Justin was now the guitarist in a band in Portland. And they were starting to do really well. The Portland Press Herald had done a big feature on them last fall.

“Justy?” Aunt Belinda was calling to Justin from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Father Tom’s gonna be coming over soon to talk about funeral stuff. Just so you know.”

“Okay.”

Headlights from a car that had pulled into Aunt Belinda’s driveway flashed across the living room.

“I think he’s here!” called Justin. And he hopped off the couch and made his way to his room so he wouldn’t have to see Father Tom. Who was a good enough guy. Justin just didn’t want to see him right then. He’d see him tomorrow at the funeral.

He heard a knock on the back door. And he heard Aunt Belinda answer. “Oh! Hey, kiddo!”

And he heard a voice say, “Hi, Aunt B,” in that way people do when they’re greeting someone who’s lost a loved one.

Justin froze. The voice was Michelle’s. And he hadn’t seen her or been in touch with her since he left Almost. And not because she hadn’t tried to see him or be in touch with him.

He heard Michelle say that she was sorry about Uncle Clair—and that she had brought over a nine-layer casserole.

“Ooh!” gushed Aunt Belinda.

Justin wondered what the nine layers of a nine-layer casserole were.

“Justy!” called Aunt Belinda. “Michelle’s here! Come say hi!” And then she asked Michelle, “Can I freeze this?”

“Yeah,” said Michelle.

“Great. I’m gonna put it out on the porch.” Aunt Belinda brought the nine-layer casserole out onto the porch, where it joined a bevy of other casseroles and would be preserved by the cold for future consumption. (Porches become freezers in northern Maine in the winter.)

Justin had shuffled down the hall into the kitchen and said, “Hey.”

Michelle looked even bigger than he remembered. She had been six feet tall since she was thirteen. But she had never been one of those lanky tall people. She had always been sturdy. But she was sturdier now.

“Hi,” said Michelle. Justin looked skinnier than she remembered. And he probably was. Because he wanted to be. Being skinny made him feel powerful. So he smoked a lot and ate only a little.

Michelle bet she weighed close to twice what he did now. And she started to feel bad about her size, like she used to. But then remembered that she had found someone who liked her size. And she stopped feeling bad about herself.

“How ya doin’?” asked Michelle—and she immediately regretted asking the question, because nobody who’s just lost someone they love is doing okay. And she said, “Sorry,” meaning she was sorry that she had asked the question—and that she was sorry for his loss. “Listen,” she almost whispered, “can we go somewhere? Talk?”

“Um—” Justin didn’t want to go anywhere with Michelle. And he didn’t really want to talk to her.

“I just wanna—” Michelle was about to tell Justin that she had something she wanted to tell him. But she wasn’t able to tell him, because Aunt Belinda was returning from the porch and inadvertently interrupted her.