Emma glanced up to meet her grandmother’s eyes, so like her own. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I just—I never knew, before coming here, what it was like. To have a family.”

Mrs. Mercer hugged her tightly. Emma could smell her Elizabeth Arden perfume and a faint whiff of Earl Grey tea.

After they pulled apart, they sat for a moment in silence. Emma glanced around the familiar bedroom. Half-melted candles sat in glass jars on the white wood desk, wine bottles full of dried flowers lining the windowsill. Sutton’s pillows crowded every surface, thick and plush. On the dresser, trinkets and mementos were arranged carefully around the large-screen LCD TV—luminous shells, a tiny box inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a white ceramic owl. The room smelled of mint and lily of the valley, just as it had on the first night Emma had arrived. She hadn’t changed much of it since she’d returned to the Mercers’ home as herself. A small pile of books stood on the nightstand, and a vintage Hermès scarf she’d bought at Goodwill lay where she’d draped it over the back of a chair. She’d left all of Sutton’s old photographs pinned to the corkboard behind the desk—but she’d added a few of her own, too. One of Alex standing in front of the Bellagio fountain, the colored lights playing across her face. And one of Emma and Laurel, arms around each other’s shoulders.

So much had happened to her here—in this house, in this room. So much of it had been painful, but that didn’t erase the good. She’d finally found her family. She’d finally found where she belonged.

Mrs. Mercer followed her gaze. “This is your room now,” she said softly, running her hands over Sutton’s pink comforter. “We could redecorate it, however you want it.”

Emma shook her head. “I want to keep it this way, just a little longer. It makes me feel close to her.”

Mrs. Mercer smiled. “Me, too.” She went to the door and put a hand on the frame. “We’ll leave in about a half hour. Come on down when you’re ready.” With that, she was gone.

Emma sat in the silent room for a moment. Next door she could hear Laurel’s music through the wall, the bass line thumping. Downstairs, Grandma Mercer and Mr. Mercer bickered about the tie he’d chosen to wear.