“I’m positive it was her. I didn’t confide in anyone else. And they came the day after I talked to your mom. You could ask her.”
“Can’t. She has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, wow. I’m so sorry, Callie. I loved your mom as much as my own mother. Sometimes more.”
“I know. Don’t say more, because then we’ll both be crying. What about your mom?”
“Dead. Cancer got her.”
“Sorry,” Callie said softly. “And Kristen? Is she, like... alive? Still using? Living in a crack house?”
Lorna took no offense at the question, but a knot formed in her belly. She glanced at the window. “She’s alive. Living in Florida now, very near my dad. Not using, presumably.” She shifted her gaze back to Callie. “So part of this wellness thing is that I... Well, it’s hard to explain,” she said, and rubbed her forehead. She hardly understood it herself. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Before Callie could answer, Kate returned with the whole crew, all of them chanting, “Cake! Cake! Cake!”
“Can we have cake?” one of the girls asked.
“Before dinner?” Callie asked, pretending to be shocked.
“Yes, before dinner,” Kate said, raising her fist and encouraging the kids to do the same.
Bean gasped and turned to Lorna. “Can I?” Lorna glanced at Callie.
“Are you kidding?” Callie asked. “Of course.”
“Okay,” Lorna said to Bean.
“My field notes are in the car!” Bean sprinted out of thekitchen, slamming the front door on his way to Lorna’s car. Kate and Callie didn’t even seem to notice.
“What does he mean?” Kate asked curiously.
“He’s conducting a completely scientific study in search of the best dessert with the hope of baking it for a badge.”
“Ice cream,” one of the kids said, ignoring the baking part.
“No, cupcakes,” another argued.
A full-blown debate had erupted by the time Bean returned with his Driskill Workflow Solutions notebook.
Later, Callie walked Lorna to her car. Bean was already in the passenger seat, his head bent over his notes. He’d had two pieces of cake. “Cute kid,” Callie said. “A little odd, like you.” She smiled.
Lorna could feel her affection for that odd little kid blossom in her chest.
“And until you figure out what to do with your hair, you probably always will be.” Callie smiled.
Lorna put her hand to her head, felt the unruliness of it. “What are you saying? The high-dollar smoothing cream I bought isn’t working?”
Callie laughed.
Lorna glanced at Callie’s short hair. “Why did you go black? I always loved your brilliant red hair.”
“You were the only one. I got sick of my brothers calling me Pippi Longstocking.”
Lorna surprised herself with a bark of laughter. “They weren’t wrong.”
Callie gasped, then laughed roundly. “It’s good to see you, Lolo.”
“You too, Callie. You have no idea.”
