“When you go to a café in France, this is what all the people drink from,” Mama said once.

“Have you been to France, Mama?” Olive asked.

“No,” she said. “But that’s the first thing we’ll do when we find that treasure—go off and see the world! Sit down and have a café au lait in a French café!”

Olive checked the oven—she was baking cinnamon buns from a can. She’d bought them herself at the general store. Her father didn’t go to the grocery store much these days. Riley used to bring sacks of groceries when she came over, but Daddy got mad and told her to quit doing that, that they weren’t a goddamn charity case. Olive would ask him for a little cash here and there so she could pick up what they needed at Ferguson’s General Store in town: coffee, milk, cereal, bread, canned soups. Nothing fancy. The cinnamon rolls, they were kind of an extravagance, but she was in a celebratory mood.

“Morning, Ollie,” Daddy said, coming into the kitchen. “You had the news on at all?”

“No,” she said.

He took in a breath, puffed out his cheeks as he let it go. “Terrible thing,” he said in a low voice. “A bus crash out on Route 4 last night. Full of seniors from the high school coming back from a trip to Boston. A bunch hurt, three killed. Might be kids you know.” He watched her, waiting to see how she’d respond.

Olive nodded. She didn’t really know any seniors. Sure, she passed them in the halls, and sometimes they seemed to know her (or her story at least, and would whisper or giggle to each other as they walked by).

“Did the bus hit another car?”

“No, it went off the road. They’re saying the driver swerved to avoid something in the road. An animal, maybe.”

Olive nodded, wasn’t sure what else to say.

Daddy looked around the kitchen, shuffled his feet.

“There’s coffee ready,” Olive said.

“Sure smells good in here.” He smiled.

“I’m making cinnamon rolls,” she said.

“Ya are, huh?” He reached for the pot of coffee on the stove, poured himself a cup. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just thought we deserved a treat,” she said.

He smiled at her, ruffled her hair. “You’re right, kiddo. We do deserve a treat.”

The timer went off and Olive took the rolls out of the oven, put them on top of the stove to cool.

“You got plans after school?” he asked.