“Why aren’t you ever grateful for the chances you’re given?”

“Chances for what? Please explain. I’d love to hear this.”

“Olivia, stop.”

“You started it,” I said with a scowl.

We turned at the second intersection and followed the flatter street until it tapered off to make space for the railroad track that no longer operated. The end of daylight was fading the sky into the magic orange Ms. DeVeau wished her house mimicked.

Aidy stopped our momentum to press her hand into my elbow crease. “Wait. What are we going to say to her?”

I recalled the trace of lip liner on Ms. DeVeau’s skin at the memorial. Her taut face scolding me. “I figured we’d listen and go from there,” I started. “Say whatever she wants us to say, so we can get out as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Aidy said as she bobbed her head. “That could work. Yeah.”

“It always works.”

We proceeded up the two concrete steps. Aidy knocked. I looked around. Nothing of note in the small front yard, save for the beautiful garden that shouldn’t exist. Footsteps pattered close then stopped. Ten seconds passed between the halted movement and the door opening. Ms. DeVeau revealed herself to us, wrapped up like a present in a satin robe that didn’t seem like it would do much good after a shower. Her face was bare and scrubbed pink. “Come in, girls,” she said.

Her house smelled like expensive floral candles. They burned on otherwise-empty tables scattered throughout. The layout went straight back, and she led us through the front room, dining room, and kitchen. Each area felt staged, all done up in rustic whites, ready for a catalog shoot. Not a single personal touch was in sight, save for a black and white 8x10 of Marley as a toddler, birthday cake frosting streaking her plump cheeks. We reached an enclosed porch on the back of her house where Ms. DeVeau had iced tea waiting for us, along with sliced cucumbers and peppers.

“Sit down,” she said.

Aidy and I joined up shoulder to shoulder on one of the love seats.

“Your mother called this morning to say you’d be stopping by. I almost put this all away, and well, here you are.” Ms. DeVeau evaluated Aidy and me with no discretion, starting at our feet and dragging her eyes up. “As you both get older, you’d really never know the two of you were related.” She looked from Aidy to me until we met in a deadlock stare. “Except maybe in the nose?”

If it was chess she wanted to play, I was no pawn. “Maybe.”

Aidy grabbed a cucumber and began nibbling its edges. With a sly shimmy she masked as a full-body cough, she moved into me. Don’t you dare abandon the plan, her arm said to my side.