She could see her sister through the window, the pane cutting across her face, the top of her head green, and the bottom half purple. Lark walked into the kitchen, where her mother was already seated at the table, and her sister was in the process of wiping it off. She had brought... They looked like insulated bags, which Lark could only assume had food in them.

“I figured you guys would be pretty hungry by now.”

“I’m always hungry,” Lark said. “And hi.” She closed the space between herself and her sister and drew her in for a hug.

“Good to see you.” Avery dropped a kiss on to her head.

Lark took a step back. Avery looked tired, her blond hair piled on top of her head, an oversized sweater covering her always thin frame. She had on a pair of black leggings and a pair of black athletic shoes. She looked every inch the classic image of the supermom that she was.

Avery had all the self possession and poise of their mother and the effortless femininity of their grandmother. She’d been popular and stylish with ease and Lark had envied her. When Lark had reacted to things it had always been big, and often messy. Until she’d learned to get a grip on herself. Until she’d finally learned her lesson about what could happen when you acted, and didn’t think it through.

“But what food did you bring?” Lark asked.

“I had a potpie in the freezer. I also brought salad and rolls. I figured Hannah would probably be hungry too, after flying cross country.”

Her sister had also brought wine, and sparkling water. Lark helped herself to the water. Without asking for assistance, Avery finished cleaning off the table, then produced paper plates. “I didn’t know what kind of a state the dishes would be in. And I didn’t know if there was a working dishwasher in the house. I don’t hand wash.”

“No. Why would anyone? It’s why God gave us dishwashers.”

“Agree. Mom?” Avery asked. “How much potpie do you want?”

“I can serve myself.”

“No,” Avery said. “You don’t have to. Just sit. I’ll get you some wine.” Avery was a flurry of movement, and even when Lark and Mary had their food, Avery didn’t sit. She opened up the cupboards and looked in each of them, frowning. Lark could almost see an inventory building in her sister’s head.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Avery said. “Didn’t you talk to Hannah at all about what her idea was for this place?”

“No.” Lark felt vaguely wounded by that. There was a plan, and Hannah hadn’t said anything to her?

That made her feel more like the baby sister than anything had for a while.

“Finally!” Laden with suitcases, Hannah pushed the door open with her shoulder, her bright red hair, a shade or two down the aisle from the color their grandmother had used, covering her face. “I couldn’t seem to get a car. I had to rent one.”