Heather, on the other hand, just wanted to be with her little girl and soak up Hallee’s bright smiles and joyful giggles. She loved being a mother. And yet, for all the happiness Dede saw in Heather when she and Hallee were together, Dede sometimes caught moments when that joy was replaced by a look of deep sadness and regret Dede wished she understood.
But Heather had always liked her secrets. As a kid she’d spy on Amy and Sierra. She knew which one of them ate the last of the cookies without permission. As a teen she knew who snuck in late. Heather relished knowing her sisters’ secrets and letting you know she knew.
She loved sneaking around and listening in when she shouldn’t. Those little things she knew were fun.
But withholding the name of Hallee’s father—and not letting everyone know—seemed to wear on Heather. Still, she refused to divulge the information. And things didn’t quite add up. She said the man knew about Hallee but wanted to remain in the background. In the beginning, he provided for Heather and Hallee, but lately it seemed evident by the number of times Heather asked to “borrow” money he wasn’t even peripherally involved in their lives anymore. And that sadness she saw in Heather seemed to grow.
Dede didn’t mind helping her daughters out when they needed it. But Heather relied on it a little too much. Her fault for spoiling the baby of the family.
And poor Sierra. How much could one young woman take? David had died tragically and unexpectedly nearly a year ago and now she’d lost everything in that devastating wildfire.
Dede barely heard from Sierra these last many months since David’s death. She hadn’t wanted to pry or seem to hover. Sierra thought herself capable and invincible. Dede agreed. But even someone as strong as Sierra could only take so much.
Though she suspected Sierra would come home to evaluate her options, the vulnerability she’d heard in her daughter’s soft voice when she called asking to come home had made Dede’s heart ache. It actually made her pause and think about all the times Sierra swore she was okay, she could take care of . . . whatever, but maybe she’d just been putting on a good front. Sierra always stood on her own two feet, ready for anything. But though she got through it, Dede wondered if she’d let Sierra down by not noticing that deep down Sierra needed her help and support.
Not this time.
This time I’m going to make sure Sierra feels safe and protected and that this new beginning is what she truly wants.
Because Dede suspected Sierra had settled in the past for what she thought was enough instead of reaching for what she really wanted.
Amy came up behind her and glanced out the front windows. Her two children, P.J. and Emma, ignored the plate of sliced apples slathered in almond butter in front of them. Instead, they devoured a second cupcake each.
“Mom, seriously, you couldn’t have gotten something better for them to eat?”
“You don’t have to be the sweets police all the time. A cupcake once in a while doesn’t hurt. And I’m their grandmother. It’s my job to spoil them.”
She’d made the cupcakes for Danny and Oliver, hoping something sweet would make them feel welcome. They hadn’t visited since they stayed a couple of days after David’s funeral. The time before that had been during her own husband’s funeral. She never thought to have that in common with her daughter, but life happens. Tragedy strikes. She wanted to give her grandsons something good to associate with visits with her, something besides death.
And all kids love cupcakes.
“I’m trying to teach the kids to make healthy choices.”
Dede shrugged, wishing Amy would loosen her rigid control over her kids. “You can feed them quinoa and kale all you want. When they’re here, let them be kids instead of organic-health-nuts-in-the-making and enjoy the simple pleasure of a sugar rush.”
Amy turned to P.J. and Emma, who’d been avidly watching to see if Grandma won this argument. “Put the cupcakes down and eat the apples.”
Loud and upset groans punctuated the kids dropping the treats and pushing the plate of apples away.
Dede rolled her eyes. “Moderation, Amy. Teach them that, so they can find balance and not feel like you’re taking things away from them.”
“You never let us gorge on cupcakes before dinner.”
“Unless it was a party or holiday. You know, there’s a time and place