She returned the nod, wishing she could fill the hollowness in her chest with joy at the sight of him.
“You too,” Pete told Abby, pointing toward the coffee maker.
“No, thanks.” She shot a glance toward Seth before lowering her eyes to the box. “Where do you want me to put this?”
Zoe gently elbowed her. “We’ll start loading my truck.” She wanted to avoid her brother as much as Abby wanted to avoid Seth.
Pete held the door. Zoe caught his eye and knew he was thinking the same thing. Today was going to be hell. She set the folder on top of the one containing Elizabeth’s autopsy report and followed Abby outside.
Her multicolored ancient Chevy pickup sat on the street in front of the house, right where Pete had parked after picking it up at the garage last night. “These boxes are light,” she said to Abby. “Let’s put them in the cab for now. We should fill up the bed with heavier stuff that won’t crush first.”
Abby didn’t respond. Zoe noticed the gleam of tears in her eyes, but from the set of Abby’s jaw, Zoe interpreted them to be angry ones rather than sad.
“You wanna talk?”
Abby shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I just didn’t realize he’d be here.”
Zoe opened the passenger door, set her box on the bench seat, and slid it toward the center. “You and I can stick together today and let the men do their own thing.”
Abby gave her an unsteady smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”
A faint rumble grew louder as a black Lincoln Navigator made the turn onto Pete’s street and crawled toward them. Zoe swore, recognizing Kimberly’s rental vehicle of choice.
“Who’s that?” Abby asked.
“My mother.” Her cousin, Patsy, would be chauffeuring.
The huge SUV parked at the tail end of the string of cars and trucks lined up in front of Pete’s house. Zoe wasn’t surprised to see the two front doors open, but the rear passenger-side did as well. Patsy climbed from behind the wheel. Kimberly exited the other side.
And Tom Jackson stepped out from the backseat.
Forget hell, Zoe thought. Today was going to be Armageddon.
Patsy immediately headed toward her while Kimberly exchanged words with her husband. Zoe couldn’t hear what was said, but Tom’s gaze never left Zoe. Until a few years ago, he’d have given her a loving and goofy grin. Would’ve strode to her and swept her up in a bearhug. Today, there was no trace of a smile beneath the mustache, and his feet appeared rooted in place.
“Hi.” Patsy sounded as if she’d spent days locked in a cage surrounded by predators. Then again, a few hours on a plane from Florida with Tom and Kimberly might well have felt the same.
Zoe returned the greeting but kept her gaze on the action back at the Navigator.
Kimberly said something more to him, still too quiet for Zoe to hear—which struck her as oddly amusing. “Kimberly” and “soft-spoken” were words that rarely graced the same thought. Tom shot a stern glance at his wife before bringing his gaze back to Zoe, still no smile, still no move to approach. Kimberly stamped her boot like an unhappy child and stared up at her husband for another few moments before wheeling and strutting toward Zoe.
“Hello, darling,” Kimberly said with forced perkiness. She caught Zoe by the shoulders and breezed an air-kiss past her cheek. “Are you excited? Only one more week until the big day.”
“I didn’t realize Tom was coming.”
Kimberly released the joyful façade with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, well. We wanted it to be a surprise.” She spread her arms wide. “Surprise.”
Zoe looked at her. Was Kimberly exhibiting a sense of humor? Zoe choked at the idea of her mother trying to be funny. She turned her gaze to Patsy, knowing her cousin would be a better source of truth. “What’s going on?”
Patsy raised both hands. Don’t ask me.
“Tom is being such a man,” Kimberly snapped. She looked back at him and then at Zoe. Lowering her voice, she said, “You should talk to him. He wants to patch things up with you, but he’s being a stubborn jackass. Says this…” Kimberly made fluttering circles with both hands. “…disagreement was your doing, and it’s up to you to make the next move.”
“Next move? That implies he’s made one. I apologized—or tried to—the last time he was here.”
Kimberly narrowed her eyes at Zoe. “You believed he was a murderer. Your fiancé arrested him and made terrible accusations. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t nearly enough.” She looked away and huffed. “It was all I could do to talk him into coming with me to my only daughter’s wedding.”
Zoe gazed at the man standing as still as a statue, tall and stoic with his hands buried in the pockets of a long black wool coat. After her father had been killed, this was the man who’d done his best to fill her dad’s shoes, had been her champion, a buffer between her and Kimberly.
Now Kimberly was attempting to be the buffer between Zoe and Tom.
“I hate the way things have been between us the last few years.” Zoe met her mother’s gaze. “I want to patch things up. But right now? We have a whole crew here to help us move. Now isn’t a good time.”
Kimberly leaned closer to Zoe, her voice a whisper. “Sometimes now is all we have. Go talk to him. Make a start. A bridge isn’t built in one day.”
Zoe swallowed. Looked at Abby, then at Patsy, seeking help. Neither offered anything other than agreement with Kimberly.
“Talk to him,” she said again. “Then Patsy can drive us to our hotel, and we’ll get out of your way.”
And out of the work. But the thought of Kimberly fretting over a broken nail and Tom being cold and distant all day made Zoe more than willing to give them—and Patsy—a pass. “All right. I’ll talk to him.”
Her stepfather continued to stand tall and motionless—no attempt to meet her
