Gladness and guilt surged inside me. And maybe . . . a pang of envy? She looked so happy.

“Jokies!” I cried, getting out of the car.

Which is what I always called her. We had always been rivals, for Dad’s attention and, later, for Trey’s. She didn’t confide in me, the way she did in Meg. She didn’t baby me, the way she did Beth. But we were sisters. The funny pet name was my way of establishing a special bond just between us.

Robbie looked in the direction of my voice, stumbled over the mower, and fell.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Jo said. To which one of us? She scooped up her baby, smooching his cheeks and propping him on her hip. She smiled at me over his head. “Hey, Ames.”

I hugged her awkwardly, the baby between us. He peeped at me from her neck, his shy smile revealing a string of little pearl teeth. He had his daddy’s dark skin and curly hair. Eyelashes to die for. “Hello, handsome.” I kissed his forehead gently. “You’re getting so big,” I marveled.

“Nineteen months.” Jo shifted his weight. “Good to see you. Mom wasn’t sure when you were getting in.”

“I wanted to come early to help. Not that you need help,” I added. “Everything looks wonderful.”

“Thanks. Wait till you see the inside,” Jo said.

I trailed her up the wide, shallow steps to the high, shaded porch. Planters of ferns flanked the leaded glass door.

Oak Hill manor was built in 1852 in the Greek Revival style. Aunt Phee’s style of furnishing was almost as old. But the faded velvet drapes and most of the oriental carpets were gone, the pine floors refinished, the walls painted a creamy neutral. The whole effect was light, bright, and inviting.

“Wow.” I surveyed the changes. Tables had been set up in the living and dining rooms. Dining chairs were stacked in the hall. “I thought you wanted a simple wedding.”

“Oh, it’s not for the wedding.” Jo’s face lit with excitement. “Tell her.”

Only one man brought that light to my sister’s face. I turned to see her honey, Chef Eric Bhaer, striding from the direction of the kitchen. Arm-Porn Guy, I’d dubbed him when they first got together. He kissed Jo and hefted their baby in the air, making him squeal with delight, before wrapping me in a big bear hug.

“Amy! Spatz!” Sparrow, in German. I felt a little glow at the special pet name. “It’s so good to have you here.”

Here was the welcome I’d hoped for. Eric was such a great guy. There was a time I couldn’t imagine how Jo could possibly reject Theodore Laurence III in favor of, well, any other man. But obviously my sister had made the right choice. Which only proved—didn’t it?—that I was over Trey. “Tell me what?” I asked.

“Eric’s opening a restaurant,” Jo said.

“Another one?” I asked.

Jo nodded, beaming. “Here at Oak Hill.”