I do not point out the white sedan in the carport, or the muffled sound of the television we can hear coming from inside. I push the doorbell a second time and glance up into the swaying tops of the telephone pole pine trees that gather in little crowds across her property.

I am just about to turn and throw up my hands when I hear approaching footsteps. The front door pulls back and only a screen separates us. I study her face, looking for clues that this is the girl I saw in the yearbook photograph, but it’s hard to say from one picture and one meeting.

“Can I help you?” Her smile falters at the sight of us. We are obviously not who she was expecting.

“Hi,” I say too loudly. “Are you Sabrina? Sabrina White?”

She blinks. “Who’s asking?”

I glance back at Daniel for courage and take his hand. “Um, I think you may have known my mother. You went to school together here.”

Her face relaxes a little, her eyes widen, but she does not move to open the screen door between us. “Is that so?”

“Her name is Mary,” I supply. “Mary Gage. She was a couple of years older than you.”

Her lips purse. That’s what I see first. And then she casts her eyes down at the floor. They bounce up again. And then down again. She rubs her neck. “I remember Mary” is all she says.

I sigh with relief. “I know this is strange,” I admit. “But can we come in and ask you some questions about that time? It’s just, my mom is sick. And, well, I’m trying to piece some things together.”

More lip pursing. “Sure,” she says with a tone of resignation. “Why the hell not?”

Sabrina’s kitchen is like a scene from that creepy My Obsession docuseries. Everything that stands still long enough is covered in Coca-Cola branding. The logo, the letters, the colors are everywhere. She even has an old Coke vending machine angled cutely in one corner with little Coke tchotchkes stacked on top. It’s all red and white and pale green with a dab of mustard thrown in for contrast.

“I’m a collector,” she says when she catches us looking around with wide, slightly freaked-out eyes. She says this as if it makes sense of it somehow.

I nod. “Nice.”

Daniel clears his throat beside me.

“You kids want something to drink?”

“I’ll take something,” I say. Daniel nods.

“Coke?” she asks brightly.

“Perfect.” I try not to sound condescending.

Sabrina pulls three bottles out of her fridge and pops the tops. They are the fancy glass bottles and not the typical plastic ones. She hands us each one and says, “Coke always tastes better in the glass bottle.”