“You okay?” I asked.
“No,” Brittany said. “You?”
“No.”
We got out anyway.
Mom was thrilled to see us. Both girls home on the same Sunday. She hugged us in the doorway. She’d made a roast. She’d made a pie. Cherry, Brittany’s favorite.
Dad was in his recliner with the Twins game on. He got up and hugged us too. He smelled like Old
Spice and the cab of a new truck.
We sat down at the dining room table. The same table. Mom carved the roast. Dad buttered a roll.
Then I took the copy of the 2015 will out of my purse. I unfolded it. I laid it on the table, next to theShop Kitchenware
mashed potatoes, turned so they could both read it.
Brittany laid hers down right next to mine.
Chapter Ten: Between the Roast and the Pie
Mom stopped carving.
She looked at the papers. Then at me. Then at Brittany.
