“Yoo hoo,” was the answer in Aunt Evie’s pleasantest voice.

And Tess opened the door again. And Aunt Evie walked into the room.

As she did, “the person who used to be Max” walked in from the garden and said, as if on cue, “Oh, Aunt Evie, is it that late already? Have our parents come? Is it time to dress for dinner? Is it all right if I wear a white button-down shirt with cufflinks?”

Max had never had cufflinks before. At least not any that Tess had ever seen or knew about.

Before Tess could interject, Aunt Evie said, “I’m afraid—” she hesitated as she was upset about this, too. “I have a bit of bad news. So many planes were delayed, that your parents weren’t able to get on one today. . . .”

Tess felt another tear drop from her right eye. She wiped it away. She was kind of counting on her mom and dad this time. She wasn’t sure she was up to this.

Aunt Evie’s voice got softer. “The network got them on a plane tomorrow though. Guaranteed! Your dad wanted to drive. Can you imagine?”

“It’s an eleven-hour drive,” said Tess. “Max looked it up. Actually, eleven and a half.”

“The person who used to be Max” didn’t say anything except, “I’ll save the cufflinks for tomorrow, then. How do you feel about the blue shirt I have, with the white collar, Tess?”

Tess thought to herself, What blue shirt with what white collar? But out loud she said, “That would be lovely.” She realized she’d started it this time, with the comment about the length of the drive, but she also realized it might not be the best strategy to play the game right now.

Tess walked into the bedroom, shut the door, took her blue denim dress out of the closet and her black patent leather sandals. She reminded herself to breathe. She couldn’t help it: the breath came out sort of as a sigh.

She looked over at the dresser and for reasons that she couldn’t explain, went into the dresser drawer and took the cat’s eye marble out from behind her socks where she’d hidden it. She set it down on the bedside table, still wrapped in the lace handkerchief. She put on the blue denim dress. And she carefully dropped the cat’s eye marble, still wrapped in the lace, into the front right pocket of her dress.

She put her hand on her hip, so that her fingers were over the pocket and she felt a spark, a strange warmth coming, she suspected, from the marble. Somehow, it gave her a feeling of strength, empowerment, although she had no idea what that could mean or how it could be used.