Harriet takes a bite of the brownie, licks the vanilla ice cream from her lips. She’s a quirky woman but with a head for business and a bed-and-breakfast that attracts all kinds. She and her husband, Pete, were nomads who traveled from one outsized adventure to the next. They came to Whittier in the eighties, intending to stay for one summer of fishing before heading off to some other destination. Harriet says that once they made it through a winter here, they decided they were tough enough to survive a few more. So they never left. “Which is why,” she continues, “income be damned, I told them to leave. They broke my no-weed rule, and they’re stupid.” She blows air through her lips. “Witches. Silliest thing I ever heard. Didn’t even know a single spell either.” Pete owns the only bar and restaurant that stays open in the winter, the one I can see from my apartment window. For a shared glass of wine, Harriet will let anyone use a pair of binoculars to check whether a spouse has left the bar. It’s good to know in case they stumble into a bear or lose their way in the fog. Harriet pushes the empty plate away from her. “Melt in your mouth. I’ll have to give my compliments to the baker. But something was different from her last batch. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Sefina nods. “A little spicy. Cinnamon, maybe?”

“I’ll be damned,” Harriet says. “She’s just as creative as she’s always been.”

“Who?” I ask.

The table goes quiet, punctured by Ruth’s fork clattering heavily onto her plate. “Alice,” she says. “She said she was going to stop by this afternoon. Did she?”

My grip on the fork tightens, sends the tines skittering through melted ice cream. My mother is in Whittier? I can feel their eyes on me, expectant—probably waiting for my reaction. I breathe in and out, try to untangle the knot in my stomach and focus on the tender crumbs of brownie drowning in the ice cream. Do I know she’s back? I try to act like the news hasn’t skyrocketed my pulse, try to casually flip through my notebook. No notes about Mom, and I can only imagine how it’s affecting Dad. I look up, shrug. “Nope, she didn’t.”