“Yes. I am sure of it. You know, Sam, I’ve always thought poor Betsy knew more than she’s told us. I mean, she was the last person to see her sister alive, but she’s never really talked about it.” Sort of. I look out the window and realize we’re stopped in front of the high school. I take a deep breath. I try not to come here. Memories, vivid, happy, proud memories of Mary and her achievements crowd every corner of this place. My stature was elevated by her achievements. With Betsy, my stature is diminished, but I love my artsy, fringe daughter. I’m here, aren’t I? It’s so interesting how children can be so different. Same upbringing, same opportunity. Totally different manifestations.

Sam opens my door. The street sign above his head says No Stopping At Any Time. The sign at the cliffs reads: Danger. Area Closed. People Have Fallen to Their Death from This Point. Stay Out. Both very clear, but look: we’re stopped right here even though we aren’t supposed to be. We’re all like Mary. We push boundaries, break rules, disobey the ones we love.

Just six months ago, up the coast a few hundred miles from here, a young woman fell over a cliff as she celebrated a marriage proposal from her boyfriend. She jumped up and down in excitement, and fell, dying of her injuries. In another spot, a young couple fell to their deaths while taking a selfie at cliff’s edge. Their children, ages five and six, witnessed the tragic accident. A seventeen-year-old boy hiking with his family along another stretch of the beautiful California coastline ran ahead to see the beautiful vista. He did not feel safe standing and sat down, but as he positioned himself for that better look, the ground gave way and he slipped, falling four hundred feet, landing near the edge of the ocean, dying of his injuries. Accidents happen all the time, sure. But what if, in each of these cases, the story was different? What if the young man found out his about-to-be fiancée had cheated on him the night before? What if the couple taking a selfie had a suicide pact? What if the teenage boy didn’t really slip? What if somebody pushed Mary off the cliff? What if it was someone she knew?

“Mrs. H.?”

I blink. I must have drifted for a moment. “Oh, sorry. Sam. Thank you. I’ll be ready for a pickup in an hour.” I didn’t notice we had company. It’s Angelica, Betsy’s counselor. Mary’s, too. “Angelica. Nice to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Harris. Actually, the Volunteer Day activities will last until noon. Will that work with your schedule? Can you stay? We’d love to have you.”

I need to be home at noon. “Sam, does 11:45 work?”

“Whatever you need, Mrs. H. See you then.”