I shrug. “I guess there’s no rush.” And I’d just as soon not deal with the mountain house at all.

I fill my wineglass from the bottle sitting on the counter. Alice walks into the room carrying a tray of cookies. She’s wearing a lacy black dress and matching gloves that look like something out of early last century. She probably bought them at the vintage clothing store she likes so much.

“Are you going up to the mountain house, Molly?” she asks.

“At some point. I might have to.”

Alice sighs. She and Hayes were there last summer as well, and she spent her time sketching on the deck and collecting wildflowers by the river. “I could go with you if you want company.”

“That would be nice. I’ll let you know.”

She sets the platter on the counter. “Sadie’s at the back door. You want me to take her out?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Molly!” My mother calls from the living room. Alice grimaces, and we exchange a smile.

I’m pulled into the group from back home. My aunts, uncles, and a cousin who drove in from Albany. It’s not a group I’m close to or am comfortable around. My mom, who’s sitting on the sofa, reaches up a hand and squeezes mine. “Are you all right?” she whispers. “I haven’t seen you since we got back from church.”

“I’m fine. Just busy in the kitchen.”

My dad gets up and grabs Uncle Jim’s glass. He pats my shoulder as he passes behind me. I sit next to my mother, feeling obligated to make conversation, which I do, but I steer the conversation to the bookstore and the weather and how much I like Graybridge. Sadie. Anything to keep talking while I know what’s running through their minds. How is she coping? Is she going to be able to hold it together after what she’s been through? How could anybody?

After catching up with everyone, I feel safe to retreat to the kitchen. It’s like my friends and my Graybridge family are in one place, separate from the people from my past, and it needs to stay that way. But as I walk down the hall, I change direction and head toward the side porch. I need a minute, so I unlock the door, and cold air rushes to greet me, but I don’t care. I just need a break. I sit on the glider, an old piece of furniture left by the woman from whom we bought the house. It’s a relic from the past. Plastic upholstery covered with faded yellow flowers. It crackles beneath me as I sit and look out on the gray afternoon. Fat snowflakes float lazily past the windows, and I let my gaze follow one, then another on its trip to the ground.

“Molly?” Corrine stands in the doorway. “You okay?”

I swipe a tear from my cheek. “Yeah.”

She moves into the room and shuts the door, takes a seat in a rattan chair across from me. “It’s really cold out here.”