Zadie looked around, as if her mother was still in the house, watching them from the shadows. “She stayed here? For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks. She was in no shape to travel. I mean, she wasn’t injured really, but her memory was spotty and she had no ID. She seemed lost. Amy offered to let her stay in the apartment above our barn. I didn’t think it was a great idea—she was a stranger, you know—but Amy insisted. She had a big heart.” Myron smiled to himself and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, or perhaps to push certain thoughts aside.

“Is your wife here?”

“No,” he said, wavering. “Amy passed last year.” As Zadie struggled to find a response, he added, “I’ve got my girls. I’m lucky.”

Finn, of course, already knew all of this. She was looking directly at the buffet table they’d set up in the living room for Amy’s wake. It had a cheese platter, a perfectly mundane item that appeared profoundly sad sitting next to an arrangement of white lilies. Slowly the room began to fill with black shapes. One of them was Myron, in a black suit and lavender tie. Lavender was Amy’s favorite color. Finn wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she didn’t want to know anything else. Without thinking, she held her breath, trying to starve the memory of oxygen, and the cheese, lilies, and lavender tie retreated like ghosts into the wood paneling.

“Can I ask how you knew her?” Myron was speaking again. “We didn’t know much about her life. I don’t think she remembered enough to tell anyone about it.”

Zadie paused, leaving an opening for Finn to speak. When her sister didn’t take it, she answered, “She’s our mom.”

“Your mom?” Myron looked from Zadie to Finn, who deftly avoided his gaze by pretending to look out the window. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

In true Zadie fashion, she let his sympathy slide off her. “We’re hoping you can help us. We’re trying to figure out where she went.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”

Before they could take him up on his offer, the front door swung open and Rowan, Hazel, and Juniper bustled inside, screen door slapping behind them.

“Hazel! Cut it out!” Juniper whined as her older sister held her by the Y of her overalls. Hazel let go, and Juniper stumbled forward, nearly falling on her face.

“Hazel, stop strap-dropping your sister.” Myron attempted to sound authoritative, but it didn’t quite land.

“What? She thinks it’s funny,” Hazel shot back.

“No, I don’t!” Juniper had pulled off one of her boots and looked like she was in the process of deciding how to best hit her sister with it.