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thousand that I could have been with you these past six months, having to care for James during his illness and afterward, with no one but that good-for-nothing Andrew there with you. Did he ever lift a hand to help? I know he didn’t. Lord, but I’ve prayed and prayed for you. Let me look at you. You’re tired; I can see that. You need a cup of tea. I’ll—”
    “It’s all right, Aunt Portia. I’m here to stay. You don’t have to say and do everything in the next five minutes.”
    She grinned sheepishly. “Forgive me, child. I’ve waited so long, so very long—” She gathered Lisette into her arms and sobbed.
    Lisette held her, letting her cry until she was spent. Lisette’s tears came just as readily. Until now, she hadn’t realized how intensely glad she was to be home again.
    “Portia? Who is it? Portia, where are you?”
    Aunt Portia leaned back. “Oh, dear. I’d hoped to prepare you before— Well, there’s no time for that now.” She dried her eyes on her apron. “In the parlor, Jacob. Come and see who’s here.”
    Lisette’s father stopped at the parlor door and peered in, his expression amused, curious, but little more.
    Lisette could hardly breathe. Aunt Portia had written about her father’s spells, his failing memory, the weakening of his mind and body since the fever. It was a miracle he still got around as well as he did. Lisette could see in his eyes, in the deep wrinkles which had settled into his face, it was all true, and more. The tightness in her chest proved heartbreak was, indeed, painful.
    “Papa, I’m home,” she managed to say, the words catching in her throat.
    He came farther into the room, studying Lisette as though she were a new species instead of his daughter. “You look familiar, but I don’t think … I’ve ever …” A light seemed to flicker behind his eyes. “Lisette?” Tears streamed suddenly down his face.
    “Yes, Papa. It’s me.” She held him, cried with him. Oh, God, what happened to this man, such a short time ago considered one of the most astute businessmen in Memphis?
    “I thought you were gone for good.” He pushed her back. “How old are you, now? Sixteen?”
    She tried to smile through the tears. “No, Papa, I’m thirty-two. I’ve been gone eight long years, but I’m home now, to stay.”
    An odd look swept across his face. “Home to stay? Well, sit down; sit down. I’m plumb worn out, myself.” They sat on the divan next to the front fireplace. He continued to smile in that blank way, nodding constantly.
    Lisette glanced at Aunt Portia. Her eyes shone with tears. Looking straight into her father’s eyes, Lisette told him, “I had a fine trip, Papa, coming home from New Orleans. The Cajun Star is a beautiful riverboat. The staterooms were nice, even though small, and standing on the deck, I met—”
    “Want something to eat? I’m starved. Where’s Portia? Portia’s my sister, you know. Takes care of me and my little girl. Couldn’t live without her. Portia!”
    “I’m right here, Jacob. Would you like something from the kitchen?” Her sad expression included a smile and a narrow shake of her head.
    “Haven’t had anything to eat all day,” he told Lisette. “Want something?”
    “No, thank you, Papa.”
    He followed Aunt Portia to the kitchen, muttering all the way about empty cupboards.
    “There’s no food in the house. Can’t find anything to eat.”
    “Now, Jacob, you had breakfast and lunch. Don’t you remember?”
    “Don’t remember eating today. I ate yesterday though. Didn’t I? Starving!”
    Lisette sat alone for a moment in the elegant parlor, fighting emotion, then, as a distraction, rose and slowly toured the room, drinking in the sight of familiar objects and furniture she’d not seen in eight years. The courting couch, Turkish chairs and sofa brought back wonderful memories of growing up in this house. The Chinese Ceremonial Prayer Chest, inlaid with mythical and realistic animal depictions in