Motherhood had not been on Greer's wish list. But dying had not been on her sister's either. Equal portions of grief and anger churned in Greer's stomach as she faced the double headstone, holding her niece's hand. Two weeks into her new situation, and she was more overwhelmed than ever.

Once close, she and Ava had drifted apart, only exchanging birthday phone calls. She should have tried harder to stay in touch. If she could change the past, she would. The last time she'd seen Ava had been Christmas two years ago. So when the lawyer read the will and request, Greer sat dumbfounded. She understood why her sister had made such arrangements. A precaution. She never expected to need them. The chances of both parents dying together had to be slim, but the seismic shift it had caused in Greer's world was bigger than The San Andreas fault line.

"Are you ready to go?" She tried not to sound impatient, but a cemetery was the last place she wanted to be.

Her niece pulled petals from the one daisy she'd been holding and dropped them on top of the graves like a flower girl at a wedding. Should a six-year-old cry more? Even at the funeral, she hadn't shed a tear. But nighttime proved a different story. Another concern.

"This is Mama's favorite kind. Sashay daisies."

The reference brought a smile and Greer noted how her niece referred to Ava in the present tense. That answered her question. The child was in denial. "They're called Shasta."

"Oh yeah. Shasta. They look like a fried egg. We have some. When they bloom, we can pick 'em. Want to?"

"Sure."

Emma knelt and ran her fingers across the fresh sod. "I miss Mama and Daddy."

Tears rimmed Greer's eyes, and she bent to offer comfort. "I do, too." She needed to say more, but what? She didn't have a clue how to deal with grief in a person so young. There must be books with instructions. Making a mental note to visit a library or bookstore, she wrapped her arm around the little girl and hugged her close.

Other than the slender nose she'd gotten from her dad, Emma was the spitting image of her mom and Greer. Same green eyes, dark hair, mischievous smile. Greer could pass for her mother, but she wasn't, and the worst part? She didn't know how to be. She'd killed her quota of goldfish and hamsters. What had given Ava the idea Greer would be capable of raising a child? Her sister had probably planned the kid's future by the time she'd brought her home from the hospital, and Greer was sure it didn't include Tarot cards or men with piercings, tattoos, and motorcycles, which had glittered her life lately.

Emma buried her head in her aunt's bosom. "Mama and Daddy aren't really down there, are they?"

A knot formed in Greer's throat. The questions kept getting harder. For a fleeting moment, anger pushed the grief aside while she blamed Ava for dying, which was ridiculous, but she couldn't stop herself. She wondered if her older sister had considered the ramifications of her scatterbrained sibling taking charge.

Who was she kidding? The roster Ava had to choose from offered slim pickings. "No. This is just a beautiful place to come and think about them." Greer hoped the child didn't see through her incompetence.

She took Emma by the hand and led her away from the cemetery. By the time they reached the car, the little girl had already moved onto another subject. "Christian sent me a note at school today."

"Who is he?"

"He sits two seats behind me and sometimes teacher puts his name on the board because he doesn't do his work."

"Oh. What did it say?"

"Do you like me? He had a box to check for yes or no."

"Which did you choose?"

"I didn't answer him yet. Which one should I check?"

Greer reached for the door handle. "You want to stop for ice cream before we head home?"

Treats were good. No problem with them. And the domestic stuff was a breeze. Except cooking. Another weak point. It was the discipline, homework, and comforting duties where she fell short. And now add boys to the list? At six? Damn.

"Mama says I shouldn't eat a lot of ice cream. I'll get hyper."

She crawled in and Greer clicked her safety strap in place. "So you don't want to go?"

"I guess one scoop might not hurt too much. What about Christian?"

No avoiding the subject. Greer squatted to look at the child eye to eye. "Do you like him?"

"Mama says I'm supposed to like everybody, but I think he wants me to be his girlfriend, and Daddy says I'm too young to have a boyfriend. I don't want Daddy to be mad."

Listen kid, Christian sounds like bad-boy-bad-news. First, he'll have you checking a box, then by junior high, he'll want to check yours. You'd better steer clear of him. She shook the notion away. "You can like someone as a friend. Take my word, boys who get their names on the board aren't good boyfriend material." She stood and walked around the car and climbed in. "Now, what flavor of ice cream?"

"Chocolate. Daddy's favorite."

An hour later, Greer swung her sister's Lexus into the drive of the cozy cottage Ava and Evan had built ten years ago. Houses like this, in the right neighborhood, sold for close to a half-million dollars in Atlanta, but in Fairhope, it appraised at a fraction of that. Painted the creamy color of wild daffodil petals and trimmed in an odd shade of brown, it was the only home her niece had ever known. The thought of selling it caused Greer's chest to tighten. It was horrible to lose your parents, but then to have an aunt, a virtual stranger haul you off to another city hours away, would be traumatic even for a teenager. And Emma was only in first grade!

Next door neighbor Mr. Mooney, waved from his front porch, and Greer glanced at her watch. Soon, he'd be over for his daily visit. Funny how the old codger had taken up with her.

According to Emma, until Greer's arrival he'd rarely visited. She returned the greeting.

"I'm sorry. What did you say, sweetie?"

"Will I ever see them again?"

Taking a deep breath, Greer searched for the best words, but there weren't any. No matter what she said, it wouldn't be enough. No, you'll never see them again, versus yes, but you must die for it to happen. This was the reason Ava had made a grave error in judgment by leaving everything to Greer including an impressionable six-year old with a thousand questions and a guardian with no answers.

