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Finn’s department motto was To Protect and Serve. He hadn’t meant anything else. For Emmie. Or her.
* * *
“REMEMBER MISS CLARA’S SHOP, Sierra?” Annabelle asked, having spent the past half hour at her cousin’s bedside. She would have to leave soon to pick up Emmie, who was with Blossom, for her doctor’s appointment. Annabelle’s earlier talk with Finn, except for his parting words, had already ruined her day. “We laughed so hard we couldn’t breathe.”
Sierra waved a limp hand in the air, almost dislodging the IV line in her arm. “Your mother grounded us for the next week.”
Annabelle caught her arm. Sierra had torn out that line before, and half of Annabelle’s visits seemed to involve calling the nurse to redo it. “That was the last time we went to the store,” Annabelle said, “but Miss Clara did have the most interesting things for sale.”
She didn’t go on. All at once the memory didn’t seem funny. At the store, to her horror, Sierra had slipped a cheap, flashy ring in her pocket, and that night Annabelle’s mother had found it. Of course she’d blamed Annabelle, too—Now my daughter is a thief?—and the next summer Sierra hadn’t come to stay. She’d never come again. Better not to pursue this topic, which might bring another angry outburst from Sierra about Annabelle’s parents.
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