“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Maude said, setting the jar back on the shelf. In Kansas they ground their own mustard seeds with a little vinegar and called it a day. The luxury in Walter’s store was an affront to Maude’s thrifty soul.

Their father didn’t care about mustard prices. He was too fascinated with the spigot on the delicatessen sink and how it could supply water even though there was no well behind the shop. The concept of a municipal water system was a new and marvelous thing for Roy. Long after Maude had her fill of the shop, Roy asked Walter all kinds of questions about the plumbing, the cash register, and how the electric lamps worked.

Their father was endlessly curious about the city, wanting to know how the streetcars stayed balanced on the sunken tracks and who paid for the streetlamps. That evening Annabelle warned her parents that they would need to lower the shades on the bedroom window or else the streetlamps would keep them awake.

“They leave them on all night?” Maude asked. There was no need for window shades at their farmhouse, where only owls and raccoons roamed the night.

“All night,” Annabelle confirmed. “It’s for safety.”

“Good heavens,” Maude exclaimed. “If I’d known it was this unsafe in the city, I would never have consented for my girls to come.”

Maude had resisted their move to Washington from the moment Elaine raised the possibility. Maude and Elaine had always been unusually close, but after Elaine lost her sight, Maude had continually hovered within a few feet of her daughter. The moment Elaine rose from a chair, Maude would be at her side to walk her across the room, pour her a glass of water, or cut her meat. She didn’t believe Elaine could function without her and threw out one excuse after another to stop her beloved oldest daughter from leaving. She usually cited the cost, for there was never enough money on the farm.

Roy had sold the milking goats to raise money, then bought two train tickets without consulting Maude. Once the tickets were purchased, Maude could find no more excuses for standing in Elaine’s way, but the night before they left, Anabelle heard her mother quietly weeping on the back porch. She’d never heard her mother cry before that night, and it was upsetting.

In her heart, Maude believed their sojourn to Washington would fail and it was only a matter of time before Elaine would return to Kansas. Walter had ruined that, and Maude could find nothing about Washington that pleased her.

Just before they all turned in for the evening, Roy beckoned Annabelle over to show her an article in the newspaper. “It says here there’s a skeleton of a mastodon in the Smithsonian. What’s a mastodon?”

She searched for the words. “It’s like an elephant, but bigger.”