“And now, after twenty years, I’m going right back to it,” she whispered.

Welcome home, baby girl. You should never have left. Vera’s voice was so real that Lily’s mother could have been in the room with her.

“You got that right.” Lily went to the front door and opened it before the doorbell even had time to ring.

An older guy with a rim of gray hair around his otherwise-bald head brought in an armload of flat boxes, dropped them in the corner of the living room, and left her six rolls of packing tape. “You do know that we’ll be glad to pack everything for you?” he asked.

“We’re not moving out permanently—at least not yet. These should be enough for now. See you early tomorrow morning.”

“Not me, but Skipper will be here to load up for you. Y’all have a safe trip.” He nodded toward her, and she closed the door behind him.

She glanced around the large living room in her apartment and sighed. She had rented the place because of that feature—lots of space so she could be with the kids more. At first, it had been great—they did their homework in the living room while she made supper. They ate around the table every evening, and they played games together. A little bit at a time, that all got away from her somehow, and a few months ago, she’d realized she was eating alone and the kids were spending all their time in their rooms or with their friends.

With another long sigh, she took stock of what had to be moved. Her lease wasn’t up until June, and her mother’s old house was still fully furnished, so the furniture would stay. If she had a pickup truck, she could probably move what they packed in it, but her compact car wouldn’t hold it all.

She picked up two of the flat boxes, folded them into shape, sealed them with tape, and carried them down the hall. She knocked on Holly’s door but didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. “Here’s your first box. When you get it filled, call me, and I’ll tape it shut and get you another one.”

Holly turned away from the window. “I’m sorry. I’ll do the dishes by hand for a year. I’ll never smoke weed again. I’ll even miss the parties this weekend.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Lily said, “but the weed was the last straw, not the first one. You’ve been getting more and more belligerent and disrespectful. I’d expect some of that out of a senior in high school, but not a freshman. We’re moving to Comfort. It’s up to you and your brother whether we come back to Austin for the next school year, or if we stay there until both of you graduate.”