“So, the Rutledge family is back together.”

“Yes, if we can ever gather in a room together again,” Linnea said wryly.

The sound of a car pulling in, followed by two short beeps of the horn, had them turning their heads.

“You’ve got company,” said Emmi, looking over her shoulder into Linnea’s driveway.

“That must be Annabelle. She’s moving into the house today.” Linnea felt spurred to movement. “Do me a favor? Corral that puppy in her crate. I’ve got to welcome her.”

“Child, I can’t keep up with your goings-on!” Emmi called after her as she hurried out of the garden.

“You’re here!” Linnea called out when she saw Annabelle climb from her Subaru. Her tall, lanky figure was clad in somber brown pants that clung to her long legs, a black T-shirt under a torn jeans jacket, and brown ankle boots. A far cry from the denim shorts and 1940s-era red-and-white-checked shirt that Linnea had on. Annabelle’s red hair was bound up in a messy bun and, her hands filled with a pot of trailing vine, she kicked the door shut with her boot. The door of the old green car creaked loudly and didn’t quite close.

Annabelle turned at the sound of her voice and peered at Linnea through large aviator sunglasses. “Ready or not, here I come.”

“Welcome,” she called, hands out to assist her friend. From the corner of her eye she spied Hope running from the garden.

“Incoming,” Annabelle said wryly as she handed the plant to Linnea.

Hope careened to a stop beside Linnea and looked at Annabelle in a proprietary way. “Who are you?”

Annabelle, Linnea quickly discovered, treated children as she did adults. She crossed her arms, gave Hope a cool once-over, and replied, “I’m Annabelle. Who are you?”

Hope lifted her chin. “I’m Hope Rutledge-Wyatt. I live here.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve come to live here too,” Annabelle replied in a serious tone.

“Oh. Then you must be Linnea’s friend. From the aquarium.”

“I am.” Annabelle pointed to Hope’s cheek. “You’ve got a little something there.”

Hope reached up and only smeared more dirt on her face. “Here?”

Annabelle smirked. “Yeah. Nailed it.”

“Let’s bring all your stuff in,” Linnea said. Stepping closer, she peered into the car. There was a bag of groceries, a potted fig tree and a few other small plants, and a single carry-on bag. “Is this all you have?”

“There’s also a bunch of stuff in the trunk,” Annabelle said, walking toward it. She pushed a button and lifted the lid. Inside was one very large, very old suitcase, an open basket filled with shoes, another filled with makeup, and a large black plastic bag stuffed to bursting. It looked like she’d tossed everything she had into baskets and bags.

“I put my furniture and stuff in storage,” Annabelle continued. “I don’t have much, but I like what I have and wanted to keep it. I figured I won’t need a lot here.” She hoisted the suitcase out of the trunk with a grunt and let it slide to the ground with a thump. “It weighs a ton, I’m afraid. No, don’t you try,” Annabelle said, shooing away Hope’s hand. “I can barely lift it. Think you can handle one of the baskets?”