Greta came down the hallway more slowly. At 13, she remembered nothing clearly about her mother, but she had studied every photograph I kept.
She remembered nothing clearly about her mother.
She stopped beside her sister and folded her arms.
Katherine tried to smile.
Neither girl returned it.
I rolled closer to the door.
"What do you need?"
The question made Katherine glance down at my wheelchair.
"What do you need?"
Ten years earlier, she had looked at it as though it were the lock on a prison cell.
Now she could barely meet my eyes.
"My new husband left," she said. "There were loans in my name. Credit cards. Business debts I didn't know about."
A car passed behind her, throwing pale light across the porch.
"My new husband left."
"I lost the house last month, Aiden."
She rubbed her palms together against the cold.
"I don't have anywhere else to go."
