked at me suspiciously. “You don’t look like you’ve been walking for several blocks already.”

  “That’s because I haven’t. I drove. I figured that in your condition you couldn’t carry me back if I collapsed from exhaustion.”

  “Right.” She shook her head, then picked up a small backpack from the bench and handed me a water bottle. “I figured you’d forget one, so here you go. Drink some before we get started.”

  Handing it back to her, I said, “I promise to drink all of it when we’re finished. But if I take a sip now, we’ll be stopping for me to go to the bathroom every five minutes.” I patted my belly. “These two have successfully squished my bladder into a space that’s only big enough for a pea. I’m thinking of setting up a cot in the bathroom to save myself the trips back and forth every night.”

  “Is Jack still staying with you?” She took a swig of water from her own bottle.

  I looked at my watch. “Gee, it’s getting late. We should start.”

  “Nice try, Melanie. I’m taking that as a yes.”

  I sighed. “It’s just that Nola and Jack are still working on some issues, and they apparently need me as a referee and someone to listen to them vent. I’m like a cheap psychiatrist.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “And that’s why Jack is still sleeping two doors down from you?”

  Thank goodness I hadn’t mentioned that he’d slept an entire night in my bed. I almost sighed out loud, remembering how nice it had felt to have him there. “Mostly. But I’m still pretty disturbed about the whole window incident. He says he’s happy to stay until they’re replaced.”

  “Do you want me to delay them for another month?”

  I shook my head more vehemently than I felt. “No. Really. I think I’m close to finding Jack the perfect home, so it’s just a matter of time before they’re in their own place with plenty of space for both of them—and the babies.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  A small group of elderly tourists congregated at an adjoining bench, clustering around their leader like Martians around a mother ship. Most wore caps over their white hair, with mitten-covered hands resting on more fanny packs than I’d seen in one place.

  The tour guide’s voice wafted over to me. Indicating one of the many cannons facing the harbor, he said, “These cannons were not used on the attack on Fort Sumter that started the War of Northern Aggression. They would have been out of range. But you can imagine, if you will”—he swept his arm in the direction of the old mansions across the street from the park—“the sheer spectacle afforded those people who stood on their piazzas to enjoy the show.”