“Come in,” said Lu. She swung the door open and Joy stepped inside.

“What’s going on?” Joy asked. “You weren’t very clear on the phone.”

What Lu had actually said was, “Everything’s fine, Joy. Maggie’s here and I think you should come and pick her up.” In retrospect, Joy appreciated that—mothers, well-trained babysitters, and school nurses all knew to begin a phone call with everything’s fine, unless, of course, it wasn’t.

“Come into the kitchen,” said Lu. She was speaking in a near whisper. “The boys are sleeping,” she added. She pointed toward the stairs, where Joy could see a hall light turned down low.

The first thing Joy noticed was how natural Maggie looked. Maggie wasn’t supposed to look natural in other people’s kitchens! In front of her was an empty bowl with a spoon and traces of chocolate in it. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she said immediately. Her mouth was set in a defensive grimace.

“You’re supposed to be grounded,” said Joy. She hated the way her voice sounded, desperate and tight. “What’s going on, Maggie? Why’d you leave without telling me?”

“I’m sorry,” said Maggie again, without answering any of the questions.

“Ice cream?” Lu suggested brightly. She was watching the two of them carefully, her eyes moving back and forth. Joy saw now that there was a second bowl with a spoon in it on the counter. Wasn’t that lovely: a nice little ice-cream party for two.

“No, thank you,” she said curtly.

“It’s homemade,” said Maggie, too eagerly. “Lu makes her own.”

I’m sure she does, thought Joy. Which she has plenty of time to do, because she doesn’t have a job and she has a doctor husband, a helpful mother-in-law she complains about for being too helpful (Maggie had told her that), and her very own babysitter.

“Sounds so good,” she said. I’m sure she churns her own butter too. “But I had a big dinner. I’m completely stuffed.”

Maggie had a strange look on her face. It reminded her of the look Maggie had had that time she flew off the swing at Ball O’Brien Park and had the wind knocked out of her—there had been an excruciating few seconds before she opened her eyes when Joy was positive she had died. “Maggie?” she said. She could hear the way her own voice cracked. “What’s the matter?”

“I hurt my wrist,” said Maggie, at the same time that Lu said, “I think her wrist might be broken.”

Now Joy could see the unshed tears in Maggie’s eyes. She hadn’t noticed the way Maggie was sitting, with her right palm over her left wrist. She’d been too busy thinking snarky thoughts about the ice cream. She was suddenly reminded of her daughter at age five, when Joy had forgotten to put the money under Maggie’s pillow for a tooth and Maggie, struggling to be very brave, had said that she understood and that the Tooth Fairy probably missed the last ferry and would have to come the next night.