Before I left, Jane took me aside in the lodge and offered me a cold fizzy water from the staff fridge. “The kids looked pretty happy. Did you have fun?”

“I did,” I said. “Thank you. But did I…do it right?”

She laughed. “You did. You’ll learn fast; I’m not worried.”

“So I can come back? I can stay?”

She walked with me out into the sunshine. “Muiriel,” she said. “I think you might be just what Salishwood needed. See you Monday, first thing. Seven o’clock.”

“Monday. Seven. Okay.”

I walked back through the trees to the bus stop. Floating.

I have been “useful.” I have been “not a problem.” I have never been what anyone needed.

Sean sped past me on a bike, raised one lean, strong arm, and called, “See you Monday!”

On the bus I caught my reflection in the window. Smiling.

I could not remember a happier day.

—

The bus dropped me back at Francine’s road. Three cats stretched in the sun on the porch, one gray striped and two black, and in the open doorway a dog stood and watched me walk to him.

“Hi,” I said. It did not move. “What’s your deal? You going to bite me?”

Same size as the cats, it was brown and black and kind of mangy. It said nothing until I got to the porch steps and then offered one single bark. Like Hey. Then it turned and went into the house.

I dropped my backpack on the bottom attic step and followed the dog to the kitchen, where Francine stood at the sink, rinsing strawberries. The table was set with tea. Not the drink, but, like, a whole tea: sandwiches and cookies and fruit on little plates like on PBS shows where people live in manor houses.

“Hi,” I said. “Do you have company coming?”

“You. And our neighbor’s three hundred cats…,” she said, an apron over her usual jeans and a sweater, hair up. She looked at her watch. “Right on time again. Hungry? Nice walk?”

My heart sped up a little. Half lie—I had gone for a walk; there was just also the first day of an internship in the middle of it I hadn’t mentioned, so more of an omission than a lie—but close enough. Not even a week here and I was already breaking a cardinal rule. What am I doing?

The teacups and plates looked fancy. Breakable. This was a lot of food.

“It was a really nice walk, thank you,” I said. The sandwiches and cookies looked so good. “I am hungry.”

Her face brightened. “You are?”

“But I should shower.”

“Shower later; you’re hungry now! Here, help me with these.”

I washed my hands and started hulling berries with a knife, a skill I’d picked up a few houses ago. The dog clicked over to Francine’s feet and looked up at her, hoping for crumbs.