“Not that I remember. And in the albums, there isn’t a single photo of me bouncing on his knee, sitting by him at the table, playing at his feet. Grandma used to babysit me after school at our house, but I don’t have any recollection of his coming along to help. I mean, that’s not a huge realization. I guess that information has always been in the back of my mind, but I put it down to what Mom and Dad always said about him, how he was so grumpy. Grumpy Gramps. He was grumpy—and distant. But something in those photographs and in my memories of Mom, when she was facing Gramps or even just talking about him outside his presence, makes me think she—”

“Was afraid of him?”

Maggie nodded. “And didn’t trust him.”

For a moment, Wren frowned at the floor. Abruptly: “Is she conscious of that, do you think?”

Maggie shrugged. “Mom’s pretty good at putting problems out of her head and moving on.”

“Some people can do that. Forget the past or rewrite it. Or just blank it out. Run away from it. That’s what Linnie does.”

“Yeah…” Maggie remembered Linnie’s rant the night they drove home from the Cannons’ house. She did do that. And she recommended others do the same. With a tired moan, Maggie got to her feet. “So that’s what I realized from those albums. It’s what I think I learned, anyway. I wanted you to know.”

“Thanks, Margaret. I’m glad you told me, though…” Her voice trailed off. She sighed.

Maggie nodded. What good did this information do? Unless Mom faced what she subconsciously knew, the truth was like a treasure at the bottom of Lake Ontario. It helped nobody.

20

THE NEXT MORNING, Maggie woke to an empty house. She and the aunt had said their good-byes before bedtime the previous night. Up until the moment Wren began shutting off the studio lights, Maggie had hoped her aunt might invite her to come along on the trip. Instead, she’d given her a brisk, one-armed hug and said, “I left Thomas’s and Sam’s numbers on the fridge. If anything happens and you can’t get ahold of me, call one of them. Help yourself to whatever’s in the pantry and fridge. I picked up milk and eggs. Fruit and bread, too. There’s soup in the freezer. Eat it up. You good with holding down the fort for a few days?” Maggie had nodded and quit daydreaming about skyscrapers, fine restaurants, galleries, and museums.

Now from her bed, she stared at the wispy flakes floating by the window. No heavy snow or whipping wind this morning. Wren would be okay.