Page 117 of Sing with Me

The carpet on the second floor was plush and new. About every few years, Mom would replace the carpet and some furniture and repaint the entire house—including the library on the third floor that hardly anyone used. It was a waste of money, but it gave Mom something to do between her trips to Paris to see her youngest daughter.

“Right. So you are keeping your emotions in check.” Mom walked toward her bedroom door.

“Not when we find out who took Elisa. I’m going to beat the tar out of her abductors.”

“Emotions.” Mom wagged a finger. “Let the law work its course.”

“You’re so wise, Mom.” Diehl hugged her. “Do you want me to come get you at six?”

“Don’t forget I’m eating dinner with the Bishops tonight.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Diehl had already forgotten. Truly, he did not want to see Zeta. Isobel had looked like her, with dark wavy hair. Every time Diehl saw Zeta, all the memories of his sorry life with Isobel kept flooding back. That had been one of the reasons he went home to Brinley’s beach house on Wednesday night instead of staying here with his kids.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll have Malik come get you,” Diehl said.

“You’re not eating with us?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be in two hours.”

“I’ll be working at Malik’s office. You heard him. Helen’s PI is coming to town. I’ll have a working dinner with Malik. We need to go over some stuff.” Whatever stuff it was, it was going to be more important than eating dinner with the Bishops.

After Mom shut her bedroom door, Diehl bounded down the stairs to the kitchen, and heard laughter even before he reached here. Skye and Ethan having fun.

“Dad!” Ethan said when Diehl entered the kitchen. He was stirring something in a mixing bowl. Flour was on his forehead. “We’re making Elisa’s favorite food. She might be hungry when she gets home.”

If she comes home.

“We just made pigs in a blanket.” Ethan pointed to the oven. “When do they come out of the oven?”

“In a few more minutes,” Skye said. She had on an apron, and looked very domestic.

“If you eat all that, you won’t be able to eat dinner,” Diehl said.

“Grandma said it’s okay if we eat our own dinner at five instead of at six.”

“Did she?”

Ethan nodded. “She said she’ll eat with my other grandparents, but she really wants Grandpa Ned here. Can you call him and tell him to fly home for dinner?”

Diehl felt bad. It was his fault that separated his parents. He made a mental list to call Dad and talk to him about the family business. There was something he had been wanting to talk to him about—long before he burned out.

The signs had been there.

The oven buzzed. Skye opened the oven. The pastry-wrapped hot dogs looked delicious.

Ethan jumped up and down.

“Don’t get too close to the oven door.” Diehl put out his arm between Ethan and the oven.

“We have to taste-test them,” Ethan declared. “If they’re good, we’ll make another batch when Elisa gets here.”

Diehl approached them. “Do you know something we don’t, Son? When is Elisa getting here?”

Ethan shrugged.

What if Elisa didn’t come home? What if she was dead?

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