“I’m seven, but I read middle-school books. I’m in second grade,” she peers up at her mom, “Mom says I might go to school here.”

“Honey, go grab your Switch, huh? Let the grown-ups talk,” Leonie says. Tilly shrugs and obeys.

Leonie laughs once she’s on the porch, game console in hand. “It’s all video games these days. Glad you weren’t into that when you were little, Marnie.”

“Mom, what’re you doing here?” she asks flatly.

Leonie’s eyes drift to mine like she wants me to go. I stand firm, folding my arms over my chest and raising my brow to urge her to answer the fucking question.

“Mel told me what happened with the wedding and the accident,” she says. “I thought you might need me.”

“That’s when you thought I needed you? That was months ago.”

Leonie rolls her eyes, waving her hand toward her other daughter. “Well, you know how it is. We were in Arizona. I had to… figure things out before I moved us across the country.”

“Moved?” Marina shoots back. “You’re moving here?”

“Thought we’d give it a shot if you’re okay with it,” she says, glancing my way again. “Maybe we could talk about this privately?”

“He stays.”

“Okay.” She huffs. “Marnie, I’m so much better now. I’m on meds and in therapy. My doctor and I meet virtually, so it doesn’t matter where I am. I haven’t had an episode in over a year. After Tilly, I got my act together. I told you all about it in the letters.”

Marina stiffens beside me. After Tilly, she got her shit together? Why not before? Why not for Marina?

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Mom,” Marina sighs. “It’s all I ever wanted for you. But I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I wanted to know that you’re okay,” she answers.

“I’m okay.”

“I want you to know your sister and for her to know you. I want us to be a family again. I’ve told her about you, all our old stories.”

“All our stories?” Marina demands.

“Well, no. She’s seven. But all the good ones.”

Marina shifts on her feet, folding her arms. I unfold mine, slipping an arm around her.

“Look, I know this is a lot. I probably should’ve had Mel give you a heads up that we were coming,” Leonie says. “Why don’t we just go inside and talk? I’ll make some coffee. Breakfast, too. How about cinnamon pancakes? Oh, you used to love those. We’re starving. Tilly and I can tell you all our adventures. Bring Mr. Beefcake here, too. Then, we can figure things out from there. Okay?”

Now, I stiffen. She wants to fix breakfast and serve guests like she’s already moved in and made herself at home. And I’m the outsider?