Addy shrugged. “Mom and I went hiking, and Dad and Andy went fishing. We played games sometimes in the evening and all day the days it rained. No TV or Wi-Fi up there so it was pretty quiet. Oh, and no cell phone. We went to town a couple of times so Mom and Dad could get messages.” She looked to Amalia. “Andy and I have phones that can call home, but we don’t get real phones that do all the other stuff until we turn fifteen. My parents are really strict.”

Amalia looked at Ginny and snorted. “I’d say they have their heads on straight.”

“Miss Amalia!” Addy’s jaw dropped. “Did your kids have cell phones?”

“When my kids were teenagers, there was no such thing as cell phones. I made sure they always had change for a phone call if they needed to call home.”

Ginny nodded. “Makes you wonder at times how we got along without them but we did.”

“Mom says things have changed more than we’ll ever know these days.” Addy bit into the second half of her sandwich.

“You remember the Dick Tracy comic strips and that watch he wore? Nowadays half the country has one of those. Computer and everything right on your wrist.” Amalia shook her head.

Addy brushed her fingers off. “Can we bake cookies now?”

“What kind do you want to make?”

“How about snickerdoodles and we can all roll the dough in a ball. Double batch.”

“I’ve been hankering for molasses ginger cookies. You roll them in a ball too.”

“Or drop by spoonfuls and mash with a glass, the bottom dipped in sugar.”

“Can we do it the right way so they look pretty too?” Addy gathered up the plates and dishes and took them in the house.

“She is one good kid.”

“They both are. We’re, er…” Ginny stumbled and corrected herself. “I’m so proud…” She sniffed and rolled her eyes upward. “Please, I don’t want to cry again.” She sent Amalia an imploring look. “Will this go on forever?”

“Feels that way right now, but no, it won’t. The crying bouts will get farther apart, but still, there will be times you get blindsided and they strike again. But they don’t last as long. Often, when you least expect it, something will trigger the waterworks again. It can be a memory, or something you see or hear or even a smell.” Amalia shrugged. She patted Ginny’s hand. “Let’s go make cookies.”