Chapter 22: Mom

Natalie's POV

On the last Sunday before Christmas the lake was frozen at the edges, and snow had come down overnight across the whole yard.

Annie arrived at noon with her mother in the passenger seat of a borrowed car.

I watched them from the kitchen window.

Annie got out and came around to open the door, and then stopped, with one hand on the roof, looking up at the house.

She did not look like a girl who cried on cue.

She looked nervous and plain, and a good deal younger.

"They're here!" Junie shouted from the top of the stairs.

She came down at a run, in the red sweater with the reindeer, her braids bouncing.

"Junie. Walking."

She walked as far as the hall and ran the rest.

I opened the door, and the cold came in, and a smell of woodsmoke.

"Mrs. Bancroft." Annie's voice shook. "Thank you for having us."

"Natalie. Please."

"Natalie."

She said it carefully, like a word she was not sure she was allowed.

Her mother came up the porch steps on her daughter's arm, small and bright-eyed in a good wool coat.

"I brought a pie," she said. "It's apple. I hope that's not a silly thing to bring."

"It's the best thing to bring."

"I made it myself, last Thursday, with Annie at the counter, so she couldn't eat the filling."

"Mom."

"She does. She always has."

Junie stood in front of Annie with her hands behind her back.

I saw it before anyone else.

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