“I sure do. We’d gone to the fireworks and afterwards Daisy’s friend Tannie spent the night with me. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was. I was five years old and she was nine, and I just admired everything about her. She talked me into jumping on the bed in my room, which I wasn’t allowed to do. So there we were bouncing away, having the time of our lives. She bumped me and I toppled off and broke my arm. The bone didn’t heal right and I got a hump in it to this day. It’s one of my first concrete memories.”

I could feel myself blinking, wondering if the woman had made a fundamental mistake. “I was told Tannie went to the fireworks with her dad.”

“Oh, she did, but we ran into them at the park, and Tannie’s father asked Mother if we could keep her overnight. He said he had something to take care of and wasn’t sure what time he’d be back.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“If he did, it didn’t register with me. He might have told Mother, but she’s long dead. Why not ask Tannie? She might know.”

“I’ll do that, thanks. I truly appreciate your help.”

“You’re entirely welcome.”

27

Liza

Saturday, July 4, 1953

Liza Mellincamp often thought about her fourteenth birthday, which fell on July 3, 1953, the day before Violet Sullivan left Serena Station. Years later, she found it hard to believe so much changed in that forty-eight-hour period. She’d spent the morning of her birthday cleaning her room. Violet was taking her out for lunch, and Liza wanted to be ready in plenty of time. She had never eaten in a real restaurant and she could hardly contain herself. She and her mother had once shared a tuna sandwich at a drugstore lunch counter, but that wasn’t the same.