Alice nodded at me, and I grabbed an armful of laundry and took my cue to leave. I could have made some excuse to stay, but really, I wasn’t that interested in whatever old-lady drama was boiling between them.

I followed Alice into her room. “Wow,” I said. It was right on the ocean and bathed in soft blues, pinks, and yellows.

“The palette highlights the water, the sunrise, or the sunset, depending on what time of day it is,” Alice said, opening her drawers. “I love sitting on my little balcony early in the morning, writing in my journal, sipping tea.”

“That does sound nice,” I said. “I mean, I get up at the last possible second in the morning, but theoretically.” I paused, realizing something. “I’ve really missed falling asleep to the sound of the ocean.” Just thinking of that made me so incredibly homesick. “Do you think I’ll ever get to go home?” I sighed.

“I do think so, sweetheart. I really do.” Alice opened her drawer and pulled out a bikini. “Do you need bathing suits?”

“Well, I have one,” I said as she handed it to me.

“You can have this,” she said.

“Seriously? This is so cute. Don’t you want me to borrow, like, an old, dusty one?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “You can keep that. Alas, my bikini days have passed.”

I followed Alice into her closet. “Alice! Your clothes!”

“My clothes will be a little big, but you can borrow anything you’d like until we get you squared away with enough.”

“Why would you do this?” I asked. “Seriously. Why would you just take in total strangers and their random kids?”

She shrugged. “Because it’s the scariest thing in the world to feel like you’ve lost control over your own life. When I saw your mom this morning, I could see that feeling in her face. And I could make it better for her. So I did.”

“Okay, sure. But there have to be, like, a million people who have the same situation as you, and they aren’t letting random kids borrow their dresses.”

“Well, there are also people giving up their cushy lives to volunteer in refugee camps, so I wouldn’t say I’m a candidate for sainthood.”

I smiled. “So are you going to tell me more about your stuff?”

“My stuff, as in my emotional baggage?” she asked, looking amused.

I nodded.

“Maybe one day. But right now, I want to get this stuff in the washing machine.”

“I’ll help,” I said. “I like to do laundry. I like how it makes everything smell fresh and clean. It’s like starting over again.”

“We use natural, fragrance-free detergent, so no smell,” Alice said.

I shook my head. “You’re killing me, Alice. Killing me.”