It surprised me how many people came. The gym wasn’t packed like it used to be for a concert, but the cushioned seats were filled. Maybe, like Mrs. Trent, other people needed to get out, to forget about things for a while, to just enjoy a little music. Leland and Gray always gave great concerts.

Mrs. Trent boogied in her seat. I stared. This was a different side of her. How could I live with her every day and know so little about her?

Gran looked miserable. Little brown tone-deaf gnome. She rugged around in her seat, looking up at the naked ceiling. People came over to say hello during intermission. She introduced Mrs. Trent to them. No one knew who Mrs. Trent was, who she really was. No one suspected. Gran just said, “Meet my friend, Miriam.” She made it so simple.

After the concert, we crossed the street to the lunch counter at Townshend General Store and ordered french fries to go.

It was almost nine, and they were closing. We couldn’t sit at a table to eat. “How are we going to eat in the truck?” I asked. “I can’t even move my arms.”

Ezra shifted and flipped a fry into the air in the crowded truck cab, catching it in his mouth.

I tried it too.

Ezra rarely missed, but my fries ended up all over the truck, behind the bench seat, in Mrs. Trent’s hair. One dropped into Gran’s lap.

Ezra and I couldn’t stop laughing. We got Gran and Mrs. Trent laughing too.

It hurt, laughing that hard, all squeezed together, but we couldn’t stop. It’s a wonder Gran didn’t have an accident.

When I ran out of french fries, I grabbed Mrs. Trent’s nearly full package—like she was family or something.

“Nyle,” Gran snapped.

I felt a zap, like the electric fence.

“I’m sorry.” I handed the fries back to Mrs. Trent.

“Take them,” Mrs. Trent said. “I am having more fun watching you eat them anyway.”

But I wouldn’t take them back. Ezra took them instead. Before long he had us all laughing again.

The next week, Gran drove Mrs. Trent and Ezra into Montpelier for an appointment with some state people. They hoped to figure out how Mrs. Trent could get hold of some money.

“Nyle, you stay here and go to school,” Gran said. “After last week, there’s no question about all of us going. The truck can’t take it. Anyway, someone has to stay behind and mind things.”

The old knot tightened. What if Gran came home alone? What if Ezra and his mother found a better place to stay? What if they moved thousands of miles away, to the west coast, or back to Israel with Mrs. Trent’s family? She’d had another letter from them.