“Merry Christmas, Bailey. I heard you were lurking around. You look so pretty. I’m glad you’re here. Griff, can you drive my little sister home? I’m meeting some people.” He came over and hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Then he left.

On the way home, we decided not to discuss my brother. After all, Henry’s disappearing act was nothing new. The strain between them was.

Chapter Two

My coming home to Daddy’s empty house wasn’t new either. Daddy couldn’t stand not working. He taught us all to be workaholics. I turned on a few lamps and went upstairs to my bedroom. It was just as I had left it.

Next to my bed was the stack of Architectural Digest and other design magazines that kept me company when I was growing up without a mother. Or friends. And later, when my men went off to college. They were old, dog-eared, and frayed like stuffed animals. They were loved. I had found the antidote for loneliness within those sleek pages of sophistication. I also found what I wanted to do by studying the lines and moldings in the pictures. I remember the day, a Monday, when I discovered Julian Palmer. He was featured in a “Dining by Design” article. I even remember the cover. It featured a foyer with a round table. Blue hydrangeas adorned it. He designed restaurants for a living.

Wait. What, that’s a job?! Sign me up. My heart, which suffered from low-grade sadness, sprung to life with joy. Exhilaration. I devoured design magazines the way other adolescent girls craved magazines that featured the latest heartthrobs. Who knew my salvation could be delivered monthly? I secretly imagined my interview in the magazine.

“Tell us about yourself Bailey Edgeworth,” the question would go.

“I grew up surrounded by good men and good food. I grew up appreciating the smell of hash browns cooking in grease. And cinnamon. And brioche baking in the oven. The smells that wafted from my daddy’s kitchen and connected me to the best part of my childhood. Daddy and Henry had butter and sugar coursing through their veins. Recipes sparked their imagination. Well, I couldn’t cook my way out of a paper bag.” I weighed what I had just disclosed. It surprised me how little my answer had changed over the years. I would continue.

“It was your splendid magazine that ignited my own ambition.” Maybe I would even describe the issue when I discovered Julian Palmer.

I thought again about the piece of paper in my purse. I was twenty-five, still young enough for something like this to come true. I noticed the other magazines nestled to the side. It was all the magazines that my brother and Griffin had appeared in.

I heard a knock at my door. “Come in, Daddy.”

“It is so good to have you home, Bae. I’m sorry, honey. I just let the time get away from me. Everything all right?”

This had been the extent of our conversations when I was a teenage girl. “I am just fine. See you in the morning.” I could tell he was grateful for the reprieve. Poor Daddy. Neither one of us expected raising a girl would be so difficult. While my magazines kept me company, they were no match for the rambunctiousness and noise the boys made. The house was silent when they went off to college. So were Daddy and I.