“Yeah.”

Linnea could see Anna had already shut her out. “Do you want to talk to someone?”

“I’m talking with you.”

“No, I mean, a therapist? Someone objective to help you through this?”

“And how am I going to pay for that?” Anna shook her head. “I’ll figure it out.” She pushed back her chair.

Linnea stopped her by putting a hand on her arm. “Wait, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

Anna tilted her head. “Oh yeah?”

“Gordon called. He’s arriving in a few weeks.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Linnea cringed. “He’ll be staying here.”

Anna’s brows shot up. “He’s moving in here?” She looked away, thought a moment, then turned back. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah.”

Anna twisted a smile. “So, is he going to chip in too? Dishes, laundry, follow the schedule?”

Linnea lifted her shoulders. “I suppose he will.”

“Cool.” Anna rose and picked up her bowl, spoon, and coffee cup. “Got it, roomie. No wallowing. Neat and tidy.” She turned and went to the sink, where she promptly washed her dishes and set them in the strainer. Then she sponged off the counter, rinsed the sponge, and dried her hands.

“I’ll try to find something to help me feel better.” Anna stood quietly for a moment, as though she wanted to say more, but only turned and walked out of the kitchen.

A minute later, Linnea heard the bedroom door close.

THE LONG-AWAITED WARM weather returned. Despite the sunshine, however, the pandemic worries and fears hovered over the lowcountry, as they did the world. It was strange not to participate in Easter church services, neighborhood egg hunts, or spring breaks. April was the beginning of the peak wedding season, and Charleston and its surrounding plantations and beaches were the top wedding destinations in the county. Yet this year the spring weddings were canceled, shops were closed, restaurants were shuttered, and few people ventured from their homes. Linnea could walk down King Street on one of her rare ventures into the city and see maybe one or two others peeking in the windows, not venturing inside.

Nonetheless, Linnea noticed that the natural world outside her window continued in its normal pattern. She looked out the window and chuckled, as she always did when she saw the Rube Goldberg contraption John had built when he’d installed the new bird feeder. It hung from the kitchen window in such a clever way that no squirrels or varmints could reach it. There was even a trap tray underneath it that somehow opened and closed to contain the dropped seeds. It looked a bit wonky, but it somehow worked.

The feeder was a happening place. All sorts of birds visited for the seed she was careful to keep full in the tray. She usually spied a cherry-red cardinal, or a noisy blue jay, or a bossy mockingbird. Her first instinct was always to call for Hope to come look. Linnea began a journal, writing down the names of the birds she identified to share with Hope. By the month’s end, she was surprised how many birds she’d listed: tufted titmice, grackles, finches, chickadees. Plump gray mourning doves with their sweet coos swooped in when the others left. And the ever-present squirrels were comical as they desperately tried to get to the seeds, only to fail again and again. She looked at the long metal arm John had constructed for the bird feeder and smiled. He truly was the master builder.