I opted to sleep over at Juliet’s and spent the rest of the evening playing Apples to Apples with Sloane, then lying on Brianna’s bed as she stroked Pepper’s ears. My niece told me about her friends and why they weren’t really her friends, and how she wanted them back but didn’t actually like them anymore and wished she could go to boarding school. “This town is so stupid,” she said.

“It is, and it isn’t,” I said. “It’s a good place to grow up.”

“You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

“And here I am, back again.”

“Only because of Grampy.” She rolled onto her belly and propped herself up with her elbows, my sister’s little miniature. “Is he going to die, Sadie?”

“Nope,” I said. “I mean, what happened was scary, and it was life-threatening, but he’s out of the woods now.” I tapped her little nose. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Then why does Mommy cry in her closet?”

Juliet? Cry? “Uh . . . well, it’s stressful, you know?” Shit. “I mean, Grampy’s getting better, but he’s not his old self, and I’m sure she misses that. I do. Do you?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I like Nana better, to be honest. She’s the fun one.”

“What does she do that’s fun?” As ever, that image stung—my mother, a completely different person when I wasn’t around. I listened as Brianna detailed things like planting seeds to grow flowers for the garden, baking, taking her clothes shopping, going to the movies just the two of them, getting matching pedicures.

Sounded damn nice. I hadn’t known my grandmothers.

“Bedtime!” Juliet called, lurching to a stop as she saw me on her daughter’s bed. “Sadie, the guest room’s all made up.” Pepper leaped off the bed, ready for the next adventure.

“Thanks,” I said. “Good night, Princess Brianna. I love you!”

“Love you too, Sadie,” she said with a smile. “Good night, Pepper.”

A little while later, Jules stopped in my room. I had already thanked her profusely for sending Noah over, admitted my inadequacies as a home renovator and sworn to listen better and be nicer to Mom.

“Got everything you need?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Humility was the price I had to pay. “Hey, Jules. Brianna said . . .”

“What? Is she cutting herself?”

“No! Jesus. Is she?”

“I just asked you!”

“Well, not that I know of or saw. She was wearing shorty pajamas, and her skin is perfect.” My sister’s shoulders relaxed a few inches. “No, but she said she heard you crying? In your closet.”

Jules grimaced. “Oh.”

“You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah. A work thing. Plus Dad and Mom.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”