With a scowl, J. T. stuffed a final sack of books into a corner of Lydia's trunk, amid the growing mound of boxes and suitcases. "Mom, I think these are the last bags to load and I doubt we can cram any more in."

Offering him a smile, Lydia reached out to pat his arm, but J. T. shifted away. He stalked off toward the house, the sullen expression he'd worn all morning still set on his face. He and his brothers had shown up en masse this morning to help her pack, not one in a good mood.

Tucking her laptop and printer-copier into the crowded backseat of her navy Mustang, Lydia turned to head back into the kitchen — only to find all three of her sons filling the small kitchen space, waiting for her and scowling. "What's all this?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"You don't have to go, Mom." Parker sent her a grief-stricken look. "We can unload all this stuff in a flash. You can still change your mind."

"We've talked this out several times, Parker." Lydia sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for the boys to join her. She probably should have expected a final, frontal ambush after watching them exchange glances and frowns all morning.

"But it still doesn't make sense to us." Parker's twin, Billy Dale — preferably called Will now — leaned toward her, popping his knuckles as he always did when feeling upset or anxious.

Lydia tried to think of what to say. "The new job back at Western Carolina University is a move up for me to director of career services, in a school I like. It's the college where I got my undergrad and graduate degrees, held my first job as a student in career services, and where I first worked after graduation. I love Western — you know that. It's like going home to me."

J. T. frowned. "That's hardly the whole story, Mom. You're going home to the farm, too."

Lydia stalled for an answer, getting up to pour herself a glass of water from the Brita in the refrigerator. "I am not going home to the farm." She spoke each word slowly for emphasis as she sat back down. "I'm renting Hill House on the Upper Farm property."

"Same thing." J. T. scowled.

"It is not the same thing, J. T., and you know it." Lydia glared at him. "You also know why I'm renting Hill House at this particular time. Rebecca said your father might sell it, that they'd experienced a lot of bills since Estelle died. The house has sat empty for over a year, and a developer who wants to purchase the land tendered a good offer."

"And why is that your responsibility?" J. T. popped out yet another sarcastic remark.

She caught his eyes with hers. "Rebecca said Mary Beth was upset that the house and property might be sold. You know it would create a big gap in the property. She asked Rebecca to suggest I rent Hill House when she learned of my job offer at Western."

Lydia let her gaze sweep from one son to another. "Mary Beth is your sister. I have been here for the three of you all these years, but not there for her. She has never asked anything of me before this — not once since I left. I don't feel I can say no."

J. T. shook his head. "Mom, Mary Beth has hardly spoken to you since you left ten years ago. Or to us. Remember? She was angry at all of us for leaving."

"I know that." Lydia chewed on a nail. "I hope this might be my opportunity to mend fences with her. She is my only daughter."

"And we're your sons." Parker dropped his head into his hands, working hard to hold his emotions in check. "We