She would, however, no longer ask Maude what she wanted. Back when the large-tent, two-pig version of the party was on, Maude suggested they make “something simple, like fried chicken or some such.” Fried chicken for one hundred would turn their house into a splatter of buttermilk and Tabasco, clods of flour, ribbons of grease. They were already dealing with the gift horse of two hundred oysters ordered by Maude’s children. Everyone would wait for Polly or Ned or Merle or Jane to handle the problem of shucking, but at least they’d finally have a use for Graham, who’d put a good Seattle oyster house on his resume.

“She’s not delusional,” said Jane, speaking as if Maude were not at the table after she brought the fried chicken idea up again for the picnic. “She doesn’t cook, and so she doesn’t understand.”

Maude smiled, snatched back her list, and added confit de canard.

Polly watched through the window as Ned casually threw an empty recycling bin half the length of the yard.

“Pasta for the picnic, then,” said Maude. “One of my mother’s recipes.”

“You want me to bring a pot and boil pasta on the riverbank?” said Polly.

“Lasagna?” Maude asked. “Though I’ve heard it’s bad luck for birthdays.”

And so it was a plan. Not a hundred layers, or even ninety, but at least twenty. Polly would make a second tray for the Delgados, because they’d lost their daughter, and this was what one did, whether or not the family was ready to accept it yet. After four full days and nights in the river, they had to understand.

When Polly made the list, she added past days, for the sake of checking them off.

June 30, Sunday, home: chili

July 1, Monday, home: potpie

July 2, Tuesday, home: salmon & socca

July 3, Wednesday, picnic: lasagna, Caesar, molasses cookies

July 4, Thursday, home: leftovers? rabbit?

July 5, Friday, party, home: oysters, pork, etc.

July 6, Saturday, home: leftovers

July 7, Sunday, ??

“It might be nice to go to the restaurant toward the end of the week,” said Jane.

“Oh, let’s not,” said Maude. “I do love Polly’s cooking.”

They went to the first night of the three-day rodeo, lest the world go downhill. Ned did not do the rodeo, though he helped with the fireworks. Horses gave him asthma, and the announcer’s jokes about liberals enraged him and gave him an excuse to drink heavily, along with most other elements of the holiday. Polly packed blankets for the rest of them, an inhaler for Sam, an extra coat for Maude and for Merle, who never understood how cold it was at night at this altitude, wads of cash for glow sticks, cotton candy, bad drinks, popcorn. People paid homage to Maude, while Jane, who’d spent summers here as a child, worked the rest of the crowd.