She didn’t need this. It was all she could do to deal with Sydney and Bay in her life, trying to ease them into her routine. And she did this knowing they were still going to leave. Sydney had hated everything about this house and this town. Even now she was trying to protect Bay from unnecessary strangeness, not explaining the garden or the apple tree to her, not telling her what being a Waverley meant in Bascom. It was only going to take one comment, one snub from someone, and Sydney would disappear again like smoke.

But Tyler was definitely something she could control in her life. She had to try to dissuade him in any way she could. Vehemently, rudely if necessary. There just wasn’t any room for him. She was letting too many people in as it was.

Bay ran into the kitchen ahead of Sydney and Tyler. She hugged Claire, like it was the most natural thing in the world to give a hug for no discernible reason, and Claire held her tightly for a moment. Bay pulled away and ran to the kitchen table and sat.

Sydney walked in and Tyler followed. She noticed right away that he’d had his hair cut. It suited him, made him seem more focused. That, she decided when his eyes focused on her, was not a good thing. You can’t lose what you don’t have, she thought, and turned away.

“It must have been amazing, growing up in this house,” Tyler said.

“It was interesting, all right,” Sydney said. “There’s a step on the staircase, three steps up, that squeaks. When we were young, every time someone stepped on it, a mouse would stick his head out of the knothole on the step above to see what made the sound.”

Claire looked at her sister, surprised. “You knew about that?”

“I’m not much of a Waverley, but I grew up here too.” Sydney snagged a slice of bread as Claire made the sandwiches and put them on a plate. “Claire learned all these crazy recipes from our grandmother.”

“This isn’t a crazy recipe. This is soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

Sydney winked at Tyler. “Almond butter and ginger jelly sandwiches.”

Claire’s skin suddenly felt prickly. It came so easily to Sydney, and Claire used to hate her so much for it. Look how naturally she talked with Tyler, made it seem like it was no big deal to form connections when they were so easily broken.

“Were the two of you very close growing up?” Tyler asked.

“No,” Sydney said, before Claire could.

Claire filled three bowls with soup and set them on the table with the plate of sandwiches. “Enjoy,” she said, and left the kitchen and went out to the garden, Tyler, Sydney, and Bay watching her go.

About forty-five minutes later, Claire had finished digging a hole by the fence and was gathering up the apples that had fallen around the tree. It was humid, the air as thick as sorghum syrup, carrying a hint of the sticky summer to come.