Wren had mentioned this dilemma to Maggie over their morning coffee. “Told Thomas I’d call him back if I came up with a solution,” she said. “Wish I could help, but I can’t miss the gallery opening. Otherwise, I’d babysit Kate. Do you think maybe you could…?”

Maggie set down her mug with a thud. “Just because I have a uterus doesn’t mean I like watching kids.” Especially that kid.

The aunt’s mouth quivered, then she burst out laughing.

Maggie frowned. I am dead serious.

“Point taken,” Wren finally said, then started laughing again, brokenly acknowledging through her mirth, “Kate’s a handful, isn’t she?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she muttered. Then, in a kinder tone: “But I’m happy to help Sam with the move.”

Well, maybe not happy, but she’d much rather heave furniture than play nanny. Thomas could watch Kate. Maggie was done babysitting that kid.

Still, this going-somewhere business left Maggie feeling discombobulated, misplaced. She frowned at the passing houses. The whole week had sucked, and not just because Jane’s email kept needling Maggie, making her feel miserable and guilty.

First, she’d faced the Tortured-by-Kate Monday.

Then a weird Tuesday. She’d spent it polishing and scrubbing everything in the cabin, whether it needed it or not. But when she’d entered the hallway and crouched to gather the cleaning supplies, she’d heard her aunt talking on the phone: “Well, duh, Adam. Of course I’d like to finish it by December. It’s not like I’m trying to go slow, and I need the money. Fuck it then. We’ll do the show without it. Okay. Fine.” And Maggie had hurried past the doorway, wondering who Adam was and what project had him harping on her aunt.

Then Wednesday and Thursday, though moderately encouraging on the reading front (she’d managed to finish My Name Is Lucy Barton but gave up on Middlemarch) and brilliant with sunshine, had suffered from squalls of a different kind. Almost all the rumblings related to Linnie. On Wednesday, after a nearly two-week absence, Linnie suddenly reappeared, not at her and Sam’s place but at Kate’s elementary school. Without warning anyone, she picked up her daughter, took her on a trip—to Darien Lake Theme Park, Sam discovered from Linnie’s breezy text—and dropped her off at Thomas’s house the next day. For those twenty-four hours, the aunt’s house teemed with angry calls and worry.