“She was a junior in high school, right?” Maggie winced at the thought. Weird that Linnie was only a few years older than her.

“Not only that. Muriel—Sam’s mom—had just died.” The aunt set her mug on the table, arranged it, as if she were positioning it for a photograph. “Linnie was in rough shape.” She smiled grimly. “Rougher than usual. Drugs, depression, alcohol, cutting. In no position to become a mother. And she knew it. But Sam—he cried and begged…” She shrugged. “Thomas sided with Sam. He didn’t come right out and admit it, but it was pretty obvious, the way he was offering tons of support to help them raise the child.”

Wren sat up and took a sip of her coffee before continuing, “Linnie pulled her shit together as well as she could during the pregnancy, then fell apart again afterward.” She heaved a sigh. “So they kept Kate. And we all love her, including Linnie.” The aunt must have seen some doubt in Maggie’s face, because she said curtly, “I’m telling you, Margaret, Linnie loves that little girl. Taking off is just her messed-up way of protecting her kid, shielding Kate from herself, from the sight of her problems.” She ran her hands over the surface of the table. “I’m not dredging up this drama to gossip. And I’m not giving Linnie a free pass. But I—I guess I want you to understand her a bit better. It’s not like she dropped the ball after Kate was born. The ball was already dropped. Sam and Thomas knew this, but they bullied and guilted her into doing what they wanted. I get that they were grieving and hurting and missing Muriel. I get that. But still. What they did … frankly, it pisses me off.”

The end of October passed quietly, the days drifting by like the leaves sashaying to the ground, silent and slow.

Even Maggie’s brain—usually so quick to find triggers that could hurl her back to last spring—gave her a freaking break. If there were Linnie crises or Kate tantrums, Maggie didn’t hear about them. In fact, she didn’t hear much of anything from anyone. One Sunday morning, without coming right out and disinviting Maggie from the studio, the aunt made it clear she needed her workplace to herself. “Hope you’re okay with pizza and subs this week. And you’ll probably be eating them by yourself. I have got to finish my last piece. The show’s in the beginning of December.” She looked harried and gloomy but pinned on a weak smile to tease, “We’ll get you in the studio for your next therapy session as soon as I wrap up the firings.”