Memories began rearranging themselves.
Birthdays.
Airport pickups.
School events.
Family lunches.
All the moments I had thought Lauren was assuming too much.
Maybe she had been.
But maybe someone else had been building the assumption first.
“Why?” Lauren whispered.
I looked toward Mom.
“I have no idea.”
Christmas morning began at 5:46.
Ben woke screaming because he couldn’t find the stuffed dinosaur he had thrown behind the bunk bed.
I knew because my hotel phone rang.
Lauren.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “He’s asking for you.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Put him on.”
“Aunt Jenna!” Ben sobbed.
“Morning, criminal.”
“My dinosaur is dead.”
“Probably not.”
“He’s gone forever.”
“Check behind the bunk bed.”
Silence.
Then a gasp.
“You’re magic.”
“Correct.”
I drove back to the farmhouse at seven.
The snow had thickened overnight.
Everything looked clean.
Untouched.
False.
Inside, Dad was making pancakes.
Mom wasn’t downstairs.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Dad flipped a pancake.
“Shower.”
He looked exhausted.
I poured coffee.
“Dad.”
He kept cooking.
“Why is that upstairs room locked?”
His hand stopped.
Then continued.
“I told you. Papers.”
“What papers?”
“Jenna.”
“Lauren says Mom has been telling her for years that I volunteer for things I never volunteered for.”
He turned off the burner.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said quietly, “Your mother worries.”
“About what?”
He looked toward the staircase.
“Being needed.”
That answer made no sense.
Before I could ask more, footsteps sounded above us.
Mom appeared.
Fully dressed.
Makeup done.
Pearl earrings.
At seven fifteen in the morning.
“Everyone needs to be ready by eight,” she announced.
Lauren looked up from cutting pancakes for Ben.
“Ready for what?”
“The appointment.”
My skin prickled.
