Taking one for herself, she realized she should probably make more. Maybe she could find a recipe for something healthier, something made from whole grains and blueberries. Donna might appreciate that.

She glanced down at the phone again: still nothing.

“Expecting a call?” Kevin asked.

“Oh,” she said. “No. Well, yes. Kind of. But it’s not important. Book stuff. You know?” Why had she suddenly become such a liar? Especially when she was so awful at it?

Then the bedroom door opened, and Donna stepped into the room. She wore a pale blue silk robe; her short hair was neat, her eyes bright. She looked better—healthier—than she had the day before.

“Good morning,” Annie said. “Kevin made coffee.”

“I’ll pass. I’ve had your brother’s coffee before.”

“Mom,” he said without a smile, “since living on the Vineyard, I’ve turned over a new leaf. Earl says anyone who lives on Chappy needs to know how to use a percolator and a wood stove.”

Donna laughed, poured herself half a cup, then joined them at the table. “So what’s on everyone’s agenda today?” she asked cheerfully.

Annie outlined her idea about the artists. “If you feel up to it, I’d love to have you join me and give me your opinion of their work. None of them know my plan yet, so we’d be cold-calling.”

Donna said she liked the idea, adding that it would be best not to make promises until they’d seen everyone’s work. “Otherwise you might end up with pieces that clash and too few walls to spread them out on.”

They chatted amiably, as if they were planning an outing to a museum of masterpieces in Chicago or LA. Kevin interrupted with a few witty suggestions, including that they might want to go incognito and take magnifying glasses. Either his mood had lifted, or he was trying very hard to make her think it had.

The conversation was easier than Annie had expected, as if a bond were growing between them. Until her phone vibrated on her thigh.

The screen read UNKNOWN, but the area code was 617. Boston metro. She picked it up. It vibrated again. She touched the circle that read DECLINE. It wasn’t the right time for Larry Hendricks. Her palms suddenly grew sweaty, as if they agreed.

“Take the call if you want,” Donna said.

Annie shook her head. “It’s not important.” She put the phone into her pocket so it was out of sight. Specifically, out of her sight.

Then Kevin cleared his throat. “Getting back to our conversation, I’ve come up with another option for you, Mom.”

Annie wrestled her thoughts back to the moment. She wondered when the last time was that her brain had needed to sort out so much multitasking.

“Other than going with Annie to check out a few artists?”