Colette had just died. My mom was going to take me and Frankie to Portland to go shopping for funeral clothes, and I was planning to buy a copy of this book about an aspiring singer that Colette had loved but lost. Our closest bookstore didn’t have the book in stock, so Portland was my best chance. I wanted to put the book in her casket so she could have it forever.

But then Mom and Frankie had ruined it.

“Are you ready to leave after breakfast?” Mom asked Frankie, serving her a second helping of scrambled eggs. “Remember, we’re going shopping and then out for lunch, just us girls?”

“I don’t need new clothes,” Frankie said flatly.

“You don’t have anything black—at least any nice clothes,” Mom said, holding the spatula in midair. She had that look on her face like she was holding her breath.

“Wearing black to funerals is stupid,” Frankie said, shoving half the serving of eggs in her mouth at once, chewing twice, then swallowing. “You should wear colors that the person liked. I’m doing that.”

“Frankie, it’s traditional to—”

“I don’t care,” Frankie interrupted. “I’m wearing a blue hoodie because Colette liked blue.” She looked at my mom defiantly. “I’m not going to Portland.”

Our mom had taken a deep breath, then said, “I’d like you to go with me and your sister and get something respectful to wear to—”

“No.” Frankie got up, put her plate in the dishwasher, and left the cottage, leaving our mom staring after her.

“She’s just upset about Colette,” Mom said quietly, making excuses for Frankie’s behavior like usual. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

“But we’re still going, right?” I asked.

She looked at me then like she’d forgotten I was there, like she’d just been talking to herself. “Oh . . . yes . . . I think so.” She paused, touching her finger to her lip. “I need to talk to Charles. He’s working the front desk, and I’m not sure it’s right to leave Frankie alone right now.”

“She won’t be alone,” I said. “Charles will be here.”

“But he won’t be able to check in with her if he’s working,” Mom said. “Maybe it’d be better if I stayed nearby.” She paused, looking at me but more like through me. “You’ve gotten so tall, I bet I have something in my closet you can wear . . .” Her words had trailed off as she started down the hallway toward her bedroom.

I’d sat alone at the table for a long time after that, staring down at my empty plate, thinking how my mom hadn’t noticed that I’d been out of eggs when she’d made more for Frankie, thinking how she never noticed anything about me at all.

The sound of a hair dryer brought me back to reality.