The Homecoming Baby Read Online Free

almost did anyway. The classical music coming through the sound system was low and soothing, and she must have dozed off. She woke with a start, aware that someone nearby was quietly crying.
    For a moment she imagined she was back with Rose Gallen, watching the Kleenex pile up. But, as the sleepy fog lifted, she realized she was in the reception area…and the crying was coming from behind the high reception counter.
    She struggled to her feet. “Trish?”
    The crying stopped. By the time Celia made her way to the edge of the counter, Trish had stood up and was smiling as she subtly dashed away wetness from beneath her eyes.
    â€œOh, hi! I’m sorry. I thought you were still back with Rose.”
    Wasn’t that like Trish, apologizing for crying, as if she had no right to be unhappy, no right to inconvenience anyone else with her problems? Celia took her hand, which was still damp from wiping away tears.
    â€œHey. Tell me what’s wrong.”
    â€œIt’s nothing, really.” But Trish couldn’t quite pronounce her N. She’d been crying long and hard enough to completely stop up her nose.
    â€œTrish.” Celia was worried. Trish wasn’t a big weeper. In fact, she was one of the least self-indulgent people Celia knew.
    At forty-five, Trish’s life seemed to consist entirely of work. Long hours at the clinic, then more hours volunteering in the community. Up early to tend her beloved garden at home, up late to keep her little apartment spotless. It was as if she had assigned herself a perpetual penance.
    â€œTrish, it’s not good to hold things in. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
    â€œHonestly, it’s nothing.” But she must have seen Celia’s stubborn skepticism, because she smiled. “Well, it’s such a little thing. It’s almost nothing.”
    She waved her hand toward a large box on the floor behind her desk. “You know how they were collecting old dresses for the vintage clothing auction?”
    Celia nodded. The local Women’s Club was auctioning off vintage dresses to raise money for the Teen Center. She had donated a couple herself. One from her senior prom ten years ago, and a couple ofbridesmaid’s dresses, which weren’t quite vintage, technically…but close enough.
    She knew she’d never wear those stiff, uncomfortable gowns again. She hated dressing up—her daily wardrobe was all long, full skirts, gypsy tops and khaki slacks and blue jeans.
    â€œWell,” Trish went on, her voice still thick and husky, “I gathered together a lot of Angelina’s old clothes and donated them. They were so beautiful, you know. I’d kept them all these years because…”
    Her voice trailed off. But she didn’t need to finish. Celia knew why Trish had kept them. She’d kept them because they were all she had left of her glamorous older sister, a sister who had disappeared thirty years ago.
    â€œOh, Trish,” Celia breathed. “That was unbelievably generous.” She knew how hard it must have been to let them go. Only Trish, so schooled in self-denial, would have been able to do it.
    â€œI thought they might bring in quite a bit of money. And you know the Teen Center needs all the help it can get.”
    â€œThey must have been absolutely thrilled.” That was an understatement. Heaven only knew what Angelina’s wardrobe must have been worth.
    The Lindens had once been the premiere family of Enchantment. Angelina had disappeared before Celia was even born, but everyone knew the story of the rebellious princess who roared through the night on the back of the town bad boy’s motorcycle, silkyblack hair flying in the wind, red sequins flashing in the moonlight.
    â€œNo,” Trish said. “They definitely weren’t thrilled. This box was delivered to me an hour ago. The Women’s Club thanks me for the offer, but they’re afraid they won’t be