Donna shook her head and sipped her tea again. “I hope you’ll be there when I tell him. He and I have always been so close . . . after his father left . . . You know, Kevin was only four.” She shifted her eyes down to the table and stared at Annie’s hand that rested on hers. “I’m afraid he’ll be upset. And he’ll ask a thousand questions that I don’t really want to answer. I only want to recuperate so I can get back to my life.”

Annie knew that sometimes a conversation between two people was more about the words that were left unspoken. But all she could think about was Murphy. She supposed it was only natural that once anyone had lost a loved one to the disease, whenever they heard the word, they jumped to the conclusion: terminal. Still, Annie knew that ovarian cancer could be tough to cure. And that, no matter what, Kevin would take the news far harder than she would. Or could. Donna had been the one who had raised him, nurtured him, loved him, picked him up when he fell down, nursed his outer and inner wounds. Donna had done those things for Kevin—Ellen Sutton hadn’t. And now, in that moment, Annie became more concerned about Kevin than about Donna.

Neither mother nor daughter finished their chowder or tea.

It wasn’t until they were in the Jeep, the wipers swiping the windshield with rhythmic gusto, that Annie suddenly understood why Donna’s luggage was so large.

* * *

“Mom?” Kevin called out from the living room. “You’re here?”

Annie and Donna were in the bedroom; Annie had been showing her a couple of empty drawers she could use.

“Jesus,” he said now as he stood in the doorway, “you’ve lost weight. Are you on one of those stupid diets again?”

Donna laughed. “You know me, Kev. If I gain two pounds, I have to lose five to compensate.” She went over and kissed his cheek. “But look at you. You’re looking fitter than ever. Manual labor agrees with you.”

“Yup. And I’m hoping it lasts. Did Annie tell you what happened?”

She turned back to Annie, who was watching the mother-son reunion with a hint of envy. “I did not,” Annie replied. “I wanted you to have the pleasure.”

“Very funny,” Kevin replied.

Donna looked from one of her children to the other. “Perhaps we should go into the living room and talk?”

“Good idea,” Annie said.

So that’s what they did. Annie sat on the sofa, Donna went to the rocker, and Kevin whipped around a kitchen chair and sat backward on it, facing them.