The cemetery was already covered in flowers; the grounds crew had taken a jump on spring. I spent as much time with Dad as I could without breaking into a heap of useless mush, and then continued down south to the house, as was my routine. Life had become all about routine again.

Only one thing could change it, and I was still waiting to hear from Vanderbilt.

Gus was out of the house before I even parked my car in the driveway, launching himself at me. “Ember! I missed you! Come see my science experiment. It’s totally rad!”

“Like, totally!” I ruffled his curls and was enveloped by the smell of roasted turkey as we stepped into the house.

“I was so worried, because Dad had all the plans. We’d talked about it so much.”

I dropped down to his level. “But you found them, right?”

“Yeah, they were in his e-mail.”

My grip tightened on his shirt unconsciously. “You can get into his e-mail?”

He nodded, his curls bouncing. “Yeah. Just his personal one. His security question was easy enough because Mom said he’d had the same password for like ever.” He skipped off, leaving me stunned in the foyer.

Mom looked the part of the fifties housewife as she came through the dining room. A quick hug as a greeting, and she was racing back for the ringing phone. Gus showed me his giant spaghetti bridge, which took up a huge part of Mom’s desk in the kitchen. “Good work, bud!”

“It’s the coolest thing ever. I can’t wait to see how much weight it takes to break it!” His eyes lit up.

Mom made the universal quiet-while-I’m-talking-on-the-phone hand gesture that looked like she was conducting assault maneuvers. Gus and I both stifled a grin and complied.

“Sure, that’s not a problem, Chloe. We’re just having some turkey. Why don’t you bring the boys over and eat with us?” Mom paused, listening. “Oh, we could care less what you’re wearing. Just drive over.” She leaned back to check the time on the clock. “I’m expecting you in fifteen minutes. No excuses.” With a smile, she hung up. “Gus, add three more places to dinner.”

“Mrs. Rose is coming?” I pulled down the plates from the higher cabinet for Gus.

Mom smoothed the lines of her apron, a habit I’d learned meant she had more on her mind than what she let on. “She doesn’t sound well.” Distracted, she went about the kitchen, stirring gravy and pulling the turkey out to rest.

I jumped in to help Gus, who asked, “Who is Mrs. Rose?”

I readjusted his fork to the correct side of the plate and centered it. “You remember. Her husband was with Daddy?”

Recognition lit his eyes. “Yeah! Carson and Lewis’s mom!”

“Exactly.”

April danced into the dining room as we set the dishes on the table. Thank God that outfit wasn’t new. She’d quit shopping once Mom had put her into therapy. “Nice to see ya, Ember.” She smiled and took her seat.

“Nice to show up and help, April,” Mom sang back.

April shrugged at me. “How are things up at your place?”

I knew what and who she meant. “There’s nothing new to report.”

“Damn shame that is, to let someone like him just walk—”

“April.” My voice was sharp even to my own ears. “No.”

“Someone needs to set you straight.” She ran her hands down her hair.

“What, like you’re a relationship expert?” She’d barely been back with Brett for two weeks. I was shocked he’d taken her back at all.

“You’re unhappy.” Her eyes bored into mine, resolute to getting her point across. “You deserve to be happy.”

My voice softened with my temper. “I don’t need a guy to make me happy. I haven’t been single since I was seventeen. These last few months have sucked, yes, but I’ve learned so much about myself that I wouldn’t have.” She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “No, really. I can repair a garbage disposal, and change a tire, and spend Friday night with my girlfriends or alone. I have missed Josh; I still miss him every day, but I have to be okay alone before I can ever be with someone else.”

“So good to see my girls getting along.” Mom tossed a skeptical look our way and handed me the bread bowl.

“You know us,” April chimed in with a wink, dispelling the last of the tension.

In that moment, everything seemed so normal, so peaceful. I thought about telling Mom about Vanderbilt. It was on the tip of my tongue for the next ten minutes while we listened to the details of Gus’s science project and April prattle on about prom. When Mom asked me what I thought about my classes, I opened my mouth.

The doorbell rang, and Gus was out of his seat, anxious for his friends and yanking open the door with all of his body weight.

“Gus! Cool! Did you see the new Bakugan we got?” The boys were immediately lost in conversation.

They looked . . . unkempt, which was saying something for the normal Pottery Barn look the Rose kids sported. Dirt covered their shirts and holes consumed the knees of their jeans. Their hair had grown long enough to brush out of their eyes.

“Chloe?” My mom gasped, standing.

Mrs. Rose wore a pair of yoga pants with a torn Colts sweatshirt. Her hair frizzed every which way until it culminated in a knot on top of her head, and her makeup ran down her face. For someone who normally looked like she just stepped out of Ann Taylor, seeing her like this scared me.