Emma suddenly realized what he was talking about. Neither Mrs. Mercer nor Laurel knew that she and Mr. Mercer had been in contact with Becky. Laurel didn’t even know Becky existed. As far as she knew, Sutton
had been adopted from an anonymous stranger. As for Mrs. Mercer, she’d banished Emma’s mother from the household years before. Emma shot a panicked look at Mr. Mercer. He clung to the back of the chair as
if bracing himself.
Mrs. Mercer seemed to notice Emma’s anxiety and gave her a weak smile. “Honey, it’s okay. Your father and I have talked about this. I know everything. You’re not in trouble.”
Laurel looked sharply at her mother. “What are you talking about?” Her gaze shifted to Mr. Mercer. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on?”
An awkward silence descended on the room. Mrs. Mercer stared down at her lap, while Mr. Mercer adjusted his tie uncomfortably.
Emma swallowed hard, meeting Laurel’s eyes. “I finally met my birth mother.”
Laurel’s jaw fell open, her neck jutting forward in surprise. “What? That’s huge news!”
“That’s not all, though,” Mr. Mercer broke in. His mouth twisted downward unhappily. “Laurel, honey, the truth is, Sutton is our biological granddaughter.”
Laurel froze for a moment. Then she slowly shook her head, staring at her father. “I don’t understand. That’s impossible. How could she be your . . .”
“Her mom—Becky—is our daughter,” continued Mr. Mercer. “We had her when we were very young. Becky left home before you were even born, Laurel.”
“But . . . why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?” Angry pink spots appeared in Laurel’s cheeks. “This is insane.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry we never told you before.” Mr. Mercer’s voice had a pleading note to it. “We thought we were making the right decision. We wanted to protect you girls from our own mistakes.”
“She’s my sister!” Laurel snapped, her voice shrill. For a moment, Emma thought she was talking about Sutton—but then she realized Laurel was referring to Becky. “You kept my sister from me!”
Emma’s fingers clutched her dress, her knuckles pale from the force. After everything she’d been through, she was startled to find she was still afraid of a Class Five Laurel Tantrum. But she couldn’t
blame Laurel for her reaction. Emma had spent so much time thinking of Becky as her missing mother that she’d almost forgotten Becky and Laurel were sisters. Laurel was right; it wasn’t fair that she’d
never been given the chance to know her.
“Where is she? What’s she like?” Laurel demanded. Emma opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Mrs. Mercer spoke.
“Troubled.”
That one soft word seemed to fill the room. They all looked toward Mrs. Mercer, who was quietly crying, her hand pressed to her lips. The sight of her mother in distress seemed to derail Laurel’s anger. She
bit her lip, and her eyes softened.
Mrs. Mercer continued, her hand lowering to her heart. Her voice was low and shaky, barely louder than a whisper. “Becky hurt your father and me so much, Laurel. She’s a difficult person to care for. We
decided that it would be better for all of us if we didn’t have contact with her. She’s done so much damage to this family over the years.”
“It’s not all Becky’s fault,” Mr. Mercer broke in, leaning forward. “She’s mentally ill, Laurel, and your mother and I didn’t really know how to handle that when she was growing up.”
Laurel turned her gaze to Emma again, her face more wounded than angry. “How long have you known all this?”
Emma took a deep breath. She picked up a tasseled pillow from the chair next to her and hugged it to her chest like a stuffed animal, thinking of what Sutton’s answer to this question would be. “I met her
that night in Sabino Canyon. The night of Nisha’s tennis sleepover.”
Emma had done her best to piece together the night that I died, and bits of my memory had come back, too. I had seen Laurel that night, when I called her to pick up Thayer Vega, my secret boyfriend and Laurel
’s longtime crush, and take him to the hospital after someone—probably my murderer—had tried to run him over with my car. I could see the memory register on Laurel’s face, too, her eyes widening as she
made the connection.
“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” Emma said, flinching as she thought of all the other huge secrets she was hiding from the Mercers. “It was really intense, and I just wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”
Laurel nodded slowly. She toyed with the charm on her bracelet, conflicting emotions flitting across her face. Emma knew how she felt—the discoveries she’d made about Becky and the Mercers were still fresh
for her, too.
The room was so quiet they could hear the family’s Great Dane’s breath from where Drake snoozed in a gargantuan dog bed near the fireplace. Mr. Mercer stared out the window, where a pair of cactus wrens
were busily building a nest in the desert willow beyond. After a long moment, Laurel laughed quietly.