Her sister was also good-looking and good-natured. Well, except when it came to Darby. Erika’s animosity was well deserved.
What had happened to Darby? Why had she chosen to be a mean girl?
Oh, yeah. She’d taken to heart the old saying that the best defense was a good offense and found that donning the mean girl persona was a great defense against all kinds of insecurity. Plus she’d thought it was cool, almost like a superpower that left lesser mortals running scared. Lower others and raise yourself. The attitude and the snarky remarks became so habitual she never noticed them. They became who she was.
Who you were, she reminded herself.Not who you are anymore.
She suspected she was going to have a hard time proving it.
Chapter2
Eagledale was a small town, surrounded by pasture and farms with mountains in the distance and the Canadian border not far away. In keeping with the holiday spirit, snow had fallen, carpeting streets and frosting roofs. Daylight was fading and Christmas lights were winking on. Smoke curled up from chimneys. Welcome to Norman Rockwell Land.
Darby’s family’s house, a two-story Craftsman-style home on a corner lot, sat on a nice street with nice homes and nice people living in them. It came complete with a long front porch, a fireplace (perfect for hanging stockings at Christmas), and a large front yard where Darby and her friends had played freeze tag when they were kids. It had three bedrooms, one of which Darby and Erika had always shared. With only a two-year difference between the sisters, it had meant no privacy and plenty of fights over who controlled the TV their parents had let them have in their room. Darby almost always won.
They’d be sharing that room again. This year, Erika could watch whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Hopefully the sound would fill the vacuum between them.
Mom knew all was not well between the sisters. When Darby had protested having to return to childhood and share a room, she’d merely said, “This will be good for you two.”
Right. In a parallel universe.
“I told your sister the same thing.”
So, Darby hadn’t been the only one who wasn’t thrilled with the sleeping arrangements. But, of course, being the perfect one, Erika must have acquiesced. Anyway, when it came to mapping things out for everyone for the holidays, Mom was a force to be reckoned with.
Darby walked into the house and was greeted by the aroma of pot roast. Her favorite. That meant there would be carrots and potatoes and Mom’s homemade biscuits. Their old dog, Jackal, a golden lab, hobbled up to her, tail wagging, and she knelt to give him a hug and a face rub.
“Hey, you old boy,” she said, and he moved in to give her a doggy kiss. Good old Jackal, he’d always loved her.
“Our girl is here!”
She looked up to see her mother rushing toward her, arms outstretched. Mom wasn’t as slender as she’d been when Darby was little. She’d packed on some pounds and hadn’t bothered to unpack them.
Darby had found it rather embarrassing when she was a teen fashionista. She’d outgrown that, though, and now there was something comforting about seeing this fifty-three-year-oldwoman with a thick waist and thick brown hair with threads of gray sneaking in. Crinkles now formed at the corners of her mother’s eyes, looking at Darby with such love. Mom could have been in a greeting card commercial. Her very appearance said Home and Love.
By the time Darcy stood, Mom was on her, hugging her like the prodigal she was. “It’s so good to have you home.”
Darcy hugged her back. “It’s good to be home.”Sort of. At least, it was good to see her mom.
Other facets of her holiday return were a different matter. She felt like an ill-prepared cage fighter getting ready to step into the cage with the champ. Only a few months ago, she’d been so snatched, so cool, so confident. That was sure gone. Would there be any merry in this Christmas?
“Put your things away, then come on out to the kitchen,” Mom said. “Erika’s in there. She’s got her hands in pie dough at the moment.”
Of course she did. Erika was the artsy one. She was probably shaping dough into little trees to top the pie crust.
“It’s the last of the blackberries from the freezer, by the way,” Mom added. “I’ve been saving them for when you came home.”
A traffic jam of emotion clogged Darby’s throat, making it hard to get out a thank-you.
“Hey, it’s not just for you,” pointed out her brother. He would obviously help keep her humble while she was home.
Cole lugged her suitcase upstairs, leaving her to bring the carry-on. She freshened up, then put away her things inthe same old dresser and closet she and Rika had used when they shared the room. Rika had taken the two bottom drawers, just as she had when they were growing up, and the rest of her clothes—properly stylish for an up-and-coming movie production assistant—were hanging in her side of the closet. Darby hung up hers, then took a deep breath and went back downstairs.
Only Mom and Erika were in the kitchen. Mom had a cup of tea already on the table for Darby, along with a small plate holding two pieces of pink divinity. Darby’s favorite.
Mom was back at the stove, stirring a pot with the pie filling, as Erika put the bottom layer of crust in a fluted pie pan.
She barely looked up as she worked. “Hi, Darb.”
