She waved her hand. “Too bad we don’t have those big gold mayor necklaces like they have in England. You could wear one in the parade. I have to go see Forey. She knows who is famous enough to ride on a float.”

“Kelly, I will not—” He quit talking because she’d left the room. He sighed. “Maybe I’ll put a peacock feather in my hat,” he muttered, but when he heard Kelly excitedly talking on her cell phone, his annoyance left him. As always, he was glad to see her happy. Whatever it took, he’d do it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Michaela was tall, slim, with Miguel’s cheekbones and a much-subdued version of Vera’s hair. She was looking at the necklaces hanging on her closet wall. She and Papi had spent an afternoon using a level to stick little hooks in a row so she could suspend all of them. On the top row were the thin, delicate necklaces given to her by Mom and Dad. They had hearts and circles and lockets containing photos.

On the second row were the necklaces she’d bought or had been given during her summers spent with her “other” parents: Vera and Papi, as she called Miguel. They were brightly colored, usually big and often flamboyant.

“Story of my life,” she muttered. “Two of everything.” She reached for a gold necklace with a little circle covered in tiny crystals. Conservative and tasteful.

She was so nervous she dropped it and of course the chain tangled. It was magic the way delicate jewelry chains could tie themselves into knots merely by touching them.

As she left the closet, she told herself to calm down. In her bedroom, she took a few deep breaths and looked around. Her house always brought a smile to her.

It was the little house her mom and dad had lived in when they first got married. It used to belong to a woman called Mrs. Carl. That it was on the same property as the Heritage Harvests main office made an easy commute for her mom. It had taken them two years to restore the Fredericks house. People still laughingly said that Michaela’s first sounds were of nail guns and electric saws because Cait and Dr. Coop took her with them everywhere. “They don’t let that baby out of their sight ever,” they said.

And baby Mike had loved it! As she rocked in her little spring seat, she’d laughed at all the noise. The workmen made her a set of wooden blocks that she played with until she was in the third grade. Now they were stacked on a bookshelf. Worn, covered in faded paints and stickers, they were a prized possession.