Flamingo Diner by Sherryl Woods Page A

too late.”
    Still not fully comprehending just how dire things were, Emma had merely nodded. “We’re already planning to open tomorrow.”
    “That’s good then. If I were you, Emma, I’d hire a good financial planner who can look over all of this and get you back on track.”
    On track. His words echoed now. When—how—had they gotten off track? Her father had always been so savvy about finances, so conservative. Emma knew her mother’s head had to be reeling with the same questions. She would never forget the dazed expression on her mother’s face as the reality of their situation had sunk in. It was as if this final blow had been too much.
    After the others had gone to bed—or out, in Jeff’s case—Emma had wrestled with her options. She had only one, really. The work she loved was in Washington, but her family was here and they needed her. Holding back tears of anger and frustration, she had called and broken the news to Marcel that she wouldn’t be back.
    “Sweetheart, you can’t do this,” he’d protested with satisfying dismay. “It’s not just that I need you.You’ll perish in that abysmal little town. You need to be doing the kind of work you love.”
    “And one of these days I will,” she insisted. “It just can’t be now.”
    “Please, don’t close this door, Emma. Stay another week or two, till things are back on an even keel, then come back to Washington.”
    “I don’t think things here can be fixed that fast,” she’d told him honestly. If she and Matt and the ME all reached the same conclusion, that her father’s death hadn’t been an accident, she was determined to find out what had driven him to commit suicide.
    “Take a month. I can manage for that long,” Marcel assured her. “Then get back up here where you belong. Your job will be waiting. The customers ask about you every day. You’ve gotten to know them. They trust you. Even that sourpuss designer Noreen Winchell told me what an asset you are to the store and how much she relies on you to help her find the perfect objet d’art for her clients.”
    As pleased as she was by his coaxing words, as badly as she wanted to say yes, Emma knew that two weeks or even a month wouldn’t be nearly long enough to make things right for her family. The handwriting had been on the wall after the meeting with the attorney.
    “Thanks, Marcel. I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I think you should be looking for someone to replace me.” She’d put the phone down before Marcel could argue, before she could be tempted to accept his very persuasive offer.
    Five minutes after she’d hung up on Marcel, Kim had called. She’d checked in several times sinceEmma had gotten to Florida, but this call was no coincidence. Emma knew it.
    “Marcel just called me. Don’t do this,” Kim pleaded. “I know you feel responsible for making things right, but nothing will be right, if you’re miserable. Don’t be a martyr. Your mom, Andy and Jeff can manage.”
    “They can’t,” Emma said. “Mama’s fallen apart. Jeff’s on the verge of doing something crazy. Andy’s barely speaking to me. I have to fix this.”
    “Some things people have to fix for themselves,” Kim replied. “Sweetie, this is not what your father would have wanted.”
    “I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think any of us know anymore what my father wanted,” Emma admitted, venting her frustration to the friend who’d known her for so many years. “We’re facing a whole slew of unanswered questions.”
    “Maybe you just have to let them go,” Kim responded quietly. “Maybe the only thing to do is to move forward.”
    “How can I do that? Did I mention that Andy’s thinking of dropping football, which would mean no college? I can’t get through to Jeff. And Mama won’t leave her room. Somebody has to take charge.”
    “If you left, they’d have to pull it together,” Kim pointed out. “If you stay, they can just leave it all to you. Do