“Well, at first she was wary of having a man assigned to your sister, of course.”

“But she was fine with Trevor after that, wasn’t she?”

“Oh — I think she was,” said Eleanor. “She definitely grew fond of him, and everyone said he had a great rapport with Kelli. But your mother did call the office at one point early on to ask if they’d . . .” Eleanor paused. “Not reprimand him, exactly.”

The phone was becoming hot against my cheek.

“She didn’t want him taken out of rotation,” continued Eleanor. “And she was very clear she didn’t want them to mention she’d even called. But she asked that they switch him out with another worker maybe once a week. Just so he wasn’t coming over quite so often.”

It was at this point that Kelli, who’d been huffing and puffing with impatience in the seat beside me, reached a breaking point and started demanding to know why exactly the car was not moving forward, toward the spaghetti I had promised her for dinner.

“Just a second, Kell,” I snapped. “I’m on the phone.” After which I took a deep breath, kicking myself for snapping at Kelli within earshot of Eleanor Mallon.

“And did they?” I asked Eleanor. “Did they switch Trevor out with someone else?”

“They didn’t,” tutted Eleanor. “They told her they didn’t have another worker available at the time.”

I tried to imagine Margot’s face, even though we’d never met. Pasty and soft, like bread dough. Tart, slappable mouth calling you “dear.”

“And what,” I pressed Eleanor, “did my mother say? When they told her they couldn’t switch him out?”

“I believe she told them that she’d manage.”

“So that was it? Nothing was done?”

“She didn’t call again,” said Eleanor. “She assured them she’d be fine.”

Kelli and I drove home. I ignored her as she complained at all the stoplights — she always did this, taking umbrage at the idea that something as arbitrary as a glowing red circle could arrest her forward motion. “Geen,” she would command, every time we hit a red light. “Light geen now, Karie.” Normally I would engage, explain the light was not yet green, but red. And Kelli, even though I was pretty sure she knew the difference, would argue about it until the light finally did switch over. Then she’d settle back in her seat with an air of smugness as if she’d been right all along — at least until we hit the next red. But now I had no patience for our usual routines.

We drove across the Angus L. Macdonald Bridge, where there were no lights to antagonize her, and Kelli lost herself for a time, gazing at the downtown cranes and cruise ships in the harbour.

“Do you think she even liked Trevor?” I said.

Kelli glanced at me. “Trebie gone.”

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t know what makes me feel worse. That he looked after her when I didn’t. Or that he didn’t. Or maybe he did — but she didn’t want him to.”