“Jail,” says Paige, a little smile on her face. Jail for me, of course. She hasn’t gone to jail once this entire game of Monopoly. Meanwhile I’ve been behind bars four times. It’s unheard of.

“Jail again,” I agree. I’d rather be in Monopoly jail across from Paige than anywhere else.

This is the kind of thing that wouldn’t come so easily if I move away for college. The option is still there, of course. I haven’t decided anything yet. Haven’t even heard back from most places. But the decision looms in my mind. Back in Houston, paying for college would be the tough part. The decision itself was easy. I’d have gone to the University of Texas without a second thought.

Now what? We have a brand-new house in Eben Cape, close enough to the new Coach House that Paige can run over whenever she wants. Or when Emily needs us to watch her, like today.

A car pulls up outside, tires crunching on gravel.

Paige’s eyes light up. “It’s Mom.”

She abandons the game and runs for the door. We’ve been sitting on the floor at the coffee table for long enough that my knees protest when I rise. Hazards of Monopoly, I guess.

Along with endless trips to jail.

Outside, Paige has her arms wrapped around Emily’s waist, hugging her like she’s been gone for years instead of a few hours. My heart warms. They belong together.

Paige’s bright smile captures my attention at first.

It takes me a moment to understand that something’s wrong.

Emily’s been crying. Her eyes are red. Something must have happened. Joe’s trial has been tough for her the entire time. Then today she had to get sworn in, facing him across a courtroom. How bad could it have gone? Did he say something rude? Surely the judge wouldn’t allow that. Did the defense attorney badger the witness?

I step into the summer breeze. “Everything okay?”

She gives me a grim smile. “I’m still standing. That has to count for something.”

“It counts for a lot,” I say, my voice softening so Paige doesn’t hear. She’s drawing designs into the pebbles on the drive. She’s resilient, but she doesn’t need to hear the details of how her uncle murdered her father. Or the resulting court trial. She gets that resiliency from her mother, who’s overcome an abusive relationship and a state of hiding before being free. “Do you want me to keep her for a little longer? We can always play another round.”

“No,” she says, a little too loud. It’s still hard for her to leave Paige. I can’t even imagine what it was like for her to be away from her child for so long. Unbearable. “No, thank you. I really appreciate you watching her, but I’m fine now.”