As I put everything back the way I’d found it, I wondered why my younger niece, who was living right here in the town house with her mother, needed reminders. Were these play items she incorporated into an imaginary world? Or was Wendy so often away that Noelle needed tangible evidence her mother was real?

I thought about all the things I’d found. Neither girl was communicating in a meaningful way. I’d fed them food they didn’t want to eat, bought them ice cream, tucked them in and tried to establish a bedtime ritual. But I’d hardly scratched the surface of what they really needed.

Obviously both were suffering from their parents’ absences. I’d spent too much time wishing I were somewhere else and hoping things would resolve quickly. Wendy was thinking ahead, in case her absence dragged on. Now it was my turn. At the moment I was the lone caretaker here, and it was my job to help them express themselves at what was clearly a difficult time.

I just had to figure out how.

The afternoon was warm, but a cool wind tickled the hair on my arms and sent my curls flopping against my cheeks. After I sent Sophie a list of the few things I needed from home, I walked to the school to pick up the girls, figuring the wind wouldn’t hurt any of us. Halfway back I described the rest of the afternoon. “When we get home, we’re baking cookies for Grandpa. Do you like baking?”

Neither girl answered.

“Holly?” I asked directly.

“We’re not allowed to use the stove.”

I felt encouraged by the sheer number of words. “Good rule, but if I’m right there, it’ll be fine. And we’re just putting cookies in the oven.”

“Why?” Noelle asked. “They have cookies at the store.”

“Grandpa’s on a special diet. Remember how he went to the hospital and had surgery? Well, they want him to eat certain foods that are good for him.”

“Mommy goes on diets.”

“Be quiet, Noelle.” Holly walked a little faster.

“It’s okay for Noelle to talk.” I looked down at the top of my younger niece’s blond head and resolved to find a video on YouTube about braiding hair. No matter how carefully I untangled every strand in the morning, by the time I picked her up, her hair was a disaster.

Noelle stuck out her tongue at her sister’s back. “Mommy said we have to be careful not to get fat.”

I wondered if my sister understood the roots of eating disorders. “You aren’t fat, and neither is Holly. You can eat plenty of good food and not worry one bit.”

Holly surprised me by tossing words over her shoulder. “Cookies aren’t good food.”

“The ones we’re making are. They have bananas and oats and maple syrup. All kinds of good stuff.” I knew because I’d spent time on the internet coming up with recipes that were both low-fat and vegan. Edible remained to be seen.