But this was all wrong. Couldn’t they see? Agatha, when she was awake, charming, full of zest and fun and sprinkled with popularity like some magical teenage cupcake, wouldn’t have wanted me as her friend. I had nothing to offer. Maybe once upon a time we would have gotten along. But now? I was a hollowed-out shell. In some ways I was basically a version of Agatha who could talk.

Laura dug her manicured fingernails into her palm. “They told us to send her away. To a—a facility. They call it a home, but how can a place like that be a home?”

John reached over and patted her knee, and she dialed back her emotion.

“This is her home,” she said. “And we’d like for it to be yours, as well. It’s not perfect, but life never is.”

Now wasn’t that the truth.

John leaned forward. He was trying to look relaxed, but I could see his forehead twitch. “What do you think, Margaret? Do you want to try?”

The Suttons didn’t come right out and say that if I refused to be Agatha’s companion, they’d ship me back to Palmer House. In fact, I was pretty sure they didn’t think they would. But I knew it would come to that, in time. If I said no, the mere sight of me would be an ever-present reminder of my selfish choice to neglect their darling Agatha, and what was I doing with my time otherwise? Reading? Surfing the internet? Couldn’t I do those things with her in the room? It wouldn’t take long for them to see me as a greedy person who was taking advantage of their kindness.

It wasn’t a yes or no question. It was a stay or go question.

I didn’t really want to stay.

But I really didn’t want to go back to Palmer House.

So I reached up, scratched the back of my neck, and said, “Okay.”

And their expressions, like banners advertising joy and relief, actually warmed my heart and made me glad I’d said yes. Maybe I couldn’t help them, but it was nice that they thought I could.

There was silence for a little while, during which Laura made a show of looking out the window and smiling.

“It’s a beautiful evening,” she said. “Should we have dinner on the terrace?”

John jumped slightly, as if he’d forgotten we were there. “No, I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry. I have a call at seven. I’ll eat in my study.”

“Very well,” Laura said. “Then Margaret, Agatha, and I will eat in the breakfast room.”

“Actually,” I said, “people call me Margot.”

“Margot,” Laura repeated carefully. “Spelled with a t?”

I nodded.

“How sweet,” she said. “Agatha will love it.”