She drew another breath, this one shallow, because her lungs had closed off. Then she released her seat belt and turned to face the back. "Even though you don't see them, your mom and dad are always with you. They'll be there when you play in the backyard. When you say your prayers at night. Every minute. Watching you. Missing you."

"Are they here now?"

"I'm sure they are."

"Where?"

Damn. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe sitting on the steps."

Emma unsnapped and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes into slits. "I can't see them."

"That's because we can't see angels."

"Then how do we know they're here?"

With every answer, Greer dug the hole deeper, and she wasn't sure she'd get out of it. A few cheesy poetic answers might satisfy this sprout of a kid, but she wouldn't be this age forever. Then what?

"They're like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy." Ready to end the Q&A, she moved on. "Grab your backpack and let's go in. You want a corn dog for dinner? I'll do French fries. Lots of ketchup. Doesn't that sound yummy? I bought fresh blueberries and strawberries today, so I can make you a little fruit cup."

Inside the house, the phone rang. Greer unlocked the door and Emma rushed to answer it.

"Hello...Hi, Grammy."

Evan's mother called several times a week, and that was a good thing. Greer wanted Emma to have a relationship with what family she had left. But Grammy Collins didn't approve of the guardian choice. She'd made that clear.

Emma ended the conversation and skipped into the kitchen. "May I go outside?"

"Do you have homework?"

"No."

"Okay, you can play until I get dinner fixed. Where was Grammy calling from?"

"Rome. That's in Italy. I can show you in my geography book."

"We'll do it tonight at bedtime. All right?"

She nodded and headed to the backyard just as someone knocked on the front door. When Greer opened it, Mr. Mooney stood in the opening, mug in hand.

"Can I borrow a cup of bourbon?"

The old man's gravelly voice sounded grumpy, but he was anything but that. His gentle nature caused Greer to like him the minute she'd met him. The day of the funeral, he'd shown up with a basket of fruit and a philodendron.

"So, everything going okay?" He reminded her of George Burns without the thick glasses, right down to the cigar peeking from his shirt pocket.

"Okay, I guess."

"You guess?"

Greer took the bottle from the cabinet and filled his cup. "Emma is asking questions I'm not sure how to answer. You know. Where Ava and Evan are now? Will she ever see them again? That kind of thing."

He took a big gulp. "Ah, that's good stuff."

Greer smiled. He had the same reaction every time.

He set the drink on the counter and planted himself on a stool. "She seems happy, so I think you're doing fine."

"She's not asking to go to the cemetery as much, so that's better."

"You hang in there kiddo. Motherhood ain't easy. My Charlotte would have been a great mother, but it wasn't in the cards for us."

"You miss her, don't you?"

"Every minute of every day."

Greer hated the sadness in his eyes, so she changed the subject. "We're having corn dogs for dinner. You want to join us?"

"Nah. Weenies give me gas. I better get going." He held out his cup. "Hit me one more time for the road."

She half-filled the mug and followed him to the door. "See you tomorrow?"

"Count on it."

After getting Emma to bed, Greer soaked in the tub and contemplated her situation. This wasn't a temporary assignment. She had at least twelve more years. The thought exhausted her. Thanks to the insurance, and once the house sold, finances wouldn't be a problem. She'd have enough to buy a bigger home in Atlanta. That's the one area where Ava had made the right choice.

Greer was good at handling money. She'd opened her new age gift shop with a small cash investment and supported herself. Once her sister's lawyer finished the paperwork, Greer would add to her niece's college fund, and save the bulk of the inheritance.

Staring at a bottle of bubble bath, childhood memories flooded over her. All the times Evan had paid Greer a dollar to leave Ava alone with him. How she'd taught Greer to drive, apply makeup and a hundred other shared moments. Covering her face with the washcloth, she sobbed.

She'd heard that crying, like laughing, was healthy. She hoped that was true, because she'd been doing plenty of it. She pulled herself together, climbed out of the tub and toweled off, then slipped into her nightshirt. There would need to be changes in her life. No more bad boys. She needed to set a good example.

Back in the living room, she gazed out the window. The bells at Fairhope United, a few blocks away, chimed eleven times. When she'd first moved in, they had driven her nuts, but now she'd gotten used to the sound. And somehow, the melody soothed her. She wasn't Episcopalian. She really wasn't much of anything concerning religion, but Ava and Evan had attended services at the local Methodist church, so she felt obligated to make sure Emma did. Maybe one of the nearby worship centers provided counseling or a support group for new mothers.

Years ago, when she'd established her online tarot site, she never thought how beneficial it would be. Since coming to Fairhope, it allowed her to do readings, while her employees kept the Atlanta storefront open. For Emma's sake, until school ended, Greer would stay in Ava's house. The trauma of losing her parents was enough for the little girl. Greer didn't want her to give up all her friends, too. Besides, summer vacation would be a better time for transition.

The wind picked up, and a tractor rolled past, reminding Greer how much she hated this city. Nothing but flat land and cotton fields and rednecks. Earlier in the week, she'd suffered through her first tropical storm so close to the gulf. She swore her hair gained two pounds in humidity and the skin on her face felt wet to the bone. Not to mention the world around her was a giant pile of slushy mud. How residents tolerated this place was beyond her.

Just then, like every night since her arrival, Emma screamed. "MAMA! MAMA!"

Greer ran down the hallway, wishing she could have hitched a ride on that tractor and rolled away from the hardest challenge she'd ever faced.