Page 6 of Deathtoll
“It had to be difficult to go up there,” she told her sister. Facing the past was never easy. Neither was facing oneself. “If you ever want to talk—”
“I’m not the one currently messing up the best thing in my life.” Emma was back to flashing heat as she pulled into Hope Hill’s parking lot. She stopped in front of the main entrance. “Okay, off you go to make other people feel better while you’re an emotional wreck.”
“I don’t want to spend your visit fighting.”
“This is the first chance I’ve had to tell you how I feel, all right? The first year you were back, I was just happy you were back. And Mom and Dad would have killed me if I looked at you sideways. The second year, I was working at the London office. I have a lot of pent-up emotions about this.” Then her expression softened. “I still think you should have told me you weren’t dead. But you came back. And here we are together. And I’m glad for that.”
The words peeled a layer or two of tension off Kate. “You know I love you. You’re the best sister ever. I’ve missed you so freaking much.”
“Me too.” Emma offered a semi-smile at last. “Wait until I tell Mom and Dad that Murph proposed.”
“Please don’t. Not yet.” Kate wasn’t ready to bring even more people, and more opinions, into her mess.
Emma’s lips snapped back into a tight line. “You’re going to keep it a secret.”
“Let’s fight about this later?” Kate unfastened her seat belt and wiggled out of the car with her bag on her lap. “Thanks for the ride. Try not to get into too much trouble and terrorize the townsfolk with your LA, big-city ways.”
Her sister accepted the attempt at ceasefire with “Does that mean I can’t get a nipple piercing in the shop window of the tattoo parlor on Main Street?”
“There are no tattoo parlors on Main Street.”
“Freaking small-town morals.” Emma rolled her eyes as she drove away.
Kate smiled. The lighter mood was good. They would work through their issues. They loved each other too much to let anything stand between them.
The janitor was sweeping dead leaves off the steps. Behind him, potted evergreens bracketed the covered entry, topiary hemlocks flanking the double doors. WELCOME, the sign said in golden letters on the glass. While the doormat proclaimed, WE’RE GLAD YOU’RE HERE.
Thiswas the dream that had brought Kate back to Broslin, the dream that she and Murph had planned endlessly in Ohio. Hope Hill was a state-of-the-art rehab facility for disabled vets, with the most comprehensive range of alternative therapies in the country.
Once, the building had been a sketch on a piece of paper towel, the design hatched over breakfast. Now the facility and its services were real, financed partially from the hundred grand Murph had received as reward for leading the police to a bank robbery gang right before he and Kate left Broslin. In addition to that, Kate had run a million fundraisers. Then they’d applied for government grants for the rest. They’d created something out of nothing, a place of healing that actually helped people.
She might have had doubts about Murph on the personal-relationship front, but she couldn’t deny that professionally, they made a great team.
“Hey, Joe. How is Gracie?”
“All better.” The fifty-something janitor paused his work. “Cast is coming off tomorrow. She says to thank you for the delicious lasagna. We appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
ThenMaria sailed through the front door, the new therapist.
“Forgot my phone in the car,” she told Kate. “My brain is mush in the morning. This is why I schedule paperwork for the first hour instead of an appointment. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Therapeutic massage is not the same as talk therapy. Even if my brain is asleep, my fingers know what they’re supposed to be doing.” Kate’s gaze dropped to the woman’s enviable red pumps. “Hot date after work?”
And,ooh, the dress was nice too, now that she was paying closer attention. Deceptively simple, a subtly shimmering charcoal gray—but the cut hinted at a designer boutique.
Maria wiggled her eyebrows. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
“Done.” Kate entwined her fingers and held them up. “Do I know him?”
“Probably not. Clinical psychologist from Philly. We met at that conference last week.”
“He didn’t waste any time asking you out.”
Maria’s grin widened. “Second date.”
Kate tried a wolf whistle. Failed. Maria started down the stairs, laughing.
