Anna gave directions and watched the three of them work. Peter was her surprise. He was so slight and blond, such a wisp of a boy, yet he was strong and very smart. Theresa didn’t want to get down on the floor. Rather, she attempted to give orders from above.

“I told you, you need to wear pants in here,” Anna said, and the girl turned away from her in a huff.

The boys, though, worked well together. Anna realized they were missing a couple of tools they needed to work with the wood, and Jesse promised to bring them the following day. Despite Theresa’s prissy attitude, Anna thought they were off to a good start, and with the three of them there, the warehouse felt cheerful and alive and not the least bit threatening. The beams high above their heads were just beams, the huge hanging pendant lights, just lights, and she watched her young students with a sense of delight she hoped would never leave her.

Chapter 27. Morgan

Chapter 27

MORGAN

July 3, 2018

It was dusk by the time the Uber dropped me off at the end of the long driveway to the Williams farm. I paid the driver, climbed out of the car, and began walking toward the house, batting away the mosquitoes that instantly descended on me. I was here to talk to Mama Nelle again, the only person alive who had known Anna Dale. The only person besides me who might care about the artist who filled my days.

Lisa had all but forbidden my visit to her aunt. “Don’t complain to me about how little time you have to get your work done if you’re going to waste it with an old woman who can barely remember her own name,” she said, when I told her my plans that afternoon.

“All right,” I said. “I won’t complain.” I’d called Mama Nelle’s daughter Saundra to arrange a time I could come over. Unlike Lisa, Saundra seemed to welcome the idea.

“Mama loves having people to talk to,” she said. “And not too many actually listen to what she says anymore. Come on over!”

Saundra greeted me at the front door dressed in yoga pants and a gray tank top. Inside the house, she offered me a glass of wine, which I turned down, of course, accepting a bottle of water instead.

“Listen,” she said, before taking me to see her mother. “How is Lisa doing? I worry about her.”

I was surprised by the question, surprised she asked for my opinion when, truth be told, I was really a stranger to the family. I hesitated long enough that she filled the silence.