“You didn’t tell me what happened to Greta.” I had imagined a car accident, or some fatal childhood cancer, but she surprised me.

“It’s not the kind of thing I would have told you about, not unless I had to. But it might help you understand your sister. Greta drowned, and Wendy was there.”

“That’s awful. In a pool?” I was afraid to ask if the pool had been ours.

“It’s a terrible story. Greta and Wendy were thick as thieves. They were pretty girls, popular and smart. Wendy was prettier, and I’m not saying that because she was my daughter, but Greta was interesting. You know what I mean? One of those girls who’ll turn heads later in her life. Striking, I guess.”

“Most girls would settle for turning heads.”

“She went through an awkward stage, which your sister somehow bypassed.”

“I’ve looked at the photos in Wendy’s scrapbook. Greta was outgrowing the awkward phase when the photos stopped.”

“She was such a nice girl. Polite, funny. I loved her sense of humor. Once she brought me a bouquet of daisies, and when I looked closer, I realized she’d hidden a chocolate bar in the middle. She knew I loved chocolate and I didn’t want anybody to know what an obsession it was. That was priceless, don’t you think? How many girls that age pay attention to something like that?”

“She sounds really special.” I sipped and waited.

“Her parents moved away after she died. I tried to stay in touch, but we were a reminder.”

“Did this happen at our house?”

“Oh, no, thank God. Both houses had pools. In the summer the girls were either in the water at our place or Greta’s. And sometimes they went to the beach with their other friends. Wendy was the stronger swimmer, though. By the time she was eight, she was competing on the swim team. The Harolds moved here from somewhere in New England. I don’t remember where, but not the coast. So Greta didn’t start lessons as young as Wendy.”

She was meandering. I had a feeling she didn’t want to get to the bad part. “I know how careful you are. You were always around when I was in the pool. Even when I was a teenager.”

“It just makes sense. But nobody was watching the night Greta drowned. Nobody but Wendy, and she couldn’t save her.”

“What happened?”

“They sang in the chorus. It was one of the activities where Greta surpassed Wendy. She had a gorgeous high soprano and thought she might like to sing professionally someday. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The chorus had their end of the year bonfire. Somebody’s family had a house on the bay, and they got permission to build the fire on the beach, roast marshmallows and hot dogs—something nobody is allowed to do today. Both girls were there, and after they ate, they went for a stroll. The sun had set and nobody saw them leave. The chaperones said they would have stopped them if they’d known, but Wendy and Greta sneaked off.”