Sierra's Homecoming Read Free Page B

house, I mean?”
    â€œI haven’t seen much of it,” Sierra answered. “Liam and I just got here, and then we had lunch….” Her hand went, of its own accord, to the teapot, and she imagined she felt just the faintest charge when she touched it. “Lots of antiques around here,” she said, thinking aloud.
    â€œDon’t be afraid to use them,” Meg replied. “Family tradition.”
    Sierra withdrew her hand from the teapot, shut the doors. “Family tradition?”
    â€œMcKettrick rules,” Meg said, with a smile in her voice. “Things are meant to be used, no matter how old they are.”
    Sierra frowned, uneasy. “But if they get broken—”
    â€œThey get broken,” Meg finished for her. “Have you met Travis yet?”
    â€œYes,” Sierra said. “And he’s not at all what I expected.”
    Meg laughed. “What did you expect?”
    â€œSome gimpy old guy, I guess,” Sierra admitted, warming to the friendliness in her sister’s voice. “You said he took care of the place and lived in a trailer by the barn, so I thought—” She broke off, feeling foolish.
    â€œHe’s cute and he’s single,” Meg said.
    â€œEven the teapot?” Sierra mused.
    â€œHuh?”
    Sierra put a hand to her forehead. Sighed. “Sorry. I guess I missed a segue there. There’s a teapot in the china cabinet in the kitchen—I was just wondering if I could—”
    â€œI know the one,” Meg answered, with a soft fondness in her voice. “It was Lorelei’s. She got it for a wedding present.”
    Lorelei. The matriarch of the family. Sierra took a step backward.
    â€œ Use it,” Meg said, as if she’d seen Sierra’s reflexive retreat.
    Sierra shook her head. “I couldn’t. I had no idea it was that old. If I dropped it—”
    â€œSierra,” Meg said, “it’s not china. It’s cast iron, with an enamel overlay.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œKind of like the McKettrick women, Mom always says.” Meg went on. “Smooth on the outside, tough as iron on the inside.”
    Mom. Sierra closed her eyes against all the conflicting emotions the word brought up in her, but it didn’t help.
    â€œWe’ll give you time to settle in,” Meg said gently, when Sierra was too choked up to speak. “Then Mom and I will probably pop in for a visit. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
    Both Meg and Eve lived in San Antonio, Texas, where they helped run McKettrickCo, a multinational corporation with interests in everything from software to communication satellites, so they wouldn’t be “popping in” without a little notice.
    Sierra swallowed hard. “It’s your house,” she said.
    â€œAnd yours,” Meg pointed out, very quietly.
    After that, Meg made Sierra promise to call if she needed anything. They said goodbye, and the call ended.
    Sierra went back to the china cabinet for the teapot.
    Liam clattered down the back stairs. “I told you this place was haunted!” he crowed, his small face shining with delight.
    The teapot was heavy—definitely cast iron—but Sierra was careful as she set it on the counter, just the same. “What on earth are you talking about?”
    â€œI just saw a kid,” Liam announced. “Upstairs, in my room!”
    â€œYou’re imagining things.”
    Liam shook his head. “I saw him!”
    Sierra approached her son, laid her hand to his forehead. “No fever,” she mused, worried.
    â€œMom,” Liam protested, pulling back. “I’m not sick—and I’m not delusional, either.”
    Delusional. How many seven-year-olds used that word? Sierra sighed and cupped Liam’s eager face in both hands. “Listen. It’s fine to have imaginary friends, but—”
    â€œHe’s not imaginary.”
    â€œOkay,”