Believing (Lily Dale #2)(36)

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Delaney,” Evangeline says politely, reaching down over the railing to shake Dad’s hand— and automatically scoring some points, Calla sees.

“Come on up and sit with us for a little bit,” Ramona invites. “It’s supposed to be freezing out by morning, and we can’t stand the thought of going inside yet.”

Calla looks at her father, anticipating a “thanks, but no thanks.” Instead, he shrugs, saying, “Maybe for a few minutes.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ramona tells him as they climb the steps. “I should have said that last night, first thing.”

“Oh . . . thank you,” Dad says politely.

There’s an awkward moment of silence until Odelia pipes up, “How was your date, Ramona? I forgot to ask you earlier.”

“He was a jerk.”

“Oh, no . . . again?”

Calla really hopes they won’t get into detail. Ramona told her grandmother the other day that lately every man she dates runs screaming from her the moment he finds out what she does for a living.

“Aren’t they all?” Ramona asks with a shrug, twirling the stem of her wineglass back and forth in her palms. She’s barefoot, wearing old jeans with tattered hems. In this light, her face looks really pretty. Calla finds herself wondering if Dad is noticing.

“Someday you’ll find someone worthy of you, hon,” Odelia tells her.

“I’m not holding my breath for that. So . . . have a seat. Can I get you a glass of wine, Jeff? Odelia? Calla, some pop?”

“Pop!” Dad blurts out, and they all look at him.

“Oh, sorry.” He grins. “That just caught me off guard. That’s what we always called it back when I was growing up—I’m from Chicago. And it’s what Stephanie used to call it, too . . . back when we first met.”

Ramona laughs. “Must be a Midwestern thing.”

“This isn’t the Midwest,” Evangeline protests.

“Sometimes it feels that way, though,” her aunt tells her. “So . . . Jeff . . . wine? Pop?”

“Nothing for me.”

Odelia wants a glass of wine, though, and Calla agrees to a Pepsi.

“I’ll get it,” Evangeline tells her aunt, and shoots Calla a look.

“I’ll come with you,” Calla decides promptly. They haven’t had a chance to catch up since they found out about Erin last night.

“While you’re at it”—legs draped over the arm of her chair, Ramona dangles her bare toes in the air—“tell your brother his time is up on the computer.”

“It was up a half hour ago.”

“I know.” Ramona sighs. “I swear, Mason would be online twenty-four-seven if I allowed it. Between these two kids, do I ever even get a chance to use my own computer? No.”

Feeling guilty about her own intrusion on Ramona’s computer time, Calla follows Evangeline inside.

“How’s it going?” Evangeline immediately asks in a whisper.

“So far, so good. He hasn’t figured out anything yet. Make sure you don’t slip.”

“I won’t. And my aunt won’t, either. She knows the deal. Did you hear anything else about Erin?”

“No, but I’ve been out of touch all day. Have you?”

“I checked online earlier and there was some stuff about her being found.”

“Did they catch the guy who did it yet?” Calla asks breathlessly, and feels a stab of fear when Evangeline shakes her head.

“They hadn’t when I last looked, anyway,” she adds, “but maybe something’s happened by now. Come on, let’s go kick Mason off the computer so we can check.”

They cross the living and dining rooms with their comfortable household disorder and head into the den, where they find Mason.

He shares his sister’s slightly frizzy reddish hair, round face, and hazel eyes, only his are more solemn, deeply set behind owlish glasses.

“You have to get off the computer,” Evangeline announces.

“In a few minutes.” Mason is fixated on the screen, not even bothering to look at them. He’s caught up in a game of RuneScape, as usual.

“No, now. Aunt Ramona said.”

“In a few minutes.”

“Now,” Evangeline insists with big-sister authority. “Calla needs to use it.” Evangeline might as well add a sassy So there.

Mason looks at Calla. “You need the computer?”

She hedges. “Not right this second.”

“But you can use it right this second,” Evangeline tells Calla, “because he’s getting off right this second. Like Aunt Ramona said.”

Mason scowls, clicks the mouse, and shoves back his chair. “Whatever,” he grumbles, and leaves the room.

Evangeline grins at Calla. “Sometimes I love being the oldest.”

“And sometimes I’m totally glad I’m an only child.”

“Really?”

“Okay, not really.” Actually, it’s not something she ever thought much about until lately.

If she had a sister or brother, she wouldn’t feel quite so alone since her mother’s death.

For a moment, she imagines what it would be like to have a sister and is caught off guard by an almost overwhelming sense of longing. The ache is so acute that it’s almost a loss . . . almost as though she’s mourning not just her mother but a person who never even existed.