“Madeleine!” they hear behind them. Quinn turns to see a little girl with short hair and bangs, big eyes—a kid from Maddie’s class. She approaches with her mother, an older kid beside her, a baby—fat legs sticking out from the hard wire—in the cart.

“Rosa!” Maddie says. “Hi!”

Quinn smiles at the other mother, who is stout and pretty, her hair cut short like her daughter’s. “Hi,” she says.

“You all headed out of town this week?” the mother says.

Quinn hasn’t met her, she doesn’t think, but is relieved this other mother doesn’t mistake her for the babysitter or Maddie’s older sister—Quinn is twenty-three and has been told that she looks younger.

“We’re staying put,” Quinn says.

“Oh God, us too,” says this other mother, nodding toward her overflowing cart. “I’m hosting my entire family. The first time.”

Quinn nods, smiling. Maddie is her entire family; she is Maddie’s. “Sounds exhausting,” she says.

“Stocked up on Ativan,” the other mother whispers to Quinn as the baby starts to fuss. Quinn laughs and looks around to make sure no one’s looking, no one heard this other mother whisper to her about a substance Quinn can’t have in her home or she will lose Maddie for good.

“Smart move,” Quinn says. She grabs Maddie’s arm, Maddie waves goodbye to her friend, and as they turn down the nearest empty aisle, Quinn throws a bag of $5.99 organic chocolate chips into the cart.

2

Tess holds Stella in the kitchen.

“She’s fine,” Martin says for the thousandth time. He’s standing too close to her. “Let her play.”

Tess carries Stella over to the counter, pours her daughter and herself a glass of water. Stella’s bangs are stuck crooked on her forehead—they paid too much for this haircut—and Tess brushes the thick, dark strands back. There is no bump or bruise or cut, but she was crying.

“They have no control,” she whispers to her husband. “No one watches them.” For a while, parenting brought her and Kate closer, but then Tess began to worry about Kate’s kids’ influence. The chaos of them, up close, made her afraid. Colin is so easily spun out. He’s more violent, she thinks, after he spends time with his cousins. Every time.

“They’re kids,” says Martin.

“Want to help Uncle Henry cook?” she says to Stella. Stella loves her uncle.

But Stella shakes her head. “Can I go help Uncle Josh?”

Out the window they can see him, though it’s dark now. He has a shovel, large waterproof black mittens. Josh is thin, wiry—not as fit as Martin, nor as tall as Henry. His hair, Tess thinks, is too long for a grown-up. Strands of it fall out of his hat into his face.