“Nick.” Her father’s deep voice jolted her back to the present. He used his version of her middle name, something he only did when he truly wanted her attention.

“Hi, Dad. You’re looking pretty handsome tonight,” Emily said as she leaned in to give him a hug. “Looks like you and Mom invited the entire town.” She nodded at the growing crowd.

“Thanks. You’re as beautiful as ever, kid.” He gestured at the folks below. “You know your mother. Any reason to celebrate, she’s happy as a lark.”

Emily raised her brow. “Yeah, I guess tonight is just like all the other parties she’s thrown.” She couldn’t help the bit of sarcasm in her voice. Tonight only happened once in a lifetime. She downed the last bit of champagne, placing her flute on a side table. “I need to mingle,” she said, repeating her mother’s earlier words.

“Nick, I need to speak to you before all the hoopla gets underway,” her dad said in a tone he reserved for only the utmost important conversations.

Her heart rate sped up, a knot forming in her stomach. She focused her attention on him. Was he ill? Her mother? Mimi and Papaw?

“Dad, you’re scaring me. Who’s sick?” she blurted out, skipping any preamble.

“There you are!” Emily’s mother gushed as she reached the top of the grand staircase. “You two should be downstairs with our guests. Mason, you promised me you would pretend to like parties, just for tonight,” her mother singsonged in her sweet Southern accent.

“Julia, you know I adore your parties—it’s just the people who drive me bonkers,” he said to her, placing an arm across her shoulder. He winked at Emily.

Emily observed her parents. Both were still young; in their late fifties, they could pass for a much younger couple. Her mother was as tiny as the day she’d met her dad, her blond hair coiled into a sleek chignon, not a gray hair in sight. Her bright blue eyes sparkled when she smiled at Dad. He towered over her at six three, a head of thick black hair, graying at the sides, his hazel eyes glistening when he looked at her mom. She adored them.

“You are such a party pooper, but I love you anyway. Now, let’s see to our guests.”

As her mother led Emily’s father downstairs, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed the word, Later.

She nodded, unsure she wanted to know what was so important he’d sought her out to tell her privately. Tonight of all nights, couldn’t it wait? Her parents’ retirement party wasn’t the ideal time to drop a bad-news bomb.