“What is it?” I asked, instantly anxious. “Is it Jo? Mom . . .”

“No word yet.” He paid for the flowers and a candy bar before taking my arm and steering me out of the gift shop.

“Who was the text from?” I asked.

“Trey.”

I forced a smile. “He must be swamped with people buying new cars for Christmas.”

We reached the waiting room. My father had returned to his book. Jo was prowling the narrow aisle between the chairs.

“He wasn’t texting from work,” John said.

“Then what . . . ?”

A man strode down the corridor from the opposite direction, raindrops shining in his hair and darkening the shoulders of his jacket—a young man with bright black eyes and a wide smile.

“Trey!” Jo stumbled over a chair and launched across the room.

He opened his arms, lifting her half off her feet. A moment’s sunshine lightened my heart. Jo could protest all she wanted that she and Trey weren’t meant to be together for always. But he was here now, when she needed him. That had to count for something.

He turned his head, catching her mouth in a kiss.

Jo broke free, her cheek fiery red. “I didn’t mean . . . I was so surprised . . . What are you doing here?”

Trey grinned, looking awfully pleased with himself. “I brought some people with me.” He stepped aside, revealing the girl behind him.

“Beth,” I whispered.

“Beth! Oh, Bethie!” Jo flew at her, laughing and crying.

And . . .

“Amy!”

In a short black skirt and tall black boots, toting a giant carryall. “Meg!” she cried. “Daddy! Jokies!”

Thrusting my flowers at John, I ran forward, wrapping my arms around the girls. We squeezed one another tight, a sister sandwich. “But how did you get here?”

“I picked them up at the airport,” Trey said.

“John bought my ticket. He told me to come.” Beth hugged me, then John, then Jo again. “Thank you.”

“But your show,” Jo said. “Your duet.”

“Colt said he could do a solo.”

“For how long?” Jo asked.

Beth’s thin face flushed. “I have to go back Christmas Day.”

“Our Mouse is old enough be guided by her own judgment,” our father said, hugging her close.

She looked at him anxiously. “You don’t mind?”

He kissed her forehead. “Your mother will be happy to see you.”

Beth beamed.

I looked over Amy’s head at John. “You bought her plane ticket?”

He nodded, slightly smug.

I wanted to kiss him. “But how . . . But why . . .”

“I knew your father hadn’t said much to the girls, and you’d never ask them to come home. So I called them.”

“It was a bitch traveling so close to Christmas,” Amy said. “I had to fly into JFK.”

“How did you even get a seat on a plane?” Jo asked.

“Trey used his miles.” John met my gaze, smiling. “Bumped her up to first class.”