"Probably. I just feel like something is off. I can't explain it. He's been…secretive lately. It started after he went to New Orleans for a few days. I thought maybe the trip brought back sad memories. It was the first time he'd gone there since your mother died, since he'd spent a week trying to find her."

My muscles tightened as I debated whether I wanted to tell Vicky my mother was alive. But I couldn't tell her before I spoke to Dani or my father. "Do you think my parents were happy?" I asked instead.

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. "That's a strange question. Of course they were happy. They were very much in love." Vicky paused. "I've always known that Ross could never love me the way he loved Kim. But that's okay because I loved her, too. I was devastated when she died."

I wanted to scream that she hadn't died, but Vicky could not be the first one I told. "I have to go, Vicky. I'm sure my dad is fine."

"Will you tell me if he calls you? Will you ask him to get in touch with me?"

"I will," I promised, then ended the call. It did make me uneasy that my dad had dropped out of touch with everyone. Maybe he did know something. Hopefully, it was just work that was preoccupying him, and he'd call one of us back soon.

With my phone in hand, I walked up the stairs to my mom's bedroom. I moved into the small walk-in closet and looked at her clothes.

As I sifted through the hangers of tops and dresses, my breath caught in my chest. Some clothes still had tags on them, and the tags bore a familiar logo…Two Sisters Boutique.

My mother had clothes from our shop. She must have ordered them online. I couldn't imagine she'd been into the store. But how did she know about it?

If she'd gone to the website, she would have read the section about Dani and me, about how and why we'd started the company, although it was really all about why Dani had started it. I'd just been there to fulfill the "two" part of the Two Sisters.

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed again with emotions. As I searched through the rest of the clothes, the new items were replaced by older tops and dresses. At the very end of the rack was a thick red sweater. An old memory flashed through my head. My mother had worn that sweater the day she left. She'd hugged me hard, and I remembered how soft and warm she'd felt.