And yet she hadn’t seen a hint of that soft, clingy Camille since she’d arrived. “You wanted me here,” she repeated, softly, reaching for her mom’s hand, squeezing the cold fingers. “Now let me do something.”

“You’ve done plenty. You brought Socks back. You went and talked to the fire marshal.”

“Joe.”

“I invited him to our grand opening of Creative Interiors II tomorrow night. He’s been very kind. I’m going to send him a box of my teas. I think he could use some peace and tranquility.”

Summer didn’t want to think about Joe, needing tranquility or otherwise, because thinking about him at all confused her. The memories of her youth were all tied up with memories of him. He’d been her best friend, her rock. Her everything. Granted, their relationship had been decidedly asexual, but she honestly believed that that’s what had made it so strong and binding.

But then, like everything else in connection to O.B., she’d let it go. She’d let it all go, and life had gone on without her. Twelve years, gone, like a breath of air, and now Joe was no longer that scruffy kid, but a full grown man who disturbed her in ways she couldn’t really grasp.

No, she didn’t want to think about him fitting into his quiet intensity, having sex on his desk with a beautiful woman who clearly had claimed him as her own.

Did the two of them talk into the wee hours of the morning? Did she say his name softly when he moaned with fear in his sleep from the old nightmares? Did she know he was addicted to Dr Pepper but hated Coke?

Undoubtedly she did, and that made Summer feel like brooding when she had no right to do so.

But the fact was, nothing here was the same. Not Joe, not her mom, nothing.

And actually, she could live with that, she could. She just wanted to find her place. “Mom.”

Camille stopped and sighed, softening on the spot. “Honey, listen. You came when I called you. That means everything to me.”

“And I’m still right here. Ready to be needed some more.”

“But for how long? I mean I just don’t see you staying, Summer. I don’t.”

Why that hurt when it had always been the utter truth, she had no idea. Camille had never complained, or even let on that she’d have liked more than that from Summer. She’d said nothing at all, and in return, Summer had taken that as tacit permission to stay gone.

But now she wondered at all she’d missed. At what her absence had meant to Camille. Maybe her mom thought she didn’t care, that she’d left and had never looked back.

“How long do you really think you’ll stay?” Camille asked.