“What are you looking at?” Mom leaned forward to see the photograph. “Oh.”

Maggie caught her lower lip in her teeth and gingerly closed the album.

“No, no,” Mom said loudly, “get a good look at our happy memories. Better do it now. Wren’s about to obliterate them.” Her fingers went to her forehead and rested there, as if to ward off a glare from the sun.

“You’re sure the memories were all happy?”

“For me, yes. Sufficiently happy.” Her voice was clipped, but it cracked when she continued, “And memories are all I have left of those two.”

“You still have Wren. Shouldn’t you try to”—Maggie raised her shoulders—“keep her?”

Mom’s hand fell to the floor. “I see whose side you’re on.”

“Don’t be like that. I only wish her exhibition wasn’t such a problem. After all these years, after you two are finally getting along…” She rubbed her eyes. “I hate to think of some fired clay ruining your relationship.”

“Fabricating dirty laundry and airing it in everyone’s faces.” Mom folded her arms and added bitterly, “Family concerns, personal business—just blaring it all to the whole world.”

Maggie flinched at the choice of the word fabricating. “Artists reveal difficult issues. That’s, like, their job.”

“In Wren’s case,” Mom said coolly, “it’s a job that pays very well, I’m sure.”

Maggie gazed at her mutely. Her mother’s comments—doubting the truthfulness of what her sister was exposing, wanting any hint of it kept secret, implying Wren was milking the situation to make money—were ugly. And familiar. How often had Maggie been accused of speaking up about matters “better left unsaid,” flat-out lying, ruining people’s cherished memories, and even setting out to do it for money, though she’d never filed a lawsuit or done anything that would have benefited her financially? “Wren’s not trying to make you agree with her or even participate. She’s just giving you the heads-up.”

“So for the next month, I steer clear, keep my eyes off art magazine covers, and avoid reading the reviews?”

“That’s an option.”

“And cover my ears if someone stops by to discuss the show?”

“If you have to, yeah.”

“And turn off the radio when NPR covers Wren Heed?”

Maggie blew an exasperated sigh. “Depending on how committed you are to avoiding the truth, then yes, I suppose you’ll have to stay away from the media, in general, for a couple of weeks.”

“So!” Mom’s finger struck the air like a baton. “You’re convinced that what she’s putting out there is the truth.”

“I don’t think Wren is a liar,” she answered cautiously.

“And I am?”