Page 147 of Key West Homecoming

She believed he did.

Emma rested against him and let herself cry for a minute. She cried for Gloria and for her father. Most of all, she cried because there was no longer anything Emma had to do to get her grandmother’s voice heard.

When the tears finally stopped, she took a breath and looked at Jake.

“Rebecca’s Cuban sandwiches.”

“Now you’re thinking clearly.”

“I need to fix my face first.”

“You look fine.”

“I look like a woman who just cried on Whitehead Street.”

“You look like a woman who won her grandmother’s house and is about to eat a sandwich. Sounds normal to me.”

Emma smiled. “That sounds much better.”

She let him take her hand. They started toward Rebecca’s house on Simonton. Emma didn’t want to talk about the money or the recovery process. She didn’t want to think about the state attorney’s office or Arthur sitting with Ted Ballard while the consequences of what he’d done finally caught up with him.

Those things would still be there tomorrow.

For now, she wanted lunch with Edmund. She wanted Jake beside her, and she wanted to hear more stories about her grandmother. That felt like the right way to spend the first afternoon the cottage truly belonged to her, and to honor the reason for it.

CHAPTER 24

Rebecca met them at the front door on Simonton. Her hair was still in the same clip she'd worn to the courthouse.

“Come in. He's in the living room telling himself he's fine, which means he isn't. He's tired, and I've already told him he's going to drink some water.” She looked at Emma. “You look like a woman who could use a sandwich.”

“I could, actually. Thanks.”

“Good. I made four. That's for the four of us, and if one of my daughters comes home at three, she's out of luck.”

“Thank you for having us.”

“Please. You're family. Come in.”

Emma stepped into the tiled foyer with Jake behind her. She felt some of the tension leave her body. She'd spent the morning braced for whatever might happen in that courtroom. Now it was over.

Rebecca's house smelled like pressed Cuban bread and pickled onions.

Edmund sat in the wingback chair by the piano. His jacket hung over one arm, and he held a half-empty glass of water in his hand. Emma suspected Rebecca had already reminded him to drink it at least once.

He stood when Emma came in.

“You shouldn't be standing.”

“I stand for the women in my life. I'll sit down again in a moment.”

“You'll sit down now,” Rebecca called from the doorway.

“I'll sit down now,” he obeyed.

Emma smiled as Edmund lowered himself into the chair.

Rebecca disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a plate of Cuban sandwiches cut in half. A small dish of pickled cucumbers sat beside them.