My attic studio was wide open. In the rest of the house I had walls separating each room one from the other, but I kept open the attic space that runs the length and width of the house. My cell phone rang, and I glanced at the screen—Sadie. I answered, and she was talking before I said hello. “Hey, I’m at the front door, can’t you hear me?”

“I’m in the studio, just come in. It’s unlocked.”

Her quick and light footsteps echoed up the attic stairs and she entered the space, her high heels in her hand, her ponytail loose.

Sadie and I are second-generation best friends. Our mothers—Birdie and Lilly—had been best friends since first grade, and Sadie and I grew up understanding we were tied together by not only friendship, but also kinship. Now she is part of the Buckhead world in which we live, yet oddly separate. Her kind heart, soft voice, and simple ways keep me from falling directly into the conventional world in which I live, the way Alice fell into the rabbit hole. Her beauty is stunning and unadorned. If there is something beyond and better than “best friend,” that is Sadie to me.

I hugged her. In her hand, she held a white box with a string around it. She stretched out her hand. “For me?” I asked.

“Food.”

I opened the box and looked at Sadie, grinning. “What would I ever do without you? Please don’t ever let me find out.” Inside were my favorite cookies—madeleines from Henri’s Bakery. I took out a sugary concoction and allowed the sugar to melt on my tongue. “Manna from heaven.”

Sadie reached to hug me but accidentally knocked the box. The cookies scattered across my rough and paint-splattered hardwood floor, and we laughed in that remarkable way that best friends can and do. We knelt on the floor and gathered the food, dropping the cookies into the box. I sat cross-legged and let out a long sigh.

“Go ahead,” Sadie said. “Whatever it is, say it.”

“I had the weirdest thing happen yesterday.” I picked up a cookie off the floor, blew on it, taking a bite and speaking with my mouth full because I could. “I found Mother’s journal.”

“What?”

I shrugged. “I know. I never knew about it. I cleaned out her closet and packed up everything for Dad.”

“Of course you did. You are so sweet, my friend.”

“Anyway, I found the journal in the bottom locked drawer. I’ve always, always wondered what was in there—I thought it was her good jewelry. You know, the jewelry she didn’t want me to see or touch. I read the entire thing. There is so much I didn’t know … and now so many questions.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” I scooted back and leaned against the wall.