WITH THE EXCUSE of taking a walk, Maggie and Linnie escaped the tension in the cabin. Lake Ontario sparkled under the late-morning sun. The ice fringing the shore had mostly melted, and across the east end’s crop of rocks, the snow had turned tensile, streaked with seaweed and pockmarked with the recent rain. It was almost Christmas, but the weather looked like it was gearing up for spring.

Holding on to a bent pine by the rocks, Maggie stretched out a leg and tested a clump with her boot. The snow detached from its berth. It slapped the water and turned in a drunken reel. Maggie drew back, shoved her hands into her coat pockets, and caught up with Linnie.

They walked into a gust. Their hair flew up, threaded together, and swirled around.

Linnie grabbed her strands and pinned them over her shoulder. When they reached the lake’s edge, she said, “I wrote to Danielle.”

“That’s awesome.” Maggie’s unzipped jacked fluttered open. She caught the sides and folded them over her chest like a shawl. “Did she write back yet?”

Linnie smiled shyly. “Almost right away. She sounded … happy. We’re meeting for supper at the Dinosaur Bar-B-Que Sunday night.” She reached out a hand, and as Maggie took it, she asked, “You still willing to go with me?” After Maggie nodded, she continued, “We’ll have to leave here by quarter of six.”

“Are you excited?”

“Nervous.” Leaning forward, she released Maggie’s hand and narrowed her eyes on the lake.

“What is it?” Maggie followed the direction of her gaze.

“I’m looking for Toronto. Wren swears, on a perfectly clear day, you can make out the teeniest tiniest speck of civilization on the opposite shore.”

She squinted at the horizon, then gave up with a “Huh.” The lake might have been an ocean. The distance made her think about Sam. “What’s going on with the art institute?”

“Your aunt told Sam to hold off on a decision and just work on finishing his sculpture.” A smile quivered on her lips. “You know—the brain sculpture. Wren said if it comes out of the kiln looking cool, he’ll have some images to add to his portfolio. She wants him to send the portfolio to Alfred, see if what happened with Chicago might happen there, too.”

“That’s a great idea.” Sam could commute to Alfred—which made it more doable than Chicago. “Wren went to Alfred. I wonder if she’ll pull a few strings.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised … though I suppose Sam’s plenty good enough to get into the college without her help.”

“But he has to be able to afford it.”

“Yeah.” Linnie exhaled. “That’s the tricky part.”

Maggie folded her arms and peered across the lake. Sam’s future, Linnie’s, her own—all like Toronto. There, but impossible to decipher.

Now even her parents’ future looked uncertain. Would they move?