Chapter 6: Every Year, A Heart

The note had a phone number on the back, under the words "Call any hour, even midnight."

I dialed it from the guest room at nine that night.

It rang once.

"Hello? Is this Sabina?"

The voice was higher than I expected, and out of breath.

"Mrs. VanDorn?"

"Dorothy. Oh, honey, it's Dorothy. I can't believe you called."

She drew a breath. "I'm sorry about the pie. I should have asked if you had allergies."

"I don't have allergies," I said, and my voice broke on the last word.

"Oh, no, don't cry, you'll make me start."

She started.

For a minute neither of us said anything.

I sat on the edge of the bed with a stranger crying softly in my ear.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to meet you for so long."

"Me too. I didn't know."

"I know that now. Quinton called me from the parking lot. He sounded shaken."

"He was very cold to me."

"He gets that from his father. It means he's upset." She blew her nose. "How's your fever? Bryce said you had one."

"Bryce said that?"

"Bryce said a lot of things on Thursday.

"I put him in the car with that girl at seven o'clock. I told him not to come back until he could tell me the truth."

"Good."

"I didn't like her," Dorothy said crisply. "She ate my stuffing and called me Mom VanDorn."

I laughed so hard I had to put my hand over my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

